Life in the Slow lane

Here I am, another year down. In one week, I will be 27 years old, an age I and many others didn’t think I would live to see. Yet, I head into this next week with anxiety, disappointment, hopelessness and regrets. At a younger age in which I was naive to know about the curve balls that the world will throw at a person I am considering that perhaps I have not given myself enough credit for each ball that I did not catch, but also that did not knock me out of the game. Yes, I have struck out plenty of times, sometimes I got walked, but here I am making a home run to 27. There are many in this world who were not blessed to see this age for whatever the reason, but the fact that I have continued to make the choice to stay in the game and better my life skills is something I guess I should be proud of.

Now is the part where I name off some of the struggles and pain that I suffered this year, but not with complaint because each heartache taught me something including the understanding that pain is okay and talking about it is important. This year I lost a best friend to cocaine. I was sexually assaulted by someone I trusted and had known for years. I relapsed for the umpteenth time in my eating disorder and because of it I became financially unstable and relying on those around me to help out. As we say in the hood losing a friend had me butt hurt. I didn’t handle it well, but it has prepared me for what loss and grief feel like. I have learned to cherish each moment as the next is never promised. I know that is such a cliché, but until you lose something you never expected you would, that cliché is nothing but a quote. I now say I love you every time I walk away, I make the most out of each encounter, I love big and I forgive quickly. Important, I shall reiterate I forgive quickly. Holding grudges is what made the loss of my best friend hurt the most. I now know I can be hurt and yet still forgive. People come and go and I have no control over that, but what I do have control over is how I interact with them when they are in my presence. Life is precious, it’s short, its hard as fuck, but when you do the work those small things we take for granted become an oxymoron in the sense they are appreciated like giant shrimp. I have clean underwear today (seems small right?) but I’m hella happy about it. *Emoji smiley face with wavy hands. Now one could truly argue that nothing good comes out of being assaulted, but I shall challenge that. Mind you I am still struggling with the aftermath of that event, but I have become more assertive and learned how to better protect myself. That doesn’t necessarily mean it won’t happen again, but I have some tools now to prevent it including a sign my friend stole off a pole that reads “no dogs allowed” and that right there my friends is an example of good communication, a deterrent, and assertiveness in big bold letters! #goKim

My eating disorder is something I am still holding onto, but with each relapse and each trip to treatment I learn something new, work on another piece of life’s hurt that keeps me stuck and add more skills to my toolbox. Life is always a work in progress and as Bill Withers sang it best “We all need somebody to lean on” and that is okay. If we were meant to do everything on our own the world wouldn’t be a human race. We would all be introverts and there would be no such thing as financial assistance or advocacy centers. Asking for help doesn’t mean you’re incapable of being self -sufficient, it means you are humble enough to realize not every battle is meant to fight alone, hence the reason we have such a thing as an Army.

Life is meant to live moment by moment. It’s not a race, it’s not a timeline because you don’t know when it will end. You can still plan for the future, but live for the moment. Everybody’s pace is different. I just so happen to be in the slow lane with all the Asians and grandma’s. Well actually not really because I don’t drive so I’m still on the sidewalk, but what I’m trying to get across is that I wasn’t meant to be where I thought I would be by this age. I’m still learning how to cook, how to separate laundry, tip the waitress and on certain days I’m still learning how to friggin walk. Yea, tripping happens still, but at least I never wear white…I learned that last birthday.

Some great things happened this year. My cat is still alive and I think he still likes me and if he doesn’t he sure the hell does a good job pretending #actoroftheyear. I also made it into the final round of Chicken Soup for the Soul with a poem I wrote this summer. I’m sure there is some more, but the biggest accomplishment was being hired at Hospice. I have a grown -up job now and I get to wear scrubs that make me look important like I save lives or something when really, I just watch people pass away and pray for them. Anyway, it’s awesome. I enjoy each moment with my patients and love them all dearly. I am honored to be a part of their lives even if only for a few short weeks and sometimes days. It also is a reminder of how short life is. I appreciate them and am blessed to have such a good job with wonderful co-workers whom care just as much as I. I have a lot of goals this year, but I try not to focus on making too big a leap until I get myself healthy. One of those goals and probably the biggest is to finally meet Ellen. How nice it would be to do that before my memory starts to fade and my breast droop. I’m not quite sure what my breast have to do with meeting Ellen, but somehow, it’s important. Oh yea now I remember, if I meet her and I’m on TV in front of millions of people I have to look good and having perky breast is part of that criteria along with this damn fly away hair that just won’t lay down no matter how much vegetable oil I slather on it. Sigh… Here’s to age 27 and making the most out of each up and down I may encounter without throwing off my equilibrium.

