Workaholic

I went into medicine partly due to heartbreak

The exhaustive training of medical school and residency was a welcome albeit ineffective distraction from my sorrow and loneliness

24-hour shifts are a convenient justification for not keeping in touch with loved ones

Even though the real excuse is my social anxiety and sense of inadequacy

Living within hospital walls, I suspect that I am not the only physician who became a medical doctor to try to forget unrequited love, to escape the world of human relationships

My older colleagues work far more than they need to to make ends meet, far more than any reasonable person would work in a week

Who needs friends or feelings when you have patients and science?

Our skin grows pale under fluorescent lights

Our vision becomes shortsighted as the screens stare unblinkingly

Our hearts forget how to feel carefree

Our muscles atrophy as our brains hypertrophy

Our minds become boxed in with facts, our mental filing cabinets overflow

I am a recovering workaholic working alongside workaholics who do not appear to be in recovery

Perhaps they suspect the same of me

Heads down in the trenches, none of us can know another’s heart

We can only know our own heart, if we listen

We carefully administer medications, surgeries and therapies

We measure progress in numerical metrics of lab values, calculated scores and vital signs

We arrive early and stay late

We work day and night without a break

We always have too much on our plates

We deprive ourselves of sleep, fresh air and food

We know why we have irritable moods

Practicing medicine is an unhealthy, imbalanced lifestyle and we know it

We can only ever heal ourselves

I’m ready to show it

I am finally healing my broken heart

I found that I had to begin at the start

Childhood wounds tangle and bloom

Trauma begets trauma until we change our thoughts, words and actions

Breaking old patterns even as we hold traction

I am love itself, I am the source of what I sought

My cup overflows, it was not all for naught

Anxiety

Anxiety, my oldest companion, always by my side

Anxiety

Ball of wirey grey string inside me

Buzzing like an agitated hornet’s nest, threatened and angry

Tangling, strangling, suffocating

Drowning me under dark metal walls rising

Closing in under the pressure of the shadow mountains of never enough

This shifting, terrifying scenery is my home

My neurobiological foundation was not built on safety or security

My mind was melded in the hellfire of anxiety

Flames of self-doubt licking at my heels

Constantly threatening to burn me to the bone

Venomous teeth bared,

My serpent of self-doubt is poised

Ready to strike

That’s how I get through the night

Jaw clenched tight, insomnia punctuated by nightmares

In a lucid dream I fly

In my many travels, I learn a thing or two

I understand now

That my anxiety is my servant,

Trying to protect me

From the many and varied perceived threats

Of my childhood and my adulthood

I breathe in deep

Let my tea steep

Beyond the dragoness serpent, the ring of fire, the charred walls, the mountains holding the howling winds of loneliness,

I see beyond all these horrors

With each breath

A bit of sunshine blue shines through

That bright and buoyant sight

That glimpse of the outside, of a new approach to life

Is all I need

To find peace

To hold hope

To savor the long years of hard suffering, mucking through mud

only to realize that my heart is a lotus blossom of healing

I am kneeling in humble gratitude

With each breath,

My serpent uncoils and I see her beauty

My flames simmer down

The earth beneath me settles and breathes with me

My walls fall, overcome by vines

Even my massive mountains of worry breathe,

Lush with Spring

Thank you for your service, anxiety

You can take a break from protecting me

This moment does not have to be a struggle

In an instant, ease breaks through

I breathe and bow to you, anxiety

ACEs

ACEs

Adverse Childhood Experiences

Most of us have had adverse childhood experiences
Some of us more than others-
Traumatic experiences with catastrophic consequences which ripple out from our core to the edges of existence
Some of us have lived a life of consistent resistance
We were struggling, fighting uphill battles
When we should have felt carefree, playing with rattles

Experiences so awful and early
That rigid prison bars were imposed around our developing minds and bodies
Restricting our growth

I’m not writing an excuse for my shortcomings
I’m fueling my fire to heal humanity
Enough already with the insanity

