Oh goodness - I am all too familiar with the weight of the Big Sads as I not-so-lovingly call them. I love this poem so much. I long ago learned that I need to cheer myself on for every small thing during these times and this is beautiful reminder of that. Thank you.
My address book was once my journal which morphed into a collection of envelopes and half scribbled destinations, but I've kept the first page as a reminder to make that small step, to get that milk. It reads "Today I bought batteries and light bulbs. The cashier looked at me and I could see she saw my sadness but I weakly smiled at her, hoping to reassure her that batteries and lightbulbs were items of continuation. I'm still here."
This is so beautiful, and so many lines ring true for me, when I've been in ruts of my own. Finding whatever is needed inside to finally let the feelings pour themselves out as poetry can be so very healing. Thank you so much for gifting us with your words today.
Thanks, Mike. I really appreciate you reading and responding. My roots are deep in New England and we're not big sharers of feelings. It's not always easy to hit "Post" on this stuff. It's good to hear from people who recognize where I've been.
"It actually started with the title. A whole page in a notebook with just that phrase written at the top and nothing else. It sat like that for years. I came back to it one day, still a couple of years before today, and scratched down a few lines, then a few more. I dusted it off last week when something difficult happened and I felt myself pulling back from day to day things"
Been here more times than I can count. Start with a great title and then leave it alone for a while because the sudden flash of inspiration I get for the title doesn't extend to an actual poem. So I'm just stuck and afraid the actual meat of the piece won't justify a title I've become so married to because the inspiration felt so cathartic and I'm just waiting to catch lightning in a bottle. Frustrating as all heck.
Oh, good, it’s not just me! But I’m kind of enjoying lately when I actually create something from one of these years old scribbles. All that waiting finally pays off, like a poetic wine cellar. Thank you so much for reading and taking the time to write. It means a lot.
Daniel and Tara, I do this too! In fact, my Substack "drafts" page is littered with them. "Great" ideas waiting for inspiration that will fill them out into the full poems or posts that I know they are meant to be. And I also have little scribbled notes in the margins of my journals going way back, and I do go back to look there for inspiration as well.
Tara, I love this poem for the painful familiarity of it. You've captured it very well.
I have struggled with depression since my early teens and I know well that sense of having to really gather yourself to go grocery shopping, then just to get yourself out of the car and into the store.
Thank you for taking a chance on sharing this. It helps me feel less alone.
Thank you so much, Erika, for reading and engaging. I'm so glad this poem felt true for you. And that it made you feel less alone is about the best, kindest compliment I can imagine.
A great idea on just putting notes and ideas in the substack drafts, I've started to do that with pieces that I haven't started to edit, just to get the 'get something on a page' part out of the way. I keep my notes and quotes in OneNote and just browse over them every once and a while just to chase away the threat of writer's block. Glad I'm not alone in that.
"Sometimes it's a little thing that calls us back to ourselves. This week, for me, it was poetry."
I look forward to your posts every week, Tara! (Even if sometimes it takes me more than a week to work through my Substack inbox! 😆) There's always something here I connect with.
Lately I've been feeling like I am just not keeping up with everything I want to read. And sometimes I think, oh I'll comment later when I have time to really write something that does justice to my response to what I've read. And then it's three days later and I haven't done it. Aargh! I'm glad you liked this one, whenever you got around to reading it!
The first two lines resonated with me -- the idea that when one mopes about feeling unmotivated and lethargic, that it's spurred along by a sense of playing out a somehow tragic, somehow noble mode of existence. That's poignant; self-deprecating, yes -- but moving nonetheless!
Oh goodness - I am all too familiar with the weight of the Big Sads as I not-so-lovingly call them. I love this poem so much. I long ago learned that I need to cheer myself on for every small thing during these times and this is beautiful reminder of that. Thank you.