©Kimberly Edwards

Animal crackers in my boots

I got home from a long day at program and pulled my black knee high boots off while pieces of animal cracker fell out of them. I had only managed to sneak two, therefore skimping on only 28 calories, but the high I got from having managed to get away with it was like nothing else. I was still in control. No one knew, so no one could stop me. This is my 5^th time in this partial hospitalization program perpetuated by a rape that happened only a month ago, I keep being asked “if you don’t want to get better than why are you here?” But a wise man once told me years ago, in high school that showing up was half the battle, so until I find the desire to be healthy I am banking on that 50% that just sits in group attempting to not crawl out of my skin or run.

Of course the guilt of not being able to sneak more of my dinner into my boots ate at me unlike the way I ate at my dinner so there I was in the shower 20 minutes later vomiting up carrots and chicken nuggets that I didn’t think would ever come up after having sat in my stomach for two hours. What can I say the tummy knows best and if it was still hurting to me that meant it was still digesting, therefore I had a chance to get rid of at least part of my dinner. I took the chance that someone might hear me but managed to go unheard as orange particles splattered all over the tub. I then quietly cleaned up the mess and thanked the Lord that I had not clogged the drain. I was told that since I have lost weight this week along with the last weekend they would be increasing my calories. Although I didn’t show it the anger raging inside me is like no other. I find that I am putting on this happy face and participating more in groups than I am comfortable with in attempt to hide the pain I am actually feeling, because once that lion is released there is no reeling it back in. It seems so counterproductive and in some sense, it is, but by lying to those trying to help me as well as myself I feel like I am somehow protecting myself from feelings that in the past I have allowed walk me to a bottle of wine, pills and razor blades. An eating disorder is less likely or will at least take longer to kill me than all the meds I have at my disposal.

The shaky feeling as I type and the feeling of emptiness and pains in my chest from straining to get up my food is a good uncomfortable. It’s a reminder that I am still in control and a part of me wants to announce it to the world “Look how accomplished I still am, I am winning!” But no one will hear it that way, matter of fact they might get mad or run or worst of all they might stop me. Well since I am not empty I guess I can attempt to digest this situation and consider if sticking around for the other 50% is worth it or if I should just move on and do what I do best, suppress my emotions while helping everyone else with theirs. After all it’s a much better use of my time than walking around with “animal crackers in my boots, monkeys and rabbits loop the loop”.

 

© Kim Edwards

December, 6, 2016

The 3P's of Depressive perspective

"Be soft. Do not let the world make you hard. Do not let pain make you hate. Do not let bitterness steal your sweetness. Take pride that even though the rest of the world may disagree, you still believe it to be a beautiful place" -Kurt Vonnegut. I heard this quote at my brother’s concert when he was being recognized by his high school band teachers as one of her few seniors headed for graduation. Although I may have nodded off during some of the performances, I held tightly to those words. I had never heard this quote before and quickly came to the realization that I had sadly been spending my life attempting to stay unchanged by surroundings and circumstances that weren’t conducive to my personal growth and health. I came into this world fragile, soft, energetic, kind, sweet, thoughtful, and always wanting the best for anyone I encountered. It’s amazing that I stayed this way considering the things I went through as a child. Some of the struggles consisted of being the daughter of parents with addiction issues, abandonment and consistent changes in my environment as a result of their addiction issues, and last but not least sexual abuse at the tender age of six. Someone whom had never met me or even known me for years would not have been able to tell by my demeanor all that I had endured. Well until my second year of high school when that soft young child got tired of being walked all over and her world seemed to be falling apart beneath her.