Trauma tangles our DNA, the epigenetics way
Turning off certain genes and turning on others,
But we can be better than our fathers and mothers
We don’t have to pass it on
We can heal ourselves

Do something each day to heal yourself, your body will guide you in what to do-
rest, relaxation
movement, meditation
quality sleep and fresh food to eat
energy healing visualization, repeating positive affirmations

I won’t ever be the person I might have been had I not had all those adverse childhood experiences- every form of abuse and neglect
raised by people who were unwell, making my childhood a living hell
However, because I am a wounded warrior, I have a burning desire to share my fire, let my inner glow light the way for others to know that a better life is possible

You are your own healer.
There is so much to fear and worry about.
So much to feel sad and angry about.
I spend a great deal of time and energy worrying what others think of me.
This is likely because of the explosive rage inflicted upon me whenever I displeased others while I was growing up.
But they were displeased to begin with.
Their happiness was never my responsibility
And now I feel like everybody’s happiness is my responsibility
But it is not
I am only responsible for myself

It is enough to mind my own mind- check in with my thoughts without worrying about what everyone else is thinking all the time.

This is a practice, and practicing is enough.

Constant dripping of water hollows out a stone.

My pain is the stone, and my healing is the water.

Like water, I do not stop when I encounter an obstacle, I keep flowing. I heard that all rivers flow to the ocean.

Your healing is natural, it is part of the universal life force.
But you can help it along- how you treat yourself is the most important action you can take.

Oh Great Spirit, may I stay on this healing path.

I have taken many exams, however healing from my ACEs is the most important test I want to ace.

Thank you to all the healers, all the hard-working professionals who help raise awareness about ACEs, help prevent trauma, and help blaze the trail of recovery.

Courtroom

In one version of my personal hell,
I am on trial
For the many hearts which men claim that I’ve broken
The courtroom is filled with shouting, controlling, angry men

‘But I gave you my body!’ My voice is only audible to myself amidst the raucous.
Who can say that my body was not a fair trade?
I feel that I over-paid, but none of the men ever asked me how I feel.

The men start to turn on each other, because they are each jealous of the others for having had my body- a body they felt belonged only to them
Undeserving jerks

They each find plenty of reasons to despise each other, comparing muscles, testicles and penises

Amidst the fury, I sneak out the back, silently shutting the door
Leaving them condemned to their misery

Outside the courtroom, the world is peaceful, beautiful, blissful-
Birds are singing, the sun is shining as it paints a rainbow across the sky
Each insect and blade of grass adds its music to the symphony
The trumpeting flowers and heralding trees
All celebrate with me
I am free at last

What the men failed to realize is that not only do I not owe them my body- or anything else for that matter-

My body is not even mine to own-
We will part one day, this sacred physical vehicle and I-
When my journey in this lifetime is complete
After many healthy and happy years
Which have only just begun

Bra-less and Lawless

 

Bra-less and lawless
That’s what I am
I solved the problem of my poverty creatively
That’s code-speak for ‘illegally’

Because prostitution
Isn’t recognized by the institution
Ironically, it’s the same men who rule the world
Who pay money to have sex with girls

I’ve jerked off CEOs of international companies
Wildly successful ones that you might support everyday
In our inevitable, consumeristic way                                                                                           Like common street pimps, the government and corporate thugs take the money they want, leaving the rest of us just enough to stay alive so that we keep making them rich off our blood, sweat and tears all the years of our lives                                                           We break our backs while their bank accounts grow fat collecting tax

Sometimes I break the law                                                                                                        When I was a sex-worker, I limboed around the law by making a living without paying taxes on my wages, unless you count the immeasurable tax of physical and psychological trauma, which like a war within me rages

Sex work was an avenue to do what I could to improve my reality
With a heart of gold: I did it without hurting others, young or old
I even donated some of my hard-won earnings to charity
Robin Hood is a hero to me

Sometimes I let it all hang out and go bra-less
I am a woman in a man’s world (though we’re fighting for our human rights!)
Taking my bra off feels like exhaling, ‘Yes I am!’

