Where Do I Start?

This space that first began as just an ache inside my heart.

Read this first, then scroll to the bottom if you want the dorky poem I wrote you in print.

Watch the video first? - Lame as it may be…. I think?

THANK YOU to those helping this independent memoirist continue to work by upgrading to paid (which also helps my goal of gifting this every-weekday-writing-world to anyone who asks for a reading scholarship, no questions asked)

@cathingbreaths will have some catch up posts and shorter versions of words already granted here, since I post here an average of two weeks of anywhere else to aim to keep it special for supportive readers.

Thank you Word Nerds!

Where do I start? 

This will be my first "pause" from my Every Weekday Promise of writing since I began this goal in February. 

I think time, attention, support, and care is something to never be taken for granted... And so, even when I was in the hospital twice in one month, or on a trip with friends with odd WiFi, I sketched ahead so that I would live up to never missing an M through F because you really do mean that much!

Sometimes life gives you rotten lemons, and you're like, "I'll just get my 11'th Myelogram this week and try not to leak Cerebral Spinal Fluid this time" and that's not the thing that stops you (though that was last week for sure).

But sometimes, when something happens that has to do with the private side of your life (family)- the attic drawer that you guard with every part of your being unless opening it can help someone else get help- A person has to press pause for just a week, and beg forgiveness for not living up to what was committed to here as a Word Nerd.

I honestly don't know how I clung to the cliff this long to begin with?... But it's not my own ails and wails that take me down. Not really. It's if someone I love needs me. 

I'll be drafting and prepping and making sure I get onward with my promise to both you and myself promptly next week, if you'll forgive me... and though I know you're not my boss, and "normal people" take a day here or there when it's needed. To me, you ARE my boss (if I do something I do it 100%).... but that bit between the parentheticals is also why I'm not "normal".

Hopefully, my fellow neurotic friends, perfectionists, and compassionate Word Nerdothians won't mind too much if this one week is used for mental health, regrouping and protecting my fam...

But IF you need some things to read (doubtful, considering there have been 81 posts here since February, and there are so many brilliant writers on here to unearth), please see that time I wrote the equivalent of a chapter of a book in one post as I grappled with my mental health and took a day to Google "therapy" in a seedy motel (but wound up writing this instead), or the stretch of hospital confessionals from a couple of weeks ago, or even this movie column that I loved writing but haven't made a sequel yet because of pancreatitis, pain, and spine herniations. (Really, the latter bit.)

I hope to continue to make things that feel worth your time and support here, and I really hope that I get well enough soon to write more music columns because... well, that felt like pure joy. (For clarity: Health doesn’t stop my writing, but the longer pieces that I really want to do justice- like movies or music- do take my being able to sit and type without throwing out a disc like its frisbee golf.)

Thank you for YOU.

It's a little self flattering to do what follows- which is gross, ew- but a digital friend wrote me some of the following words recently that were not gross… And since they also referred to his own relationship with realism and cynism and silver linings and bluntness, I'll leave you with a quote about why we need to keep the earnest non-poet poets alive here, as much as we can.

We live in a world that loves to say, "Why aren't you smiling more?", without realizing we already are. 

"I just want to say that your melancholy pieces are extraordinary. I can never understand why people would push anybody to be sunnier but you can believe that a lot of people shrink away when they see some of the things that I write. I don't have a dark view of humanity in my perspective. Just realistic. There are lots and lots of great and beautiful things to be thankful for and I think I am and I have a lot of friends but some of them can't tolerate the very intense perspectives that I sometimes give them. Not to dissect my life, but to say I appreciate a life like yours that has to say what has to be said. You couldn't live with fake news about everything. It would feel so weird and wrong that you couldn't even continue writing probably"

Now, the poem that you should maybe watch the video for, because if I’m going to sing apologies for my supper… I am going to do so with flare?

Where do I start? 

This space that first began as just an ache inside my heart. 

I promised the weekdays, I swore towards the sun, 

But if I dreamed this goal again? It’d likely label one: 

I’d say: “Here are the words that lay trapped inside my head”

(While twisting and throbbing and twitching in bed)

The plan, as it were, was Monday through F, 

And I somehow did it; As promised myself. 

I wrote here daily, even when, 

Hospitals claimed me, again and again, 

I haven’t missed a day, you see, 

(I swore this then, to you and me),

But though I loathe my lack inside, 

I’m here to swallow sh*tty pride. 

I’m saying now, without your ask, 

I’d rather flee than fail this task. 

My oath remains, my ache does too, 

Through CT, scan, inpatient, flu...

I'm coming back, this flee is brief, 

Just please hold fast to your belief. 

I need you now, though it feels lame, 

To ask your faith despite my shame. 

It's true I'm not a poet, as surely you can tell, 

(But I did a little special post incase it helps this sorry sell).

Just kidding, that isn't true... That really has no meaning, 

Rhyme by reassurance is not some nuanced seasoning.

This feels like that time when Semisonic tried to say, 

"Exits" versus "Jackets" not: "Get out of the way",

This isn't a 'Closing Time', not a lengthy pause, 

I'm begging you for just a week... despite the weekday clause.

Life has filled with ills of which were not my body's kind, 

But even though it's just this week, Guilt is my design. 

I'll be right back, This will be fast, I'm sorry- be it swift, 

(I'll see you in a week, you see, if you didn't catch my drift.) 

I'm not a wordsmith of this kind, so I should have shouted "Bye!",

But even though I need some time, My worry floats on high.

Because I said, "It's everyday", My practical knows this: 

"Never take for grant this thing of which you've always wished. 

You want to write, without the hurt; That tortured 9 to 5.

A spine that's dust, a liver louse- But... "you have your drive?"

These friends, sat here, they know you well, 

And though you're oft a little hell,

They trust you now. They do support. 

So do not cut their faith, here, short. 

Time, it's precious. Phrase, is lost, But if you really have to know, 

This is a fancy way of saying I'm sorry I had to go. 

I'll see you Monday. I worry greatly, 

A one week pause will make you hate me. 

Though dropping bars, is not my style, completely out of range,

You are precious, You are Kind. You shouldn't be shortchanged. 

Did this tickle any fancy? Did I woo you back? 

Thank you for not giving up on me and my Substack. 

Share, Like, Restack in Notes, Forward to a Friend, Post on your Socials: All love is… well, more love going into the world!

(And if I can ever help YOU, let’s keep our karma paying forward and forward. So reach out?)