So I’m a veteran now..
Help me open this
C & P exam notification.
Look at that,
a winner has been selected
for my mental health’s raffle.
Combat activity report card reads as follows:
2 deployments for me
&
93% on the subject of
American history.

I felt the ghosts
of our heroes
let their tears fall
over my shoulder,
because the heaviest pen in
the planet struggled to check the box that was applicable to me.

I’ve been feeling decently
until recently,
when I was notified,
that everything
that I try to hide
in the tombs of my psyche,
will be –
resurrected,
dissected,
&
placed under
a microscope.
Picture my ptsd..
As a protozoa in a petri dish,
just small enough that I will never
feel whole (fill hole)
unless I open up,
I will never heal my soul…

Or maybe a telescope,

for everytime I’ve
spaced
out.

There’s a dissonance
in the distance that
slightly resembles the terror that
holds my happiness hostage.
“Incoming,”
Incoming,
Incoming!

any alarm
& this action movie
shapeshifts
into the horror genre,

Michael Bay
transforms into
Stephen King.

“It” is
“The Pet Semetery”
Where
“Cujo”
Is buried,
alarms also make me feel like
Jon Coffee walking
“The Green Mile.”

The Doha Accord was signed on
29 Feb, 2020.

Despite this alleged “armistice,”
the mirage in the dark was the target of many armaments..

12 bombs…I think?

like scalping your enemy,
i’ve tried to sever
that memory from my head,
but try as I might,
it hangs on by a thread,
how could I ever forget
the bomb that knocked me out of my bed?

& the subsequent phone call
to my parents..
telling them how
f*cking scared I was.

Oh, the heartbreak harbored in their eyes,
for only a handful of times,
have they seen their son cry,
but anytime I heard
Incoming, incoming, incoming..
It was at least possible
I might die.

I genuflect to inspect
These 17 coins I have earned,
Jaded-
I helped pack the grave dirt of far to many urns.
The petri begins denting from the inside.

Still Sealed by the gravity
That re-wrote history:
the fat man who crashed
bockscar in
Nagasaki.

Or
the little boy birthed
from enola gay
in Hiroshima.

“Do alarms really bother you?”
“Yes, it’s my heart beat playing hide and seek,”
“Is it getting any better?”
“Not really,
Every time I try & get some sleep
I hear the floorboards creak,”
“Isn’t it just another noise?”

“No.

It’s every thought I’ve ever had against my life,
The Grim Reaper’s sychte felt so cold upon my cheek…”

Im thankful for all of the help
that I have seeked,
for the last 4.5 years
I have my good days &
bad days,
& I’m hopeful that
one day,
it will be
Just Another Noise.
But until then,
I hope you see everyone is different after they’ve deployed.

If I were a flower I’d be a rose.
So ready for themes of love it sheds it weight in time.
“She loves me, she loves me not.”
Petal by petal I give away until I’m simply thorns.
First love. So sweet it hurts like a cavity of the soul.
Her smile so bewitching I gave it all to the unknown.
The feeling of driving to paradise on earth.
Beauty empowering me closer to the illuminating picture on the post card.
Vacationing in her warmth.
One by one, cloud by cloud the blue skies slowly wilted a gray.
I sway, hand in hand, in melancholic bliss waiting for a rainbow to split the clouds looming over.
No cover, adoration of the ever consuming rain gives hopeless fodder.
Consumed in gluttony of thine own sabotage.
Meddling; criminally in the poetic justice of one single word.
Love.
If only I told her that.
She was my Mona Lisa.
Da Vinci knew that beauty was not his possession, but the world’s to see.
Subject to a story of myth.
Lifted higher than icarus so I may learn how to fall; down.
Deeper, fallen into an abyss by the shot of cupids arrow.
Greeted by only a sign at the entrance reading “lost and found.”
A place in time existing only for lovers whose hearts wander off to the slaughter.
The unexplainable phenomena.
Wandering hopelessly until an improbable yet possible collision sets us back on course.
My lovely Andromeda to be.
A gift of fire I wish to collide with once more.

