Judgement
Weighed and measured
Welcome, and a warm first hello to the newcomers!
I’m so happy you’re here.
When this week’s card, Judgement, shows its face, it’s time to recognize that an old pattern has withered on the vine, and a new one has fruited in its place. The lesson here: fear of the unknown is not a good reason to deny the call of the wider world.
I have reckoned with judgement in many forms over the years, myself. This year, I will be returning to the AFSP Out of the Darkness Walk held every fall in Boston; last year, I was able to exceed my fundraising goal, and I hope to continue that tradition into 2024 as well.
I walk because I am a survivor, and because I never should have felt like I needed to hide how I was feeling in the first place. The more openly we discuss mental health, the more people we can catch before they go over the edge.
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Contents:
Coins
Jury Duty
Heat Wave
Housebound
Cheap Meat
Summer Vacation
Living Will
Snake Bun
Tuck Your Knees
Girlskin
Background music: “The Joy of Being Alive (Restart Remix)” by The Lizzy Co Show
Coins
One night, I ate all my pills on the couch,
The one with cheery yellow plaid cushions;
I couldn’t see any other way out,
And I had spent so many years pushing.
I counted carefully, swallowed them down;
Put on a movie, snuggled in pillows.
So late at night, nobody else around;
Just Charon, waiting for my coins, below.
The morning light traveled from the warm sun,
Straight through my living room window, after.
I woke, considered what I had just done;
I could not outrun myself, I’m faster.
So many pills, and still, I am alive.
There has to be a reason I survived.
Jury Duty
In 1987, my hometown
Sent my father a notice in the mail;
“It’s time for jury duty, come on down.
You’re not needed at home, don’t spin that tale.”
I was a newborn, fresh October girl;
My eyes had not yet turned from blue to green.
My mother thought she could be my whole world,
Better at cover-ups than coming clean.
The jury was sequestered for two weeks;
What happened back at home: we’ll never know.
I’m angry at my father for that time;
He should have told them that he couldn’t go.
The first two weeks of life, mostly alone;
The hospital sent me to a bad home.
Heat Wave
One Tuesday when the heat was dangerous,
911 went down all across my state.
(That’s how we get ambulances to us,
My friends who live in other countries’ gates.)
An alert popped up, bright, on my phone’s screen;
I wondered if it was a joke, at first.
I mean, it seems like something from movies,
Like we’re at the start of The-fucking-Purge.
We are so civilized on the surface;
We trust that things will be there as we reach.
The thought of need unmet makes my heart race;
I’m done learning the lessons lack will teach.
A childhood without resource was enough.
I cannot spend adulthood being tough.
Housebound
If you don’t know you’re agoraphobic,
It seems like being at home is the key
To healthy life and competent coping;
It’s hard to see the outside’s what you need.
If you don’t have the good information
To know that spending all your time at home
Is a pursuit that gives less than it takes,
You’ll find yourself almost always alone.
If you end up all locked away like me,
Counting the seconds until back inside
The comforting routine, then listen, please:
You will be safe if you choose not to hide.
One step out the door, and then another;
Breathe deep. There’s no need to run for cover.
Cheap Meat
My foremothers ate lobster and drank beer,
Before those things were marks of luxury.
The water wasn’t safe, shellfish was near,
And steak, reserved for people who had means.
The folks who made my bones lived in the cold;
Ten months out of the year, shoveling snow.
Too frigid to show feelings, don’t be bold;
“Girl, hide your face, frostbite will take your nose.”
(Did you know that frostnip exists as well?
I have to say, that living in a place
With two types of cold-burn really is hell;
I take care to avoid the winter’s flame.)
So yes, my mothers dined on lobster, true;
They bought cheap meat, did what they had to do.
Summer Vacation
I found myself on summer vacation,
Not by design, purely by accident.
The same day that I ditched my last bad gig,
I won a grant that helped me pay the rent.
Curious position, to leave a job
And realize a dream, all in the span
Of sunup to sundown; I just cannot
Believe the windfall that sits in my hands.
Each rejection over the years: a link,
And now my chic chain mail keeps me so safe.
Relief comes from not caring what folks think,
But: that requires some privilege, I’ll say.
So carefully, I sit inside my nest,
Preparing for whatever’s coming next.
Living Will
When I pass on, burn my bones into ash,
Then mix them into a pearlescent ink.
Use it to copy out my best passage,
The one that always makes you stop and think.
Fill up a book with me, write ‘til I’m gone;
Donate it to the library near you.
Someday, someone in need will come along
And what I have to say will see them through.
I want to be old when I become words,
I want my bones to witness the whole world.
I used to think: to live is so absurd,
But now, I can’t see how I was so bored.
So stoke the flames, and throw some sage in there;
Turn me into evidence of my care.
Snake Bun
She is so beautiful, but do not stare;
Your skin will change if her eyes gather yours.
You’ll become something altogether rare:
The evidence of a good woman’s force.
All médusé, you stand rooted to ground:
An acorn, firmly planted, learns to tree,
Then sheds thousands of children all around:
Folks who hold softness-of-heart as belief.
Her gimlet gaze is fixed on higher things,
This girl who gave herself and gained a crown;
If she cannot be protected by kings,
She’ll gather up an army of the town.
Snakes tied back in a bun, ready to roll.
Her benediction: so heavy to hold.
Tuck Your Knees
The rim of the bucket’s precarious.
Pull up your little crab-body, heave-ho!
“Don’t leave, sweet girl, come stay and be with us!
The crab-bucket’s the only world you know!”
Claws clack against corrugated metal:
A chorus, claiming those who would betray.
When opponents are in such fine fettle,
It’s true, escape will take the longest day.
Grip hard as you find purchase on the rim;
Pull up your feet, tuck your knees to your chest.
You’re not safe in the water if you swim:
It’s getting on the boat that’s the real test.
Scoot back and get a running start, then go!
Once you get up high, don’t look down below.
Girlskin
When you grow up somewhere that’s always cold,
Like way up north, in rural, green Vermont,
The places on your skin you choose to show
Become a choice, a show-off thing, a flaunt.
Back in the 90s, it meant: touch me, please.
A respectable girl would cover up.
Bare skin is up for grabs, or so to speak;
And if you don’t like what happens: well, tough.
When you grow up in yearlong wintertime,
So far away from people who can help,
Bare skin can be means to accessorize:
If you don’t cover up, you’ll get the belt.
Bearskin rugs, limp on floor: acceptable,
Girlskin was to be hidden. Too supple.
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All my best,
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You're an excellent writer Lizzy, thanks. I really enjoyed that.