Old me would have a lot of judgement and criticism for current me to handle. Current me would have to sit her down and help her understand how things unfolded. She’d probably fall off her chair. I imagined old me sending a letter to current me and then turning up at the door.

Letter from a Former Self
Good morning, it’s been a minute.
I hope you are aware,
Those ideas you had were fine like china teacups-

What was that? Sit a minute? Sure. Maybe we can have a little tea;

Do you remember the time Mrs. Wright gifted us an entire set, with the blue flowers around the rim?

Do you still like teacups like that?

What color did we finally paint our kitchen?

Do you still like handmade toys and long walks with ice cream cones at the end?

Did we stay the course or bail on the grumpy hubby? Of course we stayed. How many prayers did it take? I can see something finally worked, you look content. So he must have stopped with the shoving and choking and all that.

What devotionals do we like lately?

How many languages do we speak these days?

Did the kids go to college?

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It’s been ten years,
Yet we still pretend.

We hold a smile,
When it’s asked for.

We do as we’re told,
Even though we hate it.

And everywhere we go,
It’s all the same.

Everywhere, we go,
It’s the same.

It’s been ten years.
We’re still pretending.

In 2013, something horrid happened to me. It didn’t happen to just me, or affect me the most. It was a betrayal that left me and my children unsafe.

For years, I disregarded how this affected me as I focused on how it affected others I love. How it affected me became a small side story. So, for years, I didn’t bother acknowledging my personal hurt. I had huge obligations to assist others through their journey toward ok-ness. Those others are my children.

What happens then, if there is no ok-ness for me? I’m about to tell you.

The first thing was tears. It was about ten months of tears every night. By myself, alone. For all of us. In waves. During the day, I was raising kids. At night, I was grieving my wounds and losses.

Next came denial. Maybe we can live with this? After all, we aren’t dead and it’s surely been misery, but what’s the way out of misery? Others I loved chose denial, and it seemed to work for them. Some who got hurt are still using denial to cope.

One day, like a lifting fog, I realized denial costs too much. Almost immediately, intense anger replaced my denial.

It’s exhausting to be perpetually angry. Being the body of all-consuming anger is only useful if it leads to justice, and, sadly, it didn’t.

Numbness replaced the anger. God faded into meaninglessness. Emotions faded from red to pastel pink. The duty to continue to exist remained, and that was all I could manage.

For years.

For a decade.

I became a pale version of myself. I could function, raise kids, held down a complicated job. I paid my mortgage and took showers and cooked meals and taught my kids skills to live. Kind of.

If I could have been a better version of myself, I could have taught them more than the bits I managed. I guess I taught them to persevere. The struggle became normal. I thought I had pulled it off, this existing after horror gig. I believed I had healed. What I had actually done was to mute emotions and function in logic as a self protective mechanism. It was very effective; I felt functional. I had emotions, I just vetted them. Numbness was surviving. I felt safe enough to go on.

It took 11 1/2 years for me to fully face my healing. Finally, I could leave safe logic and dulled existence on the table to pursue a little authentic joy.

At first it was scary to feel emotions with some intensity. Emotions can lie! Slowly I let them lead me to some old loves: baking, drawing, building, painting, sewing, exploring, dancing, writing. Can I do it? For myself? And can I survive feeling it? Can I forge trusting relationships with others? Can I trust myself? The world is again wild with color, after so many years of color washed out by pain. Will I choose healing or familiar pain?

Not every day goes too well. Some days I retreat. This healing journey will take more time. But now, instead of hiding behind logic, I use creativity to process life, to feel myself heal, to be alive.

This is like waking from a trance. It is stepping back into my authentic self after an absence.

It is nice to recognize the person inside; although I am much older and much more worn, I have a hard fought value. I am here.

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MISadventurous this journey has been, an UNDERcurrent at its best, up STOOD obstacles, truly a mess!

MISaddressing me proves UNDER appreciation, but still your side I’ve STOOD by.