Borrowed time, tampered prime, descenigrating lapse of systems.
Taser filled opportunist lumes over sensibility. Exact knowledge of rephrased wisdom. Confiscated mishaps of vengeance paralyzing the, what if. In the midst of flavor verses favor, I prepare a table. Intense undermining of preparation, I convict thee. To serve or not to serve, the facade of the misled. The challenges exceed exhaustive state of forward movement but I stay ready. Tempting thoughts of fragmented steps so you can get ready and when you do, you stay ready!

Life has a funny way of showing you
That everything your family told you growing up
Is mostly true
Our stubbornness
Our hesitation
Our lack of paying attention
Often has us wondering
Once we get older
That the words we once heard
Now echo
As they become clearer
“You can’t please everybody”
Even when I try
I often only end up hurting myself
As a people pleaser
You fail at balancing
The very moment you don’t say yes
You are painted as such a bad person
No is definitely a part of the dictionary
But when you are so used to not saying it
It crushes someone’s spirit
Yet it feels so good
I am free to say no and not feel guilty
Not feel ashamed
Not feel the need to explain
It took a long time to get here
I’m not looking back
I deserve to own my decisions
I choose to not live with regret
I have self respect
How can I please everyone without suffering?
Simple
I can’t
I choose me
And if you can’t understand that
You are not meant to be in my life
Sorry if this offends anyone
But I’m taking my power back
I choose me first
And pleasing everyone is no longer my concern!

I would often hear people follow up a story of generational curses, uncontrolled emotions, disturbing behavior, and unimaginable situations with, “hurt people, hurt people.” I often wondered is that where the story ends? Later in life that statement would sound to me like an excuse. Same as when you hear people say “You know how they are.”

Now at 41, both statements make me cringe as I realize they are just words put together to hinder whomever that hurt person is. I once was a hurt person, unintentionally becoming every bit of the hurt I was complaining about feeling. It was a slap in the face to see that some of the things that hurt me as a child, I had recycled into my own life.

As a child, I struggled in the area of emotions, often time crying when I couldn’t understand certain feelings within me. Appearing on the outside a little off with the constant change of emotions, I found myself displaying anger when I felt vulnerable, weak, or afraid. It had become my defense until I realized I had become a very impatient parent, lashing out at my children when they expressed their true emotions.

I had become the person who didn’t take the time to listen; who was too overwhelmed to care; too quick to shut down and off and too emotionally distant to be the mother my kids needed me to be.

In 2021 I had to face the little girl in me who had thrown temper tantrums when she was hurt; and had shut down when she couldn’t probably process her emotions. I never took the time to be understanding of others when needed. I saw the hurt in my kids’ eyes for the first time and felt what my hurt was doing to them and I knew then they deserved the best version of me, not the generational curses. It was at that moment that I decided that if hurt people could hurt people, HEALED people could HEAL people and I’ve been on the journey ever since.

Dear Friend,

When we hear the word “motto”, we tend to imagine one of two things: either a cliché phrase full of platitudes and empty of meaning, or a lofty ideal too far out of reach. While other people talked about their mottos, I resisted living by one for most of my life. Doing so seemed unoriginal and unrealistic until inspiration struck in the most unlikely place.

The closest thing I have to a motto is a quote by Maya Angelou. “What you’re supposed to do when you don’t like a thing is change it. If you can’t change it, change the way you think about it. Don’t complain.”

I saw that quote for the first time in eighth grade English class. The teacher had us read a section from one of Maya Angelou’s books, an oddly progressive choice for a school in the South in the early 2000s. I remember being fascinated by the story as my classmates took turns reading aloud, but it was that quote that really struck a chord with me. At the time, I was a disabled nerdy kid from a low income family, a prime target for bullies; all of which were completely valid reasons to complain. I never considered how complaining could be a bad thing until I read that quote, but although it made me think, it would be several years until its meaning fully resonated with me.

By late 2010, I’d lost my father and any hope of leading a normal life. I was a young adult suddenly tasked with supporting myself and my mother on a single disability check of about $900 each month. My mother, to put it bluntly, lost her mind when she lost her husband. She barely came out of her room. She didn’t want to eat or bathe, and she refused to do housework or interact with the outside world. The mother who’d always supported me was gone, too wrapped up in her own grief to notice mine.

