An Angel's Tears (June 13, 2015)

Often wonder.

How

Is it possible

For parents

To be clueless

About their own children.

Never realizing

Their child is

Different

From others.

As if

They had raised

A changeling

Instead.

And not

A child

Who is transgender

Gay lesbian

Or bisexual.

Denying

The reality

They have lived

For several years.

As their delusions

Are proven

An illusion.

In hearing

A single sentence

Being spoken

By a nervous

And anxious child:

"Mom

Dad

I'm ....."

Dropping

A heavy veil

Between parent

And child.

Which

Nothing can lift

As the tears flow

Upon a page.

Saying

A final good-bye.

Therisa © 2015

Author's note:June is, the anniversary month, which the LGBT community marches, in memorial, of the Stonewall Riots (1969), in New York City. The first Pride March occurred, in 1970, in the American cities of New York, Chicago, San Francisco and Los Angeles. Similarly, Toronto's Pride March was generated, by 1981 police bathhouse raids, which has grown, into one of the world's largest celebration of LGBT+ community. 

For the record, my mom rejected me, when I outed myself, to her, on July 1, 2006. In the following days, I slipped, into a dark and suicidal depression, which almost claimed me, except for the help of a dear friend, from Texas.

The Dreaded Talk (December 22, 2018)

Stand before you

Trying to read

Your body language

And failing.

Having shared

My deepest truth

Who I am.

Many would label me

Mentally ill.

Doing nothing

Is killing me

Each passing day.

It's not a fad

Or sexual fetish

Just whom I am.

With or without

Your approval

And support

I must go forward.

Living my life

As meant to

Regardless

Of our relationship.

Knowing

You'll blame yourself

In my need for change

Please understand

Nothing you have done

Or didn't do

Has cause this.

I'll always love you

No matter

Your answer.

Therisa © 2018

Author’s note: Whether we label ourselves; as gay, lesbian, bisexual or transgendered.

The hardest thing is coming out of the closet to our love ones and friends. I say this, from

very personal experience of outing myself to my mom, on July 1, 2006 (Canada Day). I

wasn’t prepared for her sudden arrival at my apartment, having promising me that she

would leave alone on for the holiday long weekend. I tried to explain, her eldest “son”

was her “daughter” that nature had denied her, so cruelly with a stillborn birth, before me.

Being depressed, in my default emotional state. In the past decade, I have been depressed,

even though, I have taken several different types of antidepressant. At one time, it was a

cocktail of 4 different drugs. Sadly, my body reacted strongly against most of these

medications.

Her outright rejection, fueled by ignorance and fear, tipped me, into a month long suicidal

depression that almost ended my life, on July 3rd and 4th, as I reached out to a friend. Who

spent several hours over the phone, talking. Walking me back, from the ledge that I was

going to end my life, with a sharp object, in the bathtub.

August Heartbreak (August 6, 2018)

Silent tears stream

Down my face

Past injustices and traumas

Haunting.

Virtual loop

Reinforce each memory

Played.

Feeling small

And helpless.

Releasing one triggers

After another.

Brain shutdown

Retreating inwards

Welcoming unconsciousness.

Awaken

Leaden body

If ran ultra marathon.

Arms trembling

Summertime leaves

In strong wind.

Tightly grip pillow

Anchoring

“Here and now”.

Emotional maelstrom

Crossing spectrum

From rage to sadness.

Want sleep

Everything drained

Existence

Bare minimum.

Life-on hold

Two more days

Full reboot.

Why now

Don't know.

Therisa © 2018

Author’s note: The Civil Holiday long weekend (first Monday in August), is over and I found myself, struggling with flashbacks, depression and anxiety. This is my way of dealing with it.

A Small Act Of Defiance (August 16, 2017)

I have travelled

The darkest path

Of one's soul.

Where hope is

A distance shore

Out of reach

To the outstretch hand.

Waking up

And getting dress

Are major achievements

On a daily basis.

Acts

Most people take

For granted.

But

Not for me.

As I sit

Before a library computer

Typing this out.

Struggling against

My fight/flight instinct

To runaway

From here.

To the safety

Of my apartment

With Venus Squeak

And Star.

By surrendering

To that act

Am giving

My anxiety and depression

Another victory

Over my soul.

Forever 

Keeping me

A hostage

To the mental illnesses

I live with

On a daily basis.

So I ask you

Not to make this

A mountain

Out of a mole hole.

Rather

Sit by me

And say

"Good job Therisa".

Nothing more.

Therisa © 2017

Author's note: Since last November (2016), I have been struggling with my chronic depression, which has refused to leave me, in March. Turning my fall/winter bout of depression, into a 9 month ordeal for me. Over the past weekend, I have started another prose project, which for me, is a huge step forward. Not sure where it will take me, but anywhere is better that staring at a blank screen, like a zombie.

Cost Of A Day Out (August 26, 2016)

Price

I must pay

For a day

On the town.

Surrounded

By crowds 

Of people.

Enjoying

A hot and humid

Summer's day

In the city.

Taking in

One final dash

Of Summer

Before Fall's arrival.