MIShandled and ransacked, I held in my screams, feelings of scUNDER, I STOOD mute clenching lips and fists, only daring to breathe.

MISprinted fingers UNDERStand I have the right to remain, I STOOD charged with a crime no man could name!

MIStrust kept me UNDER investigation, overSTOOD fingers always pointing!

MISlead, false impressions had me UNDER, by my side thought you’d fight, you said you STOOD for what was right!

MISs raise your right hand, swear to tell the truth, UNDER oath you are to be and before the jury you’ll have STOOD.

MIScounted votes omit recognition, UNDER high pressured capacities I perform, only to be withSTOOD.

MIScalculated assertions UNDERbid my value, nevertheless my worth STOOD out.

MIStrial this is sure be, UNDERwhelming evidence in place of truth STOOD against me!

MISdeeds you performed, you deceivingly sUNDERed the friendship, I had STOOD on tip toes to reach.

MISused my vulnerability, gazUNDERed my strength, this bully I’ve out STOOD though it hurt when you hit!!!

MISinterpreted words time and time again, hurled insults and accusations, I just don’t UNDERstand, shield raised I STOOD hoping one day this will end.

MISrepresented by your counsel, UNDERpeopled in my defense, distraught I STOOD feeling most certainly helpless…

MISconstrued my abilities, a blUNDER you proudly STOOD with.

MISjudging me, you UNDERhandedly sentenced me to be STOOD lonely, humiliated for all to see!!!

MYSterious is this UNDERtaking, I STOOD confused; was I really wrong for loving you?

But here it is, the real, the truth revealed.
This has nothing to do with me, but everything to do with you…
The reason I am, “Mrs. Here’s a tissue, Mrs. Why are you so blue?”,
Mrs. Unaccompanied, Mrs. Un Withstood, but almost always mostly know as Mrs. Under Stood

Heartbreak
Is everywhere like dropped dishes
She sits and sips her coffee
Appears calm and composed
Amid the shattered glass that today was, figuratively speaking
This time

She looks through her memory of today
And finds the pieces of porcelain that have pretty filagrees and bits of flowers
To laugh if she can
She looks aside from the pieces
To see what is not broken
Fixes her eyes on what is whole and real and doing well
She clutches those things in her hands
She has to be careful not to grasp them too tightly
In case even that
Were broken.

She waters plants
She sings songs
She breathes cold air
She plans a garden
She plans a project bigger than this day
She shops for dishes
She is defiantly hopeful

The church ladies said “what a devoted mother”
The neighbor said “your so busy all the time”
Truly
She’s running from one moment to the next preventing disasters & providing cues.
She:
Hugs this child and hopes it is somehow healing to them both
He:
Stares out a window quietly
No words
He is a mystery
Hope is present like a cat that doesn’t like attention.
She is sure
Today was “not that bad”
Brave face to the moon
She is sure
Another day will come
Soon enough.

to feel my sadness
and the madness

the silence
and imbalance

to love my hatred
of my ego wasted

twisted and
unmotivated

to care,
and to continue

something new
long overdue

My goals in 2025 include healing and allowing myself to move forward. Here is my poem of hope.

Can you take an axe
A pick or a maul
And hollow a space in the stone the width and breadth of two
And I will use the hand plane and the lumber and I will use bolts and braces
To fashion a door for the hollow
Latch it
Strongly.
Once we are both inside,
And the world is fully outside
We will cry the racking sobs that have nowhere else to go
Held back fourteen years and some
Odd months or so
When we emerge
You will be iron and I will be alloy
And the sun will warm us
And can you
If you are able
Undo the lashings holding this pack
It is heavily filled and spills over
With sorrow and regret
Causing me to stoop
Can you if not such an imposition
If you have the strength
Help me drop it in the river
Then
We will build a table of oak and maple
And we will set it with all good things
And eat our fill of it
Til joy happiness mirth and innocence
Are the only things we can hear ringing in the forest

Briskly shuffling my feet, brushing off the chill of the morning air. Everyone piling into the car which had been packed the night before. Sun hasn’t even risen, and we must remain on schedule. Arriving late, we cannot do, our flight will not delay. An hour’s drive to arrive, finally we made it. Finding a parking space, easy, but why am breezing by the loading dock for the second time? Check in bags, boarding pass, on to the next line. TSA, put that away, no water bottles getting by.

