A Piece of Mind

During these days of the month I tend to be an observer.  Not that it helps on my daily life. It’s just that there is no other choice, either I do that and sit or stumble on anything, or become dizzy and fall. It’s just those type of days. I give a big praise to the doctors and nurses and anybody that has to deal with blood on a daily basis. I can’t even fathom the idea of smell of blood from my own body, much less from other people. I guess it gets stronger as my age advances.

On these days, I’m so happy that I was able to give birth to boys only. They won’t have to deal with this mess during all their life. Well they might get to deal with their spouse’s period cycles, but at least they won’t have to deal with the change of emotions, the hammering on the head, the pulling and itching of your breasts, the swelling and almost bursting of your fingertips, the tachycardia, the feeling of an infection in your most private part, the extra feeling of smell and hearing… Oh, and to top it off with the constant nausea and colic before and during those days. Now some women have it easy, they literally bleed for 3 to 5 days. But not me, no Sr. it has to be from 8 to 14 days.

So yes, it’s not justa a single itty bitty thing, it’s a conjunction of things that leaves no room to be happy, much less enjoy an active life during these days.

Hence, I do as much as I can before these days, since I know that during these days I will be like a lazy animal. In fact, I have instructed my kids on what to do during these days if by any chance I pass out in a dangerous place. The eight year old knows that he needs to call his dad first, and if it’s necessary, after calling his dad, he needs to call 911. The 5-year-old knows that he needs to take care of his 3-year-old little brother, you know, not getting things that might harm them or things like that. The 8-year-old is in charge, so he needs to take care of his 2 little brothers. Unless that his dad, grandma or aunt comes and pick them up they can’t go with anybody else. Otherwise call immediately to his dad, or his aunt and follow instructions from them.

I know it’s a big responsibility for an 8-year-old, but unfortunately life doesn’t give us a heads up. It just comes and gets what it wants when one least expects it and boy if I know.  If it weren’t for my sister’s information when we were in an accident several years ago. I don’t know how much time longer would we be in the hospital without a family member; and she was only 9. (Just in case, if anyone is interested I wrote about that accident a while back. It’s called “Angel with a gum.”)

Since I know that  this happens to me every month, I am in a way training them like how the schools do a fire drill. Is best to let them know ahead of time, than for them to panic and god knows what might happen. Wouldn’t you agree?

Strand

There was no God
To be spoken to…

Broken

No miracle
No magic casted…

Broken

Just one strand
That one freaking strand
I hung to…

Clung

No matter how beaten…

Desperately

No matter how deep into soil…

Brazenly

Even when crumbled…

I clung

Clung to that
one shining strand…

And I

Depended of
That one and only…

Sanity

Today is a broken day…

Faith

Yet tomorrow will be
another page…

Yes

This one insignificant strand…

Sanity combined with faith.

Shadows

Shadows of my past
Biggest fears to surpass
The spiders from those dreams
Of toys and dolls
Arranged on my bed
Thus the lonely night
Sitting on the street.

La mano pachona
As well as la llorona
They seem to be lurking
Crawling, manifesting on my skin.

The abandonment from the embrace
From the extra gifts
In contrast to the child’s needs.
To the whispers of the crowd
Emphasizing arrows to its prey.

Afraid of the masked monsters
And their invisible claws
Of their unsolicited touchy feeling
Hiding behind a smile
And submissive with no flaws
Yet predators ready to pounce
When there’s a chance.

Yes, afraid of the two-faced
Of the blinded eyed
Of the slip tongued
Of the coldness in their heart.

Such darkness in the light
Childish it seems
But the scars
Are hard to heal.
Afraid
I still feel.

*prompt from HOWLS FROM EL MONTE weekly prompts