After quitting gymnastics, I struggled to find a new identity along with new friends in what I thought was a big school and I quickly slipped into a deep depression. People were mean, and in the beginning, I took it personally and kept my head down. The only thing I hated at the point was myself. But after a couple years of self- harming and trying my best to at least show kindness towards those whom had shown kindness to me, I finally got angry, but this time at the entire world and my personality made a complete 180. I was no longer soft. In attempt to protect myself I became hard and although hate was something I had already learned, I redirected it at anyone in my path. I was anything but sweet. I had become a bully by words of mouth. I was never aggressive, but I shot darts with my eyes and cut with my tongue.

Martin Seligman a Pioneer of positive psychology and human happiness came up with the concept or more so a model known as the 3 p's of depressive perspective. The 3 P’s are personal, pervasive and permanent. Before I get into explaining what exactly this means I shall first give you some background of how I was introduced to this model, as well as show it ties in well with Kurt Vonnegut’s quote.

During my weekly weight check with what I would say is the most amazing Nurse Practitioner, I mentioned to her some of the struggles I was having at work. I had just quit my job 2 days prior to my doctor visit. I had been working at a nursing home in which I was sexually harassed, disrespected, and ignored. I also witnessed abuse of residents whom were helpless and relying on the staff and I to work together as a team help them live as comfortably as possible during their last few years. I stated to her that I am so kind to people and that being ignored and disrespected by co-workers made me feel so alone. After listening she offered me some educational wisdom she felt would be helpful to me and my recovery and perhaps out of my deep depression. She told me right from the start that I was taking things personally and that what she had learned was that by me making those statements I was increasing my depression. This was her lead in to a very important and beneficial conversation. My Nurse Practitioner to me comes off very relatable which allows me to be vulnerable, honest and willing to really open my mind to her words. Last week when teaching me the 3 p's, the pessimistic side of me questioned whether or not this was just something she learned in school while working towards becoming a psychiatric nurse practitioner or if she could actually empathize. More often than not professionals are not honest about their struggles due to their desire to keep healthy boundaries with their patients. I believe though, by not being more personal this only reinforces the stigma around mental illness as well as creates an uncomfortable divide between professional and patient as if they are on a pedestal in which they are free of all mental illness. It’s nice to know sometimes we have something in common, even if it is painful. But not my nurse, she openly expressed that she too struggles with depression and that there are times when she herself curls up in a ball. Before continuing with the 3 P’s she shared with me another one of her techniques which is to put a time limit on the fetal position. With the help of medication and education such as the 3Ps, her depression is "well managed". That gives me some hope. So now that I have given you some background let me introduce you to this model that may or may not have a positive effect on your life and perhaps change it for the better so that you can continue to remain soft, unhardened, loving and sweet. By changing your perspective, you can remain seeing the world as beautiful place despite the negativity that often surrounds us.

"The realist sees reality as concrete. The optimist sees reality as clay."-Robert Brault. Just as Seligman has stated in his scholarly journal "Learned Helplessness; Theory and Evidence" there is also such thing as "learned optimism" another book Seligman has authored which is where you may find this model. Starting with the first P which stands for Personal. People who suffer from depression tend to feel that they are alone causing their minds to make statements such as "no one understands me" or in my case "she ignored me, she must not like me and no one else really does either. There must be something wrong with me. I cannot make friends." First of all, that is what is considered all or nothing thinking which is part of the Dialectical behavioral therapy model which I will not get into, maybe another day. The point of the 3P’s model is to reframe ones thinking thus allowing them to not fall into a bigger rut which then causes the depression to spiral. To reframe such a personal statement one could conclude "that person is ignoring me, perhaps she is having a bad day, not everyone ignores me". Just by reframing you have taken back power that your depression once had as well as the person or situation that pissed you off to begin with.