Letting my breasts fall forward to where they naturally lay
Feels like the first time I did sex work and got paid
I could finally afford to buy food instead of scavenging through the trash,                         no more would I dine on the stale leftovers of rats
All I had to do was survive an hour behind closed doors with an asshole rapist                   it was like any other day, except that I got paid a livable wage

Poverty feels like an uncomfortable bra
That is two sizes too small
It cuts into you and suffocates you
Until there is only one thing left to do, if you can
Break free

I’m not saying that everyone with financial difficulty should find employment through illegal activity, although that seems to be the only option at times
I’m saying that feeling comfortable
In your body, your mind and your life
Is something worth striving for
I hope you feel comfortable in some way every day

Freeing myself from poverty was not quick or easy,                                                      Although the lucrativeness of sex work at first made me believe it would be.      Sustainable change takes time                                                                                                         In the long run, it took a lot of hard, unpaid effort educating myself to reach a place of true comfort; for austere years I lived without many things I wanted because most of all, I wanted to be free                                                                                                                                I wouldn’t change my journey for anything                                                                                    I am grateful for all that I learned, the profound ways that I healed spiritually and am healing still, the people I met, the goals I accomplished, the places I’ve lived and…

how good it feels to finally come home to myself, to my heart and my body                     The journey isn’t over, but I know that whatever the future brings, I am ready

…and for the moment, bra-less

Dance with the Devil

I’ve met the Devil plenty of times
He’s a man with a drink in his hand, asking for mine
He’ll buy me a drink and drop a few dimes
But in the end, he’s just another waste of my time

I’ve seen the Devil at close range
I feel his eyes on me; he looks at me strange
When I hesitate to perform his every wish
(Whether or not I know what his wish is)

At first I make him happier than he’s ever felt before
Until I leave his heart panting on the floor
I survive with him til I remember how much I’d thrive without him

Like anesthesia, my amnesia wears off eventually

And when it does it’s like I wake up in the middle of surgery

Open heart in a bloody mess, I struggle to pick myself up and get dressed

Headed for the horizon, under duress, yet determined and strong, I sing my single song

Until I meet my sacred Devil again

And he gives me another chance to burn, another opportunity to learn

How many times must I learn how to get out of a toxic relationship?

Please, let this be the last time

The key lies in prevention, so I laid down a one simple rule:

Never be alone with a man behind closed doors, especially when alcohol is involved

The Devil likes to dance naked with me
His dick points at me like a compass needle
And I’m due-North, though I’d like to head South
His dick feels like a poison mushroom in my mouth
I want to spit it out, and shout:

Devil be gone- we’ve been dancing too long!
My feet hurt and they’re caked with dirt
Haven’t we made each other suffer enough?
Surely, your attachment to me feels rough
When I rip myself away

I’ve ripped myself away from the Devil
Plenty and plenty of times
I hope that I can quit him for life
You are my witness by reading this rhyme

Finding Sukha

Sometimes I feel angry
I could blame my parents for the anger they passed down to me through their nature and their nurture
But they are only survivors of abuse and neglect themselves, victims of inter-generational psychological torture
I like to think that they were doing the best they knew how
With limited resources at the time
It was a different world back then;
There was little awareness and poor preparedness,
Less information and more isolation

Sometimes I feel sloppy
My movements get choppy
I crash, splash and make a mess
I only hope that I don’t take anyone down with me
When I slip and fall
Reminding me that in my haste, I don’t save time at all

Sometimes I feel on edge
I am irritable and my mind carves a ledge
Off of which I can easily slip
Into a hellish well
Of memories echoing back at me
Little things that seem big disproportionately when viewed at close range

Like the time an ex gave me condescending lip
When he proudly pronounced the word ‘dukkha’
Then judged me on how the Sanskrit word (not the concept, mind you) was unfamiliar to my vocabulary at the time