As the subway 

Is packed

With young families

For a fun day

At the "X"

(Canadian National Exhibition).

Later

The afternoon rush hour

Is mixed

With commuters

Heading home.

And baseball fans

Convening on

The Roger's Center.

Hoping for

A Blue Jay victory

Over the visiting Angels.

Only 

To lost

6-3.

As my soul

Is slowly drained

Leaving me

Exhausted.

Wanting

To curl up 

And hide away

From society

For the next 2 days.

Until 

My body's batteries

Are recharged.

The toll extracted

Whenever

I'm surrounded

By crowds.

Upon 

My introverted 

Anxious soul.

Therisa © 2016

Author's note: Yesterday, I had an appointment with my therapy, during the afternoon, and thought, I would visit a close friend, on the way, back home. Never expecting the visit would last later than 11 pm, when I got home, to my apartment, after seeing the film, Suicide Squad. Originally, I thought, the visit would last, until the downtown rush, would be over, for the Jays/Angels game, at the Roger Center. As the film,I felt the various film characters were underwritten or the actors portrayed them, in the way, they are written, in the comic book, which the film is based upon. 

Why I Hate Applesauce (March 18, 2016)

Once more

I find myself

Back

In the village

Of Erin, Ontario.

As if

The sands of Time

Had shifted backwards

Thirty-eight years.

To that fateful day

In 1978

When I learnt

A harsh lesson

In anxiety.

For I had shattered

My latest bully's

Front upper teeth

At the gum line.

A sobbing wretch

I arrived home.

With my broken

Thor lunchbox

And soiled winter jacket

Covered

In applesauce.

Can still hear

Those little angels

That surrounded us

Demonically

Calling for blood.

In the kitchen

Did the fight

Unfold

To my mom.

Between sobs

And blowing

My running nose.

Over

The next month

Or so.

We waited

For the dreaded knock

From the OPP

At the front door.

Charging me

With assault

Causing bodily harm.

Nothing happened

Except

Robbie (the bully)

And his family

Moved to Calgary.

(As reported

By the grapevine).

Never saw him

Again

That I know of

Beyond

The flashbacks.

Therisa © 2016

A Side Trip Through Hell (March 6, 2016)

www.thewomenofchange.com

It's been 9 years

Since

I have quit

My last job

In utter frustration.

As

I found myself

Working in

An increasingly

Hostile environment.

With little

To no support

From management.

Know

I could have taken them

To the Labour Board

Or the Human Rights Commission

Over their actions.

But

Fuck'em

I needed out

Of there.

For the sake

Of my health

(Mentally

And physically).

Working

A minimum week

Of 50+ hours

Over 5 days.

On top of

A daily commute

Of a 3 hour

Round trip.

Never mind

My asking

To work

An 8 hour shift

Every fortnightl.

To attend

A support group

In Toronto.

Was like

Trying to remove teeth

From someone

Who has none.

As I tried

To transition

In this working Hell.

Looking back

Am better off

With less money

And stress.

As I take it

Slow

But constant steps

In my holistic healing.

Therisa © 2016

Author's note: At the time, I was working for a small company located near, Pearson International Airport, in Mississauga, Ontario. When, I did quit, I tossed all of the inbound receipts, into the air, like Mary Tyler Moore did, with her hat, at the beginning, of her 1970s show. Not caring, where they landed.

Coming Out (March 8, 2016)

www.gettyimages.com

Letters swallow

Themselves

In seconds.   

As I attempt

To compose myself

Before sharing

My innermost thoughts

With you.

Scared

Beyond words

How you'll respond

To this unspoken truth.

Of finding out

You eldest son is

Really

Your eldest daughter.

Whether

You'll greet me

With an open heart

And a gentle hug.

Or

Turn away

With a closed heart

And a frigid frown

Upon your face.

Mentally

Flipping a coin.

As I open

My apartment door

To greet you

Mom.

Therisa © 2016

Author's note: For many, in the LGBT+ community coming out, to a family member, is the hardest thing, we can do. Knowing, a rejection by them, can cause us, to react negative, and for some, this can mean, a suicide attempt. 

 Using, one line of the poem by Naomi Shihab Nye, Burning the Old Year , and write a new poem from it. The italicized lines are Naomi's.

Standing Before, The Portal Of Past, Present And Future (February 13, 2016)

www.quotehd.com

Before me

Stands

An open window

To my past

And future.

One

I had walked away

Fourteen years ago

On my own.

In hating

Whom I was.

But

Unable to voice

This inner truth

With anyone.

Family

Or friends.

Wanting

To rebuild

These bridges.

I have left

To rot

Over time.

Scared

By doing so

Will expose myself

To rejection

And hate.

For few know

The journey

I have taken

Since.

Do I take

This risk

And climb

Through this window?

Or

Slam it shut

Destroying all ties

To my extended family

And the past.

A question

I wrestle with

As both sides argue

Within my mind.

Against

The rising tide

Of anxiety.

Indecision

Wracks my brain

And soul.

While

Choking back

A nervous sigh

As I write this.