The second P stands for pervasive. An example is again the all or nothing thinking such as what I was saying last week at my appointment "Everyone is so mean; I just don’t care anymore." And to myself I kept repeating "Every time I try and do the right thing it doesn’t work out; I should just give up. I am fresh out of fucks!" This did indeed swallow me up into an even greater depression. It’s quite amazing how much power words can have on the brain. I believe that is why we were taught as children "If you have nothing nice to say, say nothing at all" and it is so true! To reframe this statement, it would have been in my best interest to say something more along the lines of "Some people are mean, but not everyone." And to take that one step further somewhat like a gratitude list, I could have listed in my mind just a few people that are kind. Instead of giving up I should have reminded myself that yea a lot of things seem to be hard right now, but there are many things I have to look forward to and although this job didn’t work out the world is filled with endless opportunities to the people whom are willing to go get them.

Last, but not least the third P standing for permanent. Do not make negative events permanent. Statements like "People are always mean to me; they always leave me out". By allowing this thought to occur and going with it, I have automatically shut out other chances or opportunities. I have given my depression the power to believe that things cannot or will not change when that is certainly not the case. Perhaps it was only one person that was mean, and I do indeed get invited to join in certain activities. I must continue to remind myself that not all situations are permanent. Explain negative events as temporary, situational and specific. Similar to when your boyfriend dumps you your friend’s say’s there are plenty of fish in the sea. Don’t make one event permanent. You close your heart off to people who could actually be really good for you.http://sourcesofinsight.com/permanent-personal-and-pervasive/

By learning 3Ps of depressive perspective you are opening your mind up to new opportunities, decreasing your depression, taking back power and giving yourself the opportunity to live out Kurt Vonnegut’s quote. As I mentioned earlier, helplessness is learned, but optimism is too. It may take longer to get out of the rut you are in but by reframing your thoughts, nothing will remain permanent. Even your depression. I leave you with one last quote when you are thinking that everything sucks and you feel yourself hardening, remember to "use your signature strengths and virtues in the service of something much larger than you are" -Martin Seligman. By doing this you are now also providing yourself with purpose and by loving and caring for things that have meaning to you whatever that is, you are also loving yourself.

©Kimberly Edwards

10/16/16

7:24 a part of Dear Deena

Dear Deena,

Today was my first time losing a patient. I think it was somewhat a blessing in disguise because I had never encountered him before but as I was passing food trays today I realized he was having difficulty breathing and I asked the nurse. She told me he was actively dying and my response was if I could sit with him until my shift ended. So I sat there and played my favorite soothing music by Kenny G, I thought he might recognize him. I stroked his hand and his head and let me him know it was okay and that he wasn’t alone. I prayed for him and asked the Lord that you and him would find each other and that he would tell you hi for me. I hope he heard me. While the woman opened the window so his spirit could be set free I came home and closed mine dauntingly thinking his spirit might get lost and fly into my window haha. Silly superstition, I probably made it up. Anyway I have been thinking a lot about you lately more so than normal. I think my reasoning for staying was partially because I didn’t get the chance to do that with you and that perhaps it would help me find some closure being a part of the entire experience. It’s heart breaking but also such an honor to be with someone during their last moments. I didn’t want him to be alone any more than I wanted that for you so in a weird way it felt much like a do over. The whole process though reminded me of you and the work you did. I am sure in your field you saw so much of the same type of things. The process is amazing, watching someone try so hard to hold on, but reminding them that it’s okay. Sometimes a suffering person needs to just hear aloud that it’s okay to let God and let God. There was another resident that has been taking about much of my time and although a great part of me wanted to be with him to help ease his anxiety and comfort him I just felt it in my heart that this stranger that was someone’s dad, grandfather, uncle etc…needed me more. Perhaps that was a sign from you. My best friend has lately been telling me “Kim don’t ignore the signs, Deena is talking to you and reaching out to you in different ways, and when you are unsure, just trust your gut and Deena that is what I did. I trusted my gut that this man needed my company and my love and that’s exactly what I gave him. Finding closure in his process I think may have helped me find some closure with your passing, but then again that just might be my mind overworking. Only time will tell and if I am blessed to have much more of it I will surely let you know. I love you dearly. Please do your best to show this man around as he is headed your way.