I had no choice but to push my own emotions aside to provide for us. As hard as it was, I wouldn’t have minded it, had it not been for my mother’s incessant complaining. Every day, I woke up to her ranting about how much she hated her life, her family, the house, the neighbors, the government… you name it, she had something negative to say about it! I tried to ignore it and carry on the best I could, but it became impossible to function in the world when I was constantly reminded of its darkness and cruelty.

Her negativity was contagious. It got so bad that I was angry all the time, and I dreaded having to interact with anyone. One day when I was a captive audience for her ranting, I had an epiphany. As her negative emotions spilled onto me, I thought, Is this how others feel when I complain? I remembered that quote from eighth grade English class, and it inspired me to make a change.

While I couldn’t change our situation or my mother’s reaction to it, I could change myself. I realized that wasn’t the type of person I wanted to be. I didn’t want to suck the joy out of others’ lives; I didn’t want to be the reason someone else fears the world. So I promised myself I’d never do what my mother did. Whatever horrible thing the world threw at me, I would face it on my own and not let it affect others. My problems shouldn’t have to be anyone else’s.

That is not to say my life has been all sunshine and rainbows since then. No, far from it! I have setbacks and down moments just like anyone else. Anyone who says they don’t have those moments is lying to you, and toxic positivity can be every bit as damaging as constant negativity.

As I grow older and hopefully wiser, my understanding of my motto quote grows too. I don’t think the message of “don’t complain” is about ignoring the negative moments in life; it’s about what you do with that negativity. It’s okay to feel down sometimes. It’s not okay to stay down forever, and it’s definitely not okay to drag others down with you.

The next time you hit a low point, I hope you’ll remember that quote and be inspired like I was. Whatever obstacles you face, I hope you find a way to move forward and create something good from it. Good luck and best wishes!

My worn hands feather away the curtain of fog, a forgotten smile hides behind the despair left within me after I was released from the hold of my abusive partner. Invisible scars cover my soul from years of turmoil. My body defeated with exhaustion takes one last step before collapsing into a field of fireflies. A sense of relief pervades my subconscious as I slip into a dream. My past of havoc vanishes into the shadows behind me, presenting a trail of glimmering hope ahead of me. The trail is lined with sparkles of suppressed dreams, frozen ambitions, lost relationships and security. The sky opens above me reflecting a shining glow of my concealed spirit.

Distant chatter awakens me as I see a hand reach down to raise me up. I am surrounded by those that watched my uninhibited spirit confiscated by the mercy of my abuser’s control. A smile unearths from the depth of my heart. I am lifted up as sparkles drop off of my new spirit into the shadow of my past molded into the ground beneath my feet. Wherever I may go, my weightless footprints filled with sparkle and shine replaces the despaired memories fading into my past.

A Moment in Time

Prologue:
Fleeting moments of crisis
Oft change our lives
Powerful lessons learned quicky
Affecting our day to day lives

I prefer to dwell
On memorable events which
Make me smile,
Understanding the world in new ways

Interlude:
Thirty years have passed
Since our eyes met
In a chance encounter
Over a fishing trawler’s prow,
Queensland’s coast in sight
You gracefully moved
Through blue waters,
Surfing the bow’s wave
Rolling playfully onto your side
Briefly, our eyes met,
As we peered into each other’s souls
Memory forever tucked into my heart,
I descended from my ivory tower,
Rediscovering my humility

Epilogue, 30 years later:
Under an African full moon
A majestic bull elephant
Paused in a small clearing
I sensed his peaceful energy

Positioning my hand
Over a puppy mill momma’s heart
I felt her sadness wash over me
In a single wave of salty tears

I will always be drawn to other species
Looking for deeper understanding,
Until my eyes and heart become
Unable to connect with others

