Crazy Me

I am crazy.

I have not changed in all my years.

I get obsessed, I over do, I run into the ground.

I cycle my emotions and scare even the hardiest.  Only nut jobs want me.  Only people who don’t actually care about me, or themselves, or anyone. 

I was raised to chase love with a desperation that kills it on the vine.

I was raised to be told I mattered, and treated like going out of the way for me was too great a burden. 

I expect no one to help me, no one to reach out to me, no one to offer me support or guidance or acceptance or caring or love.

I expect them to be selfish, and self absorbed, and self hating, and miserable, and use me for their own ends.

How then, can I ever find the kind of love I was born to? 

I was born loving, giving, caring, glowing with acceptance of others.  I was born to heal.  But I was so broken I don’t know how to find that healing place, how to protect myself enough to give what I want to give, to hold myself sacred enough to keep me from harm.

My need is too intense.  My desires too scattered.  My self too rarified. 

I desire to manifest that which I desire.

Love, of my heart, and my gifts, and my fears.   Acceptance, of my nature and my spirit and my damage.  Patience, to absorb my love in all its fury, to wait until I cycle back again, to hold me and be held.

I am emotion.  I am love and fear.  I am giving and needing.  I am dancing and at rest.  I am peaceful and tumultuous.  I am strong and vulnerable.  I am changeable and forever this unchanged.  I am growing and yet same as I was born.

I can wish.  I can attempt.  I can expand.  I can take in.  I can meditate. 

Yet, I am who I am.


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