Therisa © 2016

Author's note: Earlier, this afternoon, I searched the name of one of my 26 paternal cousins, who I haven't seen, since June 2002, at a family reunion, marking the family's 50th year, of immigrating to Canada, from The Nederland. Of all of my cousins, he is, the one that I feel, the most comfortable around. growing up, being close, in age.  I know, he's support of LGBT+ rights, which makes my decision, a tad bit easier, but I'm not sure, if I am ready, to share myself, with him.

A Soul's Wish (February 4, 2016)

www.yogawithtali.wordpress.com

Silence.

Only

A soul can hear

And understand.

Is what

I seek.

In muzzling

My inner critic

Permanently.

Reclaiming

What's every child's

Birthright:

Self-confidence

And self-esteem.

By undoing

A lifetime

Of destructive comments

And brutal body blows

To the soul.

At times

My psychic pain

Is too much.

As I shrink

Ever smaller

Into a space

Of lost hope.

As the words

Logic and sanity

Are only found

In a dictionary.

Depression

And extreme anxiety

Sink their talons 

Deep

Into my soul.

Simple act

Of opening and exiting

My apartment door

Takes on

Heroic measures.

As I cower

In my bedroom.

Shedding tears

Of frustration

And shame.

Knowing

Only last week

I could do so

With the greatest

Of ease.

Wondering

How long

My jail sentence

Will be

This time.

Before

The cycle changes

In granting me

Parole.

Until

The next time

I'm held hostage

Within my apartment.


Therisa © 2016

Author's note: My last bout of agoraphobia, occurred, during the summer of 2014, lasting 3 months, before I was able to leave my apartment, without any assistance. Marking my second cycle of agoraphobia, within the past 6 years.

The Waiting Game (February 2, 2016)

www.healthdefine.com

An anxious sigh

Escapes my lips

As I chew on

One of my fingernails

On my right hand.

Know

It's a bad habit

That I should stop.

But

I don't care.

As I face

Another three days

Before I face

My doctor

And the latest A1C result.

Will admit

Am scared witless.

In facing

The strong possibility

Of having to start

Injecting myself

With Insulin.

Not sure

How I should read

My nurse practitioner's

Response.

When

She says

The results are better

Than last time.

Given

Prior to that test

I had been off

All of my meds

For about 4 months.

And yeah

The results were

Disastrous.

That's putting it

Mildly.

Any result

Would be better.

Given

I'm back

On my meds

(HRT and diabetic).

But

Is it enough

To avoid

The need for injections?

That's

The million dollar question.

One way

Or another

Will be answered

At my Friday morning

Appointment.

Can only hope

It's good news

Until my next A1C test

In late April.


Therisa © 2016




Author's note: By nature, I'm not the most patience of people, as you can tell, with this poem. I just want the results back, so I can move forward with my life, regardless, if I need to start using Insulin. And yes, this waiting is killing me.

No Thanks, I'm Vegetarian (January 10, 2016)

www.fitstylelife.com

Don't understand

Why people are

So surprised

At my rejection

Of their holiday meal.

Knowing

There is little

To none

I will eat

Of the meal.

Due to

Personal

And medical reasons.

Smell of cooking meat

Is enough

To make me

Nauseous.

Although

Must admit

To indulging

In the odd craving

Of fish and chips.

So sue me.

Sadly

Am Type II diabetic

(Thanks mom

For this genetic inheritance).

Forcing me

To be

Very selective

On my dinner plate.

As

Traditional veggies served

At high holiday feasts

Contain high sugars

And starches.

A fact

I don't need reminding

As I try keep myself

From needing

To injection Insulin shots.

Never mind

My anxiety levels

Max out

In crowded

And noisy situations.

Triggering

My need for quiet space.

Else

Am facing

A nasty panic attack.

I thank you.

But

In all fairness

Have to say

"No"

To your generous offer.


Therisa © 2016

Author's note: Not sure, what triggered this mental discussion, which resulted, in the poem, before you. But I had to get these thoughts out, before they drove me, nuts. Every high holiday feast, like Thanksgiving, Christmas, and Easter, my building has a get-together, for the tenants, put on, by the staff, here, which I have politely declined.


For Christmas, last year, a food bank that I visit, when times are tight, was giving away tickets, for a free Christmas dinner, which I declined, disappointing another tenant, from my building, who wanted me, to accompany her, to it.


Sigh.


I can't win, for losing.

Therisa Scriptor Pax (January 9, 2016)

www.cares2.com

Silence

The sound

I welcome.

And yet

Dread.

In wondering

If this lull is

Another trap

To ensnare me

In harm's way.

Or

The first moments

Of a lasting truce.

Unknown

To me

Until now.

Being able

To trek

Across my soulscape

Without stepping on

A landmine.

Or

Having a sniper

Taking verbal shots

With deadly accuracy

To my soul.

Degrading me.

As if

I have

No absolute value.

Laying to rest

These painful

And toxic memories

Of abuse

Into their graves.

Able

To sleep

A full night rest.

Without being awakened

By the slightest touch

Or sound.

More importantly

No more flashbacks

Or night terrors.


Therisa © 2016