The Unwritten Lessons of Connection

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The Unwritten Lessons of Connection

I lost the ones I thought would be
An immutable part of my life’s tapestry,
Woven forever. Their sudden fraying left
A hollow space, of laughter now bereft.
A loss not just of presence, but of promised time,
Of futures guaranteed, of permanence sublime.

I lost the endless, open channel’s flow,
The casual intimate, the profound talk’s low.
The message history remains, a silent tomb,
But the living dialogue has met its doom.
I lost the shared language, the inside joke’s release,
The easy flow of thought that came with sustained peace.

I lost. And yet, a nagging question stays:
How to reclaim it all through monumental days?
More honest now, a deeper query rings:
Do I want the fragments back, the broken things,
Or is this void an opportunity instead,
For a different, stronger rebuilding from the dead?

I am Socially Impaired, a deep deficiency,
No compass for connection’s subtle geography.
I cannot decode the rules that ever shift,
To make a friend, or keep one from the drift.
No knowledge of the delicate dance to start,
Nor sustained effort to hold a drifting heart.

The world outside, a dizzying, digital torrent,
Of career demands, and social lives hyper-currant.
My mind, a labyrinth of static and confusion,
Makes reaching out a Herculean illusion.
The busy world’s quick rhythm, my slow, internal pace,
Exacerbate the disconnect in this human space.

I am Socially Impaired, an alien I feel,
A non-native in a world that seems unreal.
Effortless for others, each social interaction
Requires exhausting, conscious translation.
Lost in this world of confusion, inescapable, vast,
The mechanics of connection hold me fast.

What proper alchemy transforms the passing name,
An acquaintance pleasant, into a trusted flame?
What ritual’s required to solidify the friend,
To confidant and pillar, on whom one can depend?
How to tend this garden so it thrives, not withers thin?
The vital lessons of these bonds were never written in.

In this struggle, I lost my authentic self’s deep call,
My unique longings muffled by the noise of it all.
Lost beneath the effort to be what others sought,
My own desires indistinct, in the battles fought.

I lost the subtle nuances, the unspoken art,
The reading of the body, the comforting hand’s part.
The effortless mirroring of mood, the perfect timing’s grace,
The tools that equip others to master social space.
Without them, I operated blind in the dense fog,
Lost in isolation’s self-doubt, like a log.

But then a tectonic shift occurred within the night,
The fog dispersed, pierced by an internal light.
The finding was no external, sudden grace,
But a revelation born from that empty space.

I Found a core of unshakeable strength inside,
No longer contingent on where others reside.
A self-sustaining power, a bedrock I possess,
To hold and to rely upon in times of stress.

I Found new forms of connection, soul-deep and true,
With people who truly see me, and see me anew.
Bonds built on mutual resilience, not proximity’s plea,
These are the conversations that will not end for me.

I Found a powerful, relentless love, not on condition,
A self-acceptance, a profound self-compassion.
No longer scanning horizons for where worth has fled,
I carry the source within, in the words I have said.
It is a love that will not quit, a permanent estate,
A fortress built from inside, sealed by my own gate.

https://books2read.com/u/m25Ygd

The Unspoken Question of Worth

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The Unspoken Question of Worth

Am I a difficult person to be friends with?
The question echoes in the lonely silence,
A heavy query, weighted by repeated pain.
I dissect each word, each passing glance,
Seeking the flaw so visible to others’ eyes,
Yet stubbornly opaque, a shadow on my own stain.

Am I too awkward, my presence a strain?
Does nervousness stilt the practiced conversation?
I rehearse the words, the balance I must find,
To hold the moment, a calculated equation.
But the words tumble out, a chaotic, hurried rush,
Leaving the perfect moment behind.

Am I too anxious, a constant, worrying hum?
A fear of saying too much, of taking up space,
Of simply being a burden, too large, too loud.
This anxiety, palpable, a barrier I can’t erase,
A repellent field that pushes people away,
Before a true connection is allowed.

Do I forget to hold my tongue’s sharp edge?
I value honesty, perhaps too stark and free.
I speak without the varnish of social grace,
And the truth, though gently offered, can still be
Mistaken for bluntness, a candor that drives them out.
What is it? A flaw I cannot place.

I don’t have many friends; the truth is stark.
My circle’s small, fragile, and often transient.
I don’t know what’s wrong, the fundamental divide.
While others form bonds, lasting and resilient,
Mine disintegrate like paper submerged in water,
With nowhere left to run, nowhere to hide.