Dukkha is commonly translated as ‘suffering’, which is an important concept in Buddhism because the Buddhist path was designed to liberate people from suffering by helping them first overcome their desires/selfish cravings

I am all for liberation, but his elitist attitude was not resonating with me
That fool tried to school me on suffering like I’d never suffered a day in my life, when I’ve suffered every damn blessed day of my life

So I gave him a lesson in letting go of attachment by leaving him

I thought he could stand to benefit from the lesson and

I don’t need to take shit from a privileged prick about fancy words that I was too busy earning a living through sex work to have the time to learn from a text book

Books are hella expensive anyway

That’s why I gladly share my writing freely

Cuz I want it to reach people like me

People who were born into economic or emotional poverty

Through these simple words I string together

I humbly hope to help alleviate suffering in others

Perhaps it only helps alleviate my own suffering, but even that would be enough

I am a person, too

Also, writing feels like free therapy to me

I’ve still never been to actual therapy

I hear the prices are crazy

But I digress…I don’t have the energy to deal with fits of vanity

from spoiled boys who get off on looking down on me and the rest of the world

I think that instead of judging anyone who hasn’t heard the word ‘dukkha’
It would’ve served him better to find sukha
Sukha means ‘ease’

My point is this:
Everybody experiences dukkha (suffering, pain, unsatisfactoriness or stress) and hopefully sukha (happiness, ease, pleasure or bliss) in their lives
Everyone around the world attends the school of life; we are born, live and die in that classroom
But not everybody has access to the luxury of learning outside of their immediate human interactions
However that makes them no less educated than those who have the resources for recreational reading
At least in my book

So I’d tell that ex (if I could stomach the thought of communicating with him, which I presently don’t)
That if he thinks he is superior to others
Because he’s so well-read
Then maybe he should know
How to fit his ego back inside his head

With compassion, I recognize that fear of inadequacy lies at the root of his speaking boastfully

Here are some lessons that I’ve learned, and they aren’t in Sanskrit:
The ego inflates easily but deflates again eventually, and when the ego balloon gets stabbed by a needle it can be a long, hard fall down to the ground                                                                                                    Liberation from our egos and freedom from our desires is the ultimate gift
Money can buy a book but it can’t buy wisdom
Material wealth will get you inside the ivory tower but it won’t shelter you from suffering

Just look at my ex; he was rich in his wallet but impoverished in his heart-mind
Leaving him so that I could be poor but happy
Was a decision that put me at ease,
At ease like sukha

Sometimes I need a lesson in letting go too

Sometimes I find sukha

Borderline

You and I walked the line-
The thin border that separated us
We got as close to each other as we could

Your mood swing shook the ground, turning the crack between us into a canyon
Sprawling vastly between us, there was no way to stitch or suture us back together
I was shaken down by your rumble
My hopes for us buried in the rubble

Slowly, we picked ourselves back up again
Separating the pieces of you from the pieces of me
Resurfacing, scratched and bruised
Older and wiser

You seem borderline
Leaning so close in
Then so far away
I might be borderline too
We swerved toward and away from each other
At a dizzying pace
I’m trying to figure out
Where is the line with you?

You crossed the line with me
Too many times
It was my fault
For not drawing a boundary, not staying true to my heart
But I’m drawing it now
By cutting you off
Instead of cutting my skin

You kept invading my body and my life
I’d rather do other things with my time
So please, darling, mind the line

American Abortion

America, America
Do you feel free?
I’ll tell you what freedom means to me
Freedom is the choice to do what I want with my body

America, America
I know you can relate
You too have suffered
Violations of late

America, you know the trauma of violence
Violence like my childhood
I survived it the best that I could
It wasn’t easy, America

Loud explosions of anger
Showered down upon my head

Hidden within the deep silence of neglect
I wished that I was dead

America, that upbringing
Taught me just one thing;
How to feel afraid
Long after the violence ceases to sting

America, I am still too afraid to say ‘no’
You can imagine how this created problems as I started to grow
I knew only how to please                                                      

So I had unwanted sex
That lead to unwanted pregnancy
That’s how that goes
When you don’t have birth control

America, you gave me hope
When I received health insurance even though I was poor
Insurance that would have covered my whole pregnancy and the birth of my baby
Who could ask for anything more?