 

As his chest rose like the sun

With restraint I then prayed

God will you please take the discomfort away

And as I stroked his hand and rubbed his head

I thought not only of him

But you my dear friend

Hoping that in his last breath and slow close of his lids

You would show him the palace where angels now live

I would not change these actions

And that is for sure, while one door was closing

Heaven’s opened again On September, 29 TOD 7:24

©Kim Edwards

 

Dear Deena happy things make me more miserable

Dear Deena,

It’s been a while since I last wrote you, a little less than a month, and yet quite a bit has changed. Some for the better and some for the worst. I guess I will start with the good as it will take the least amount of time. So a week out of treatment I decided to apply at a clothing store that a friend of mine owned. The owner was great with such wit and free spirit that I could literally play on my phone and computer when the store was empty. That’s all any girl wants right? But not me. I am a perfectionist. Being able to leave for an overpriced Starbucks coffee might have been enough to keep some employee’s happy but for me, not understanding what I was doing due to lack of training which of course I misinterpreted as a lack of intelligence threw me into complete panic. Without some sort of medication treatment this job also wasn’t going to work. So with that I had my physician again put me on medical leave. During that time, I filled out an application for the CNA training I have been anxiously excited to apply for. There have been years I was too anxious to even inquire about an application, but within a day of filling it out I got a call back for an interview and with that I put on a cute pair of black dress Capri’s and a nice top to cover the battle wounds I have acquired over the last few years. I got the job. Deena I got the job. To me though it’s much more than that, it’s a purpose, it’s people relying on me to not only help them eat, dress and wash them up, but do what I do best which is to make them smile and know that someone truly cares. This could be a potential career, a license in my name stating that I am certified to help those in need. I will be doing something that very few in this world can do, especially with grace. It reminds me of you though when you were an EMT. I know how much you wanted to go back and do that. I remember that was a goal and a topic of conversation that always brought a smile to your face when nothing else would. But that high I experienced only lasted so long. My first week home I lost 3lbs mainly due to anxiety. After my appointment with my new psychiatrist I was put back on my anti -anxiety which allowed me to be myself and not struggle so much making meals and eating them which luckily meant I gained the weight back whoot whoot.

Then all the good things began happening and the guilt sunk back again, old habits picked up and well if I didn’t know any better I began to self -sabotage. (ex burning, drinking, isolating and restricting, oh and purging) I did try though Deena. I quit Wegmans after having worked there 5 years. It’s somewhat bittersweet. As my schedule got busier I took on more and planed more and started having fun. Without you. I tried to ignore the pain in my stomach by discussing my new job and the plans for my future that also didn’t include you. Friends and family began spewing all their concerns at me about how I would handle the intense physical labor, the cliques of the staff I would work with and the fact that I would basically be doing someone else’s brunt work, not having any idea that the excitement I had moments before had dissipated along with my appetite. I know it wasn’t intentional, they probably had no idea I would take it so personally and truly reconsider my decision. Still though I partied on with my new roommate and my sister whom I adopted 2 years before when she at one point was just a roommate. I drank, danced, sang, colored and took walks like everything was normal. But that was just it, it was normal; It was normal Kim before Deena passed away. I still can’t walk on your street no matter how inconvenient. I am too tempted to look in the window and ensure all your things are there where they belong which I know isn't the case so I avoid the block all together.