I am a friend until a better one appears.
I serve a purpose, a stand-in for the interim,
A convenient stop until a brighter option’s found.
I am never good enough, always on the rim;
The comparison is the moment of my replacement.
I am the waiting room, not the desired ground.

I hold on too long, clinging to the frayed thread,
Stretching the inevitable goodbye, a profound fear.
My loyalty, my constancy, becomes a weight,
A burden they let go, holding nothing dear.
Sometimes I must be the one to let go first,
A painful, self-preserving, final tear.

It is lonely at times, profoundly I miss
The shared laughter, the feeling of belonging, deep inside.
But is it real, or the memory idealized?
A performance they gave, while they stood by my side,
Waiting for the true cast, the better friends to arrive.
In the lie of the past, there’s no place left to confide.

I will be there for those who need me to be.
My nature unchanged, I offer care freely,
A reliable constant, though never the primary light.
If you want me to go, tell me honestly.
Spare me the slow fade, the ghosting, the agonizing fight.
But if you call again, I’ll return without demanding right.

Cherish the friends who remain by your side.
Focus on the true constants, the precious, small few.
If some want to leave, let them walk away;
Their departure speaks of their needs, not a judgment on you.
Accept the impermanence, hold the good memories fast,
And keep the door open for the few who are true.

https://books2read.com/u/m25Ygd

Friends and My Mental Health

Photo by FUTURE KIIID on Pexels.com (I chose this photo because it is peaceful.)

I’ve been working on my mental health, and I wanted to reach out to you all to explain a few things.

Last week, I posted a photo with the caption, “I’m sorry I don’t talk to you anymore. My anxiety told me that you hated me.” This was a reflection of how my anxiety can sometimes make me feel like everyone hates me, even when there’s no evidence to support that.

 I just wanted to start by saying that I have ADHD, which means that I have a hard time focusing on one thing at a time. This can sometimes lead me to start working on something and then move on to something else without finishing the first thing. I also sometimes have to say something in the moment, and I apologize if I cut you off or move on from what you’re talking about to what I want to talk about.

I know that this can be frustrating, and I’m working on it. I’m trying to be more mindful of my attention and to listen more carefully to what other people are saying. Even if I have to get out what I’m thinking, I’m trying to remember to come back to what you were talking about.  

 I also found out that I have bipolar disorder. For me, this means that I experience periods of mania and depression. During my manic episodes, I feel energetic, productive, and happy. I may write 5,000 words in a day, clean the house, and cook elaborate meals. I might even bake. 

Depression is the opposite of mania. During my depressive episodes, I feel sad, tired, and hopeless. I may have trouble sleeping or concentrating. I may also lose interest in activities I used to enjoy.

 During my depressive episodes, I don’t get as down as some people do, but I still get down. Most of the time, this means that I don’t want to do anything. I force myself to get out of bed and work, but I don’t have the energy or motivation to do anything else. The things that need to get done get done, but the extras don’t. By extras, I mean talking to friends, writing, or cleaning the house the way it should be cleaned.

 I have never felt like I was good enough. This has caused me to have problems in the past, especially with friendships. I have always said that I would never give up on a friend, but this has backfired on me. I think I used to talk to my friends too much, which came across as clingy. I just wanted to show them that I didn’t forget about them and that they were important to me.

Since then, I have stepped back and tried to be more mindful of my interactions with others. I know that not everyone is going to like me, and that’s okay. But it’s still hard for me to accept that. Because of this, I have been hesitant to reach out to people in my life, role-play, or chat with people I enjoy talking to. It takes me a while to feel comfortable and to be able to make new friends, and this has made it even more difficult for me.

The writing community can be especially difficult, as it’s very competitive. It can be hard to tell if someone is giving you genuine advice or if they’re just trying to sell you something. This has made me even more hesitant to reach out to people in the writing community.

I’m working on this, though. I’m trying to be more confident and to believe in myself. I know that I have a lot to offer, and I’m starting to realize that not everyone is going to see that. But that’s okay. I’m still worthy of love and friendship, even if not everyone sees it.

I know that I sometimes take things personally, and I’m working on that. I know this is a problem for me, and I want to be better at it.

If you’re my friend and you want to talk more or become better friends, please let me know. I know that my mind can sometimes make me think that no one wants to be my friend, but that’s not true. I want to be friends with you, and I want to make sure that we’re both happy in our friendship.