A chance encounter
Thirty years ago
Forever altered
My life’s trajectory

-Beth Arrowsmith
October 1, 2024

“To live is the rarest thing in the world. Most people just exist, that is all.” – Oscar Wilde
To exist, to have an objective reality, I can just stand and wait.
But to live, what does it truly mean? Spending my days waiting for the time to pass, for the clock tick to be the voice that rules over my head? Most of my life was a waiting game to get older and be able to live, but am I living if I spend my days waiting? What am I worried about other than my time is being wasted?
I decided to start living, truly living. I moved across the country to pursue a dream. Where this dream will take me is only but a risk, a risk so big is it even worth living through? Well, I guess that’s the point, isn’t it? If taking that risk is my way of living then I’d struggle every day rather than existing in a state of comfort. I always thought that living was scary, but that’s the beauty. Taking a risk, doing something out of a daily routine just because it may make you or someone else happy. The clock tick in our heads are at different paces, we may as well try to live. Embracing ourselves and others, loving ourselves and others, truly being ourselves, and allowing others to be themselves.
That’s living.

There are so many good quotes out there, but instead of picking just one, I’m fond of two mottos since they kind of go hand-in-hand:

“Never a dull moment!” and “Boredom is never allowed!”

I would like to take credit for either one but that is not possible. I can’t even remember where I first heard them…. I know I heard them as a teenager. Before anyone picks on me with these two by saying “Well that’s cheesy,” give me a few minutes to hear me out:

We can ALL remember more than one time as a child when we whined, “I’m bored!” Boredom is defined as being uninterested in what you’re doing. It’s not just having that phase as a kid or a teen. It follows us into adulthood. Sometimes, it can become a sad sight as it forms into a bad habit. Even if we were to spend all our free time on social media, we would still find ourselves bored or empty. I feel like boredom steals away the few minutes of being alive, being excited, being creative, being helpful, and enjoying the small hobbies that you can’t stop thinking about doing.

So, what to do with boredom? I remember someone recommended serving and helping others. It can be chores for the tired parent. It can be yard work for the old lady up the street. It can be babysitting the kids for the single mom. It can be tutoring for students struggling behind. It can be doing charity work, shelters, or fundraising. Also, that same person said, “If you’re bored, you’re selfish.” It’s kind of a joke, but also quite true. Whether helping someone or getting back into the hobby you missed so much, there is no room for boredom. It’s even become a home rule in my life.

Maybe we’ve even been to the one place we said was dull, the meeting is dull, or the exact moment is dull. Dull is lacking excitement or lack of interest—-goes well with boredom. Dull is plain, gloomy gray. Sometimes it becomes the word in the mind that tells us, “This sucks.” Let me ask you: does it have to be dull?

Not everything in life has to be dull. For example, there were some quiet days when at work. Not many customers. All shelves have been dusted. The numbers have been counted. Everything is checked, double-checked, and triple-checked. So how do I pass the time? When having a standing job, I danced to the music. I didn’t care if I was being watched, it actually entertained other coworkers watching me dance till they found themselves dancing too. It wasn’t like full-blown crazy party time. I just wouldn’t allow dullness to kick in. It was an opportunity to enjoy the moment.

Finding the doors of the sweet things of life, and shutting the doors of boredom and dullness, will bring pure joy if you allow it. It can be found in your job. It can be found in your free time, at home, with your family and friends, anywhere. You don’t have to wait for the opportunity, make and be the opportunity. I don’t consider myself smart. But I do know that life is short, and a lot of wasted time is being flushed away. We need to make room for problem-solving. Take time to enjoy time with others. Carry the torch in helping the communities. Find and do the small steps. It will lead to big steps, making a difference in our lives, and in others.

Tupac said long live the rose that grew from concrete when no one else even cared
I am a concrete rose
My seed was planted in darkness and I was lost
Every root digging deeper down not knowing this was building a strong foundation
A little sliver of sunlight through a tiny window
A little sprout out the crack of cement
What’s out here? There’s so much room
Maybe I’ll just stay down here
But I couldn’t help but to think
What’s out there?
What can I turn into?
My mind was set
I decided to bloom
Yeah sunlight is cool but who says sunlight must come from the sun?
I am my own sun and my light comes from within
Yeah it’d be cool to have someone water me but people walk in and out this room
Guess what?
Theres no watering being done
Nobody cares
So now I choose to water myself
Woah look at me
I’m growing so beautifully
Strong roots, healthy leaves, vibrant roses
My roots lift me up and move me somewhere new
I am now a rose bush
I survived and outgrew that very dark room
I am free