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The angel who rests in the arms of the tree
Frozen in place by the chill of the night
the snow angel rests in the arms of the tree.
Gazing at her I wondered
Is she cold like me?
Are her insides in knots?
Does she worry if the sun will release her so she can fly away free?
Then I noticed that she was relaxed
trusting in the strength of the tree.
She lay there, face open, aimed at the sky
soaking in the beams of the sun.
I internalized how mindfully this angel rests
knowing she is protected
by the deer, the fox, and the tiger
protective and kind
gentle yet fierce.
In an awakened instant
I understood
that although she is frozen by the chill of the night
this is her time to rest.
I knew that just like the intense springtime sun
relief is actively occurring
melting my gridlocked existence of powerlessness away.
I hear in…
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Discrimination Against People with Disabilities
This is a long post, but I feel it is an important one. I recently had an experience with a Town official showing blatant discrimination against people with disabilities. I am the Resident Commissioner on the board of commissioners for my town’s local housing authority, which oversees five elderly/disabled housing complexes. The housing authority was… Continue reading Discrimination Against People with Disabilities
Her Present Needed Her Past
The door heaved open
exposing the dark, dusty gloom of the past.
Walking into each room
the light began to pour in
from all the love she feels in the present.
The past and the present began to live together.
Sometimes contentious, but with a newly learned respect.
Intuitively, she knew her present needed her past
so she could learn, change and grow.
As a new season begins
she holds hands with her past, lives in the present, and rests.
©Alexis Rose, photographer: Janet Rosauer
Thank you for reading my books: If I Could Tell You How It Feels, and Untangled, A Story of Resilience, Courage, and Triumph
PTSD-THE LIGHTENING STRIKES
Setting boundaries is an important part of the healing process.
Little did I understand my ‘illness.’ Calling it that is a first for me. All these years I loaded blame onto my shoulders and into my being for not keeping up, for intense reactions, even screaming if someone came up from behind or around a corner. Usually that was my kids, and most times not purposely because they learned early on that’s not funny with Mom because it caused a very serious scare.
But there is so much more, and it hasn’t been given gentleness or compassion, only self-hatred for being so different, for not being able to do what others do so easily, for being so tired, scared, and forever mistrusting. Even when someone truly cared, in my mind it is, ‘What are you up to? What do you want?’
It is not a life anyone else would want. In the night it strikes. I hadn’t thought of my…
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Five Weeks of Funk
Hi, everyone. It’s been more than a week since I’ve written a post. I am enveloped by a physical and mental depression I just can’t seem to shake. This is the first time I’ve gotten online in five days. I just don’t have the energy. I am overwhelmed by the slightest thought of having to… Continue reading Five Weeks of Funk
Would You Be Me?
This deeply resonates with me.
Exhaustion runs deep, into my core, my blood, bones, every atom of my being. I am tired. Even with enough sleep, I am tired. Winter’s weariness? Failures of self?
“It hard being me,” I lament to a friend, and whisper out-loud to the gods. It is hard being me, and I’m tired of it.
My thoughts tend to believe the worst every time, and that tendency consumes me in winter. Bleakness of soul matches the frigid temps. The havoc of this engulfs me in ways that wreck relationships. Others there willing to love, offering warmth and real caring, are shoved away brusquely. My best feature is turning away from you coldly.
Is that all there is left from childhood? Taking my trust, only coldness remains. I need you to keep away from me. Aloof, yet needy. It is so tiring being me. Dreaming of being someone else consumes me once…
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