Hold Me

foggy-lonely-path

 

murky

life in the shadows

half dead

half alive

never quite present

hold me

please hold me

let me feel your life

emotions

scrambled

all but the pain

it is always real

hold me

please hold me

let me feel your life

your love

 

Writers Note: This was written while sitting in the cafe at Barnes & Noble with tears streaming down my face.  I had only left the house a half hour before having had a anxiety attack while sitting at the kitchen table on the Mac. Out of nowhere I was weeping and sobbing and filled with dread and fear. In an instant I was straddling time and space, half of me that hypersensitive, lost kid begging for my father’s love in June of 1968,  just days before he died. The other half of me firmly in the present dreading a therapists appointment the following day. Dreading the real work that is to begin, afraid of the answers that may be found, the vast swaths of time that I have no memory of. Most of my childhood it seems  Sometimes I don’t feel as if life is real, like it’s a big lie, a bad joke, like I’m not quite present. More to come I’m sure………

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16 thoughts on “Hold Me

  1. Ah hun…..I really feel your pain and anguish here 😢 I’m really sorry you feel so bad. 😖 You’re doing what you have to do though. There’s no way over it no way under it no way around it YOU GOTTA JUST GO THROUGH IT X 😘

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  2. Lorra, thank you for the prayers, I just had the most awesome experience. I have been struggling with a lot of different issues of late, some times I feel like a juggler. One has to do with being vulnerable with my wife and really opening up to her about the addiction, everything really, and the other has to do with rejection. Both are scary and can feed the addiction cycle. I took a chance and as my wife was getting up I asked her to crawl into bed with me and just hold me, she did and gave me an unsolicited wonderful, light, teasing back rub with those amazing acrylic nails, I crave human touch, her touch, but for years I have been so fearful and hypersensitive to rejection. And of course with the type of addiction I struggle with she felt rejected as well and would dish it right back. Our own perfect storm. We ended up have the most wonderful time, cuddling, laughing and talking and I feel so much better now. God is so good!

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  3. “. In an instant I was straddling time and space, half of me that hypersensitive, lost kid begging for my father’s love in June of 1968, just days before he died. ”
    Beautiful.

    Like

  4. I could have written your writers note myself…inserting my own circumstances. Those feelings you described are me. I hope you find the answers you seek, crave, and need. I am still searching.

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