My address book was once my journal which morphed into a collection of envelopes and half scribbled destinations, but I've kept the first page as a reminder to make that small step, to get that milk. It reads "Today I bought batteries and light bulbs. The cashier looked at me and I could see she saw my sadness but I weakly smiled at her, hoping to reassure her that batteries and lightbulbs were items of continuation. I'm still here."
I so appreciate this comment. It's those little talismans, right? The nail polish, the note about lightbulbs. Some times we are our own medicine. 💙
This is so beautiful, and so many lines ring true for me, when I've been in ruts of my own. Finding whatever is needed inside to finally let the feelings pour themselves out as poetry can be so very healing. Thank you so much for gifting us with your words today.
My favorite part?
"so it will not fall through the slots.
So I will not fall through the slots."
Thanks, Mike. I really appreciate you reading and responding. My roots are deep in New England and we're not big sharers of feelings. It's not always easy to hit "Post" on this stuff. It's good to hear from people who recognize where I've been.
"It actually started with the title. A whole page in a notebook with just that phrase written at the top and nothing else. It sat like that for years. I came back to it one day, still a couple of years before today, and scratched down a few lines, then a few more. I dusted it off last week when something difficult happened and I felt myself pulling back from day to day things"
Been here more times than I can count. Start with a great title and then leave it alone for a while because the sudden flash of inspiration I get for the title doesn't extend to an actual poem. So I'm just stuck and afraid the actual meat of the piece won't justify a title I've become so married to because the inspiration felt so cathartic and I'm just waiting to catch lightning in a bottle. Frustrating as all heck.
Oh, good, it’s not just me! But I’m kind of enjoying lately when I actually create something from one of these years old scribbles. All that waiting finally pays off, like a poetic wine cellar. Thank you so much for reading and taking the time to write. It means a lot.
Daniel and Tara, I do this too! In fact, my Substack "drafts" page is littered with them. "Great" ideas waiting for inspiration that will fill them out into the full poems or posts that I know they are meant to be. And I also have little scribbled notes in the margins of my journals going way back, and I do go back to look there for inspiration as well.
Tara, I love this poem for the painful familiarity of it. You've captured it very well.
I have struggled with depression since my early teens and I know well that sense of having to really gather yourself to go grocery shopping, then just to get yourself out of the car and into the store.
Thank you for taking a chance on sharing this. It helps me feel less alone.
Thank you so much, Erika, for reading and engaging. I'm so glad this poem felt true for you. And that it made you feel less alone is about the best, kindest compliment I can imagine.
A great idea on just putting notes and ideas in the substack drafts, I've started to do that with pieces that I haven't started to edit, just to get the 'get something on a page' part out of the way. I keep my notes and quotes in OneNote and just browse over them every once and a while just to chase away the threat of writer's block. Glad I'm not alone in that.
"I have always suspected that those tiny bottles
hold magic inside, an anodyne, a curative," is something I feel, too.
And "so it will not fall through the slots. So I will not fall through the slots" is a beautifully painted on-the-edge-of-slipping idea.
I adore this!! I also completely get it, having been there!!
Thanks for reading, Lisa. I’m so glad this rang true for you.
"Sometimes it's a little thing that calls us back to ourselves. This week, for me, it was poetry."
I look forward to your posts every week, Tara! (Even if sometimes it takes me more than a week to work through my Substack inbox! 😆) There's always something here I connect with.
Lately I've been feeling like I am just not keeping up with everything I want to read. And sometimes I think, oh I'll comment later when I have time to really write something that does justice to my response to what I've read. And then it's three days later and I haven't done it. Aargh! I'm glad you liked this one, whenever you got around to reading it!
I do the same thing! I've literally had this item on my to-do list before: "Comment on Tara's post." 🤣 I'm sure we're not the only ones.
The first two lines resonated with me -- the idea that when one mopes about feeling unmotivated and lethargic, that it's spurred along by a sense of playing out a somehow tragic, somehow noble mode of existence. That's poignant; self-deprecating, yes -- but moving nonetheless!