Done and done, now we await our plane to arrive. I’ve never flown before and for my children, bravery will I perform. Another line, but this time onto the plane we’ll ascend. Down the small hallway, I see the small entry, leading into a compact space. The engines rave and the tires roar. Into the sky, we lift, up, up, we soar, turn, then we shift. Below my feet there is no surface only streams of influx, keeping this tin can afloat. Turbulent tumults rattle my seat, but the fear I thought I’d have, was nowhere to be seen. This challenge I carried all my life must now proclaim its defeat.

The first descent lays over in Orlando; sunshine and a warm breeze. Our second descent brings us to paradise, our long-awaited event. A roar of applause washes over the passengers, and beautiful song over the intercom. A song that rings out in my heart and from my mind the words have never departed, “Yo te quiero Puerto Rico, yo te quiero Puerto Rico.” Departing at a fast pace, I make my way to the baggage carousel. I break into a Sprint eager to make your acquaintance. When I finally laid eyes on you, my contentment I did not hide. “Bienvenido a Puerto Rico,” your words dressed as fancy invitations. Bystanders stare as our affections overflow proven by shrieks and squeals.

Finally, we made it, can’t believe we’re all here. I’m standing in the place I thought I’d never see. The climate is a major change. The air warm, thick, and heavy. It sticks to me as if I’ve just been layered in sweet candy. The night sky and the beautiful landscape dazzle as my eyes dance from one side to the other. So many things to see and everything I want to discover. The homes sprinkle the mountain sides as colorful as the rainbow. Each neighbor a different flavor, though our dwelling was my favorite one of all. La Casita Amarilla, even more beautiful than the pictures told. Your face is bright and not ashamed. You’re small but very bold. Luscious green grass surrounds your exterior, beautiful mountain ranges paint the background. In the dark, it is to me, that the Coqui sings, while in the hammock to and frow I softly swing. The sun shines bright, rising early to give light, like a kiss, it also offers its warmth generously, just like an embrace. The rain comes down with the beautiful sound shhhhhhhhhhhh, it calls me from my sleep. This extravagant curtain on every side, glistening, it surrounds me, from heaven to the earth coming down, bowing at my feet.

I don’t feel like a visitor, this is the place that I am meant to be. The people are kind, smiling as you pass. A gentle nod, a Buen Dia, along with Buen provecho as you prepare to feast. The streets are full of music. The Bachata a consistent bidding. The food has made me smile. The ocean has captured my tears. My shoes are dusted with sand and seashells have my pockets full. I’ve been allowed to place my hands on family I haven’t seen in a year or more. This island has brought so much joy, enough for me to store.

I couldn’t help but shed a tear and let it wash away with the swell. The thought of leaving you behind, this story I don’t want to tell. Every year we come together sharing our day of birth. Crossing the ocean, for you, I came in honor of our day. May we both live to see it this is something that I pray for. My best friend, the girl with the same face, my lifelong playmate, my twin. Being this far away from you is a challenge proven. The love we have for one another no one can ever ruin.

As I pack my bags, I bid farewell to this Island that has been so kind. The hardest thing to leave here is you girl, my silent communicator, the reader of my mind. I take my seat, and my heart breaks. I couldn’t keep it in. Bye for now, best friend, I can’t wait to see you again. Long layovers finally bring us home to Oklahoma. The cold breeze welcomes as the emptiness makes its grip. The cold night air whips around, whispering in my ear. Already I miss you and there’s no way to make you appear. 2,232 miles away My heart now resides. I swapped it in exchange for the one I now clutch on a key chain. The chill makes me pull my jacket closer. The breeze of blue surrounds, but a warm glow is left in my heart, more than enough to warm me.