But America, I didn’t want to be pregnant or have a child
After all, my own life is still quite wild
It seems an ill choice to bring a baby into this world
When my own ability to make ends meet has yet to unfurl

I thought that since my health insurance would’ve covered the pregnancy
Asking it to pay for an abortion would be a relief
A relief for my body, my future and a relief for the insurance company
Because an abortion costs a tiny fraction of the price of having a baby, and at a much smaller health risk than childbirth, America

But my insurance refused to cover even one penny of the fee
and the ‘Powers That Be’ maliciously made me suffer through bureaucracy;         waiting and watching a ridiculous video that delayed for more than a week
the medical treatment of which I was in desperate need

America, have you ever been pregnant when you didn’t want to be?
Have you ever felt so exhausted that you were incapacitated from doing anything?
Have you ever been nauseous all day and all night?
Have you ever had your sense of smell so heightened that you felt suffocated by the stink of misogynistic bullshit?

America, I begged and scraped to pay for my abortion
The abortion was painful and bloody and rushed
Just another American day

America, I think we need to have a heart-to-heart talk
Abortion saved my life
Thanks to my abortion, I am now free
I am free from an abusive relationship
I am free from a pregnancy that I didn’t want to keep
I am free from having a baby when I wasn’t ready

America, how could I not feel hurt by your bias?
You would have given me full support if I kept my pregnancy,
yet no support at all when I chose to end it                                     This made me feel like you did not respect my life, my body or my autonomy
It put me in dire financial straits                                             For which I am still washing the dishes
But I’m grateful that the choice was mine to make

America, I too have a dream
That one day
Women will have abortion services
Covered by their health insurance
As much as any other reproductive health care
America, we can do better

America, I want every woman to have
The right to decide what she wants to do with her body
Women are more than baby-growing machines to be controlled by others
Women are people too
And we have something to tell you:

Keep abortion legal
Keep abortion safe
Let women choose what to do with their bodies
Let Freedom Ring

A Woman’s Rage

A Woman’s Rage

Nothing man-made
Can measure a woman’s rage
It is deeper than the ocean
And more powerful than a Tsunami
We often do not make a scene
When men are obscene
But we know when crimes are committed against us
We pay the price for men’s abuse
with our bodies, hearts, minds, and lives
How much trauma can one woman hold?
How many violations can fit into one woman’s lifetime?
I keep on hoping that this time will be the last time.
What is the answer?
We do not forgive nor do we forget
We just keep on keeping on
Because we have work to do
We are the dragon warriors
….
Yet part of me longs to demonstrate my rage for men
To erupt in a volcano of noise
To smash and crash and shout
I’m tired of small penises attached to over-inflated egos getting in my way
I want to rip off your dick and shove it down your throat until you choke
I want to break what you hold dearest over your head until you are dead
I want to shatter glass and shove the shards up your ass
I want to throw you off the planet and into outer space
So that you are frozen from your balls to your face
And drift forever, all alone

But that is what caused you to mistreat me in the first place
You were lonely and felt powerless over your desires
So you abused what little power you had
Demonstrating how small-minded and weak you are
I wish that you will soon self-evolve
So that you will stop hurting women
But until then, I’m just another victim
Of the countless crimes committed against women by men
All day, every day

But fuck that kind of talk, I don’t want to be your victim
I am strong, and you were wrong
To do what you did
You know what you did
Go burn in hell
Fuck you
I hope you die alone
After a miserable life
You took from me more than you will ever know

I want to slam doors
I want to break things
I want to scream
I want you to know how much you hurt me
I want you to feel my pain
I want you to take it back
I want your eyes to burn as these words ignite on the page
I want you to feel a woman’s rage