If I talk to you too much, just let me know. You can say something like, “Hey, I love talking to you, but I’m super busy right now.” I’ll understand, and I’ll back off.

Either way, we need to be honest with each other. If I do something that offends or bothers you, please tell me. I’ll do my best not to take it personally, and I’ll work on changing my behavior.

And if I don’t talk to you all that much, just let me know that you want to talk to me. I’ll make an effort to reach out more often.

I think a lot of people have this fear of being rejected or abandoned, and I’m no exception. But I’m working on it, and I’m getting better.

I’m also in therapy, and I’m talking to my therapist about this. She’s helping me to understand why I take things so personally, and she’s giving me tools to help me cope with my anxiety.

I wanted to be open about this because I think it’s important to talk about our mental health. We all have our own struggles, and it’s okay to ask for help.

If you’re struggling with anything, please don’t be afraid to reach out. There are people who care about you and want to help.

Saying the Wrong Thing

I always say the wrong thing.
The words come out of my mouth, 
And I watch them go.
Wave goodbye 
And wait for the reaction.
 
The words spiral out of me,
I can’t catch them, 
But just close my eyes and wait
For the reaction.

I say the wrong thing, do the wrong thing
And then stress over it.
I back pedal but it doesn’t work
I wonder why I say anything at all.

Walk Alone

Photo by Amol Tyagi on Unsplash
I walk the streets alone.
You don’t see me.
You never do.

My name you never call.
I walk in darkness.
You never see me.
Did you ever see me?

Always

Photo by Steve Johnson on Unsplash
 Always asking if I did it right
Always worried about how others see me.
Always correcting to make everyone happy.

Do you like what I did there?
Do I need to change it?
Do you like how I wrote that?

The rejection,
The anticipation, 
The need to be the best. 

When will I be enough?
When will I be good enough?
When will criticism not get to me?

New Book Annoucement

What an exciting month for Nancy Ann. She has a new book of prose, poetry and short stories just published called Ramblings of a Chaotic Mind. Nancy Ann’s Publisher here, Pandora’s Order Publications LLC. We are so happy to have Nancy Ann on board as one of our newest writers. This is the first book she is publishing with us and we could not be more ecstatic.

Ramblings of a Chaotic Mind explores everything from birth to loss, love to friendship, stories and so much more. It is a book that will give you hours of enjoyment and is here just in time for the end of National Poetry Month. Pick up your copy today at https://www.amazon.com/dp/B09YM6SYFH  You won’t be sorry.

The emotions poured into this book will jump off the pages right into your heart. Pick up your copy today. You won’t regret it.

Aingealicia McKitrick

Pandora’s Order LLC

pandorasorder.com

Ramblings of a Chaotic Mind

This is a collection of poems, thoughts, short stories, and art. I hope you enjoy them.

Many of my poems might be dark and depressing, but writing is how I cope with things life throws at us. When I’m frustrated, hurt, and sad, I write. It helps me cope with my feelings though not every poem will fit this description most of them will.

I write on a slew of subjects; motherhood, family, miscarriage, children, raising children and many more. Sometimes moms get into a competition of who’s the better mother or who has the best kids, whose job is hard, and that mindset helps no one. I promise to be as real as I can, hoping the things that have challenged me can help someone else.

#poetrylovers #poetryporn #poem #poems #poemsporn #poemsdaily #poetryisnotdead #poetryislife #writing #writer #writingcommunity #writerslife #writers #writingprompts #writinginspiration #writingtips #write #writersconnection #jealousy #rage #life  #friends #poet #mentalhealth #anxiety #writersroutine #depression

I Don’t Give a Fuck!!!

cheerful young woman screaming into megaphone
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We worry so much about what others think.
We watch things happen and never speak.
We never speak our mind. 
 
When we do speak, people become upset.
As if we have no right to speak our mind.
We have no right to stand up for someone,
As if our views do not matter. 
 
I'm tired of keeping quiet and worrying.
What if I say the wrong thing?
What if someone gets mad at me?
 
I have always been worried about what people think of me.
Would people hate me? Would they stop being my friend?
 
Today I say, I don't give a fuck.
If you don't like what I say, stop talking to me.
If what I say, offends you so badly that you need to end a friendship,
Then you were never my friend. 
 
I don't give a fuck.
I will speak my mind.