Thursday I thought it would be a good idea to call Brian because to me until the case is solved, there’s still a chance of you making an appearance. He mentioned to me that a letter was brought in stating that someone in this town was bragging about lacing your cocaine with fentanyl. How could anyone not only consider but follow through on such a heinous act of violence? You have always been nothing but kind, even too kind. Fragile, vulnerable, but with a heart of gold that I still believe lingers in each ray of sunshine that is holding on as Fall quickly rolls around. The fact of the matter is I want to stay involved whether it be learning new details of your unfortunate turn of events, investigating myself or simply just living in misery. My food intake has gone way down after that conversation because as much as I want better for me, I like you can’t rest or self care until I know everyone else is doing okay. You will never be okay. I don’t feel right celebrating my new job, taking walks with friends or dressing up for dinner never mind actually eating it. I had a meltdown the other day because no matter where I turn something reminds me of you and although that’s partially what I want, it only gives me false hope that you could come back. My doctor gave me a task to help keep me focused and in a way honor you whichI did by coloring as she asked me to. But as I got closer to finishing I realized it wasn’t as perfect as I would have wanted it to be, much like the way you and I parted ways and secondly, if I had finished the coloring it would have meant I did something you loved and you weren’t there with me to revel in it. It would be the end of the picture. The end of the fun, just like there was an end to your life. I don't prefer ends. Anyway it’s time for me to go eat dinner. I have a long day of training ahead of me. Today was only day 1 out of 4 long ones. My mom asked if I made any friends today, my reply “haha no, I didn’t talk to anyone” so thanks love for listening. I love you and in your voice I wish I knew what you were “finking”. Lol xoxo

Evoking change, the path to least resistance; Dear Deena Pt.1 recovery on my own

“People have a tendency to avoid feelings that are uncomfortable. The truth is, feeling uncomfortable can be good; it can evoke change…”-Unknown. Although I have always known this to be true my summer began with the question “What made you decide to try and kill yourself?” only followed by my response “Because I was a bad friend to Deena, I have to go to heaven to apologize.” The feeling of guilt which would soon be followed by a deep depression then denial and last, but not least the emotion I was sure got me into this mess in the first place, anger had been so uncomfortable I attempted to take my life. It wasn’t until my second attempt and a 4^th hospitalization that I realized I was not meant to take the path of least resistance, but to create an entirely different one.

In early April a great friend of mine came home from treatment for what could have easily been the 8^th time in her life and that is merely just a number I pulled out of my ass! She has been to treatment a lot! Despite her history of quick relapses and failed attempts at living a healthy life I had great faith in her, which I would soon find out was yet again unfounded. Everything in me wanted to believe this time was different, that she was ready to make the change despite how discomforting it may be. Perhaps the fact that it took many letters, a YouTube video, doctors request, calls to insurance, appeal after appeal, labs drawn and finally a go-fund-me page that made me think there was no chance in hell she wouldn’t fight for her life. But like I said, it took not even a week before old habits kicked in, depression took over and a self- doubt that not even my positive spirit could touch. Deena didn’t want much to do with food, but a part of her wished she did because she accepted each attempt I made to support her. Whether it was coming to my house and eating a burnt grilled cheese sandwich I made from scratch (I swear it was an accident) or sucking down an ensure while my greedy cat tried to get a lick of, Deena didn’t want others to give up on her even though she already had on herself. Anxiety though tormented her the same way it had for years and much like anyone her and I know, she was willing to do anything to make it stop, even if it meant stealing my pills or using cocaine.

Yes, Deena stole my pills. She was convinced that Ritalin would ease her anxiety and although she may have been right I was not prepared to deal with an addict or a thief, especially after spending so many days trying to help her see that she was worth so much more than her eating disorder or any other addiction that would only temporarily slow down her thinking. Like any human being I got very angry with Deena and in attempt to set healthy boundaries and protect myself I told Deena that I loved her very much, but we could no longer be friends. As far as the reasons why I decided to call the police I am unsure as it’s a partly cloudy with a chance of revenge. But I am pretty sure the main point was to make it clear that there were consequences for her actions and I could not be like most of her friends and let her get away with it. That’s just not how the world here works.

