(Written 14th March 2021)

I was lying in bed

Struggling to get up

This overwhelming feeling

My heart is shut

Anxiety has gripped me

Badly this week

Poetry has been hiding

Refusing to speak

Most days I struggle

To even meditate

I’ve cried so much

It’s hard to regulate

So, I crawl back into bed

I let the tears flow

Secretly screaming:

“Anxiety will you go!!”.

I long sometimes

For my supply teaching bliss

My anxiety at a minimum

(It was so lovely to miss!)

As I lie in bed

So stuck in my head

I started thinking about

My inner child instead

The one who wants

To hideaway; not be seen

Keep her anxiety hidden

But really wants to scream

“I’m drowning, I can’t breathe!

I’m stuck inside me!

This really is the loneliest

Place to ever be

I feel completely damaged

Like I don’t even exist

The world looks petrifying

Do I have to persist?

Will this hole in my heart

Ever heal or go away?

My secret fear is it’s

Here to stay!

Maybe I’ll never have

The experience of being a mum

Perhaps I’ll always

be stuck on this broken song?”

So, this morning I just listened

I allowed her to cry

I didn’t push her away

Her feelings deny

I didn’t tell it her man up

or get a fucking grip

I lay in bed, and let

‘Morgan’ finish her trip

Yes, I gave her a name

She needed a voice

This inner child part

Who feels so lacking in choice

The meaning of her name

“Sea circle; Phantom Queen”

That part that is drowning

Ever so slowly

Void of attachment

All she feels is smothered

Triggered by feelings

She had with her mother

“I can’t save you

Or make you happy

It’s not my job!

Carrying your sadness and disappointment

Is just too hard!”

Like a phantom

She doesn’t feel like she exists

Desperately seeking out

What she feels she missed

Her arms open wide

Just wanting to be saved

Love me

Need me

Please don’t walk away

 Every time I start a new relationship

Morgan turns up

For her the ‘Honeymoon Phase”

Is quite simply kuck

She manifests as this pressure

This ache in my chest

That feels like its sucking out

All of my breath

So, I usually end the relationship

(I literally can’t go on)

When Morgan is driving

Nothing fruitful is done

The irony: that ‘thing’

She so desperately desires

The exact same ‘thing’ that makes

Her run like wildfire

Now single for three years

(It’s much easier that way)

I have managed to keep

Her anxiety at bay…

But NO, apparently not

It seems clear to me

Morgan is sick and tired

Of her invisibility

Now she turns up

Connected to the grief I feel

about not having a child

And never being healed

She clings so sadly

To this misguided, false belief

That having a child will heal her

It’ll be the missing piece

I often feel so exasperated

So unbelievably irked

“Why has nothing I’ve done for you

EVER seemed to have worked?”

As she clings to me

pulling me

Down to her world

This lost, damaged

Sad little girl

But then I got thinking

How she’s a part of me

Perhaps all she needs

Is simply to be seen?

Maybe rather than trying

To permanently ‘fix’ her

All I needed was to sit still

And let her be heard

But Morgan’s not alone

So many subconscious parts of me

Making up an entire family

Within my psyche

Last year was crazy

So much time on my hands

 I decided to use it

To better understand….

What goes on inside

The craziness of my head?

To step away from inner judgment

Allow acceptance to be bred

So, I spent a whole month

scrutinizing my many parts

Giving them all names

And a space in my heart

I realized that they all

React in different ways

Some easily triggered

While others are less swayed

But I also know this

That they all played different roles

A misguided attempt

To keep me feeling whole

So, I hope you won’t mind

Just staying with me

While I put them on paper

So that they can be seen

Let’s start with ‘Neurotic Angel’

She’s a real trip

The most amazingly consistent

Negative inner critic

“Be the good girl

Do the right thing”

“Worry about absolutely everything”

She is all about image

The face people see

Her job is to protect

The vulnerable parts of me

“OH my GOD don’t do that!

Who do you think you are?”

“Seriously NO!

Now you have gone too far!”

Her voice is relentless

She never lets up

She reminds me daily

That I’m never enough

And then there is ‘Lyssa’

(Meaning: uncontrollable rage)

Not really someone

With whom you’d want to engage

She’s 100% reactant

She has no self-control

Like a 5-year-old child

She blindly defends my soul

When I think of Lyssa

Rational doesn’t come to mind

But it’s important to me

That she is not maligned

She reacts like the angry child

Who never felt seen

But she is never vindictive

Or consciously mean

But that cannot be said

For ‘Mara-Keres’

Who takes over at 13

And will fuck with my head

She is the God of destruction

Bitter and mean

(So basically perhaps

a typical angry teen?)

She learnt to build walls

To protect my heart

She gave me a voice

But uses words like darts

Anger and judgement

Are the core of her stitch

(Frankly at times

She can be a real bitch!)

Interestingly I notice

A couple of years ago

When I get drunk it’s Mara-Keres

That starts running the show

She is ballsy and confident

She doesnt give a fuck

If you get on her bad side

That’s just your bad luck

Let’s face it there are many

Real dicks in this world

And a night on the town

Is when her defences unfurl

So, I cut out her drug

Which was alcohol

A decisive move

To limit her control

“Galen” my internal mother

Is peaceful and calm

She is eager to love

And would never do harm

She embraces all my parts

When they misbehave

She strongly believes

They don’t need to be saved

Galen so easily

Connects to source

She’s way more enlightened

When it comes to my life course

She is not easily upset

She is emotionally tough

Galen is my container

She always feels enough.

‘Karis’ means ‘love’

‘Grace’ and ‘Kind.’

She is also quite young

Her love is blind

She is happy, open-hearted

generous to a fault

(No awareness that she should

guard