This journal is not meant to be all about Deena though, but it did start with her and it’s a greater part of my journey as I learn to live with pain, deal with grief and ask for forgiveness when I feel that I am guilty. Three weeks after this incident Deena passed away from an accidental drug overdose, something I have yet to come to terms with. My first reaction, shock, my first emotion, guilt and my first instinct was to grab hold of the closest razor which lay only 4 feet away from me in my desk drawer. It was true, Deena was gone and the last thing I had said to her was we could no longer be friends. One of her last days was spent being questioned by an officer I had called because I was angry. Why did I have to be angry? And now how could I live with the guilt? I just couldn’t, I wouldn’t and at that moment I pressed the cold metal razor into my skin and sliced downward as I sobbed, salty tears and snot running down my nose, I shuddered as I could barely catch my breath and between each rise of my chest which beat fast from hyperventilating I said “Deena I am so sorry, I am so so sorry”!

Here I am now on August 21, 2016 heading into what very well may be my last day in treatment at the same place Deena graduated from only 4 months ago. Matter of fact I am living in the same apartment she was in and perhaps sitting in the same bed. If I am though I don’t want to know. Deena spent her whole life running from emotions, hiding from pain under drugs and an eating disorder and I have spent the last 3 months doing the same damn thing. The difference between her and I though is not that I got more chances, but that I have come to the conclusion sooner than she, that although the path of least resistance can serve us well for a while the chances of learning from our mistakes and growing our future is less likely. Learning to accept the discomfort, walk in the darkness and explore the unknown can lead to what may just as well be the best days of my life! I have talked about some hard shit the last few weeks including sexual trauma and my last few days with Deena all while eating an excruciating number of calories and on the other side of it I have found a more authentic smile. While there are also more authentic tears, the joy is like nothing else, it’s uncomfortable, it’s new and well I think I like it. I’m not enjoying every moment of it, but I am learning to dance in the rain and who knows maybe I will one day look back at my Pinterest board and with assurance say “After a while I looked in the mirror and realized…Wow after all those hurts, scars, bruises, After all those trials I really made it through. I did it. I survived that which was supposed to kill me. So I straightened my crown…And walked away like a boss!” -Unknown

The Good Wife

The Good Wife

I wake up to you every day excitedly prepared

To live out my vows

I kiss you and cherish you

For better or worse

Through sickness and in health

I care for you, make you comfortable

Anything to make you as happy as you do me

Because I love you

Until the day you die

And therefore after

 

The Good Wife

You come home to a clean house

Even though I also had a very long day

Dinner is made, your place at the table set

You are late, you are distant, you are not the man

I kissed before you left

A bad day perhaps I brush it off

Because I love you

Until the day you die

And therefore after

 

The Good Wife

I question if you have become so comfortable

Or perhaps you have lost respect

Beyonce’s lemonade has me questioning

Who the fuck is your Becky?

We go to bed and I’m sleeping with a stranger

But unlike you, I don’t find pleasure in it

I feel very insecure

But I made a promise to God and even if you don’t remember

Until death do us part

Because I love you

Until the day you die

And therefore after

 

The Good Wife

The distance between us I now long for

It sure as hell is better than you telling me

All I am doing wrong

Not appreciating the lady, the Queen you also promised to love

I feel anxiety when I am with you

And when I’m not, I’m still anxious

I want so much to make it work

Because I love you

Until the day you die

And therefore after

 

The Good Wife

Just as soon as I begin to forget who I once was

The lady I once respected is now allowing this

This anger, resentment from a man

Whom is supposed to help me up

 

The Good Husband

You apologize and the man I met is back

I think nothing of it, I just thank God

You remember how to respect your lady

This happens for a little while

Because of my distance in reaction to yours

You manipulated me into accepting you back

I realize it wasn’t God that changed your mind

It was pure fear you may lose control, or me

Underlying the fear are your vows to make it work

Because you love me

Until I the day I die

And therefore after

 

The Good Wife

Your kind actions were short lived

My self -respect dissipated but only for a moment

I stopped cooking, I stopped cleaning

I found Becky, she was a metaphor for your hobbies

Along the way you stopped putting me first

I continued to do so because I love you

I wanted to make it “work work work work work” -Rihanna

…

The Good Wife

I left. I took myself and all my things

The memories I washed away

Because before I ever vowed to love you through it all

God made me vow to myself to always put me second after Him

Because he loves me

Until the day I die

And therefore after

 

© Kim Edwards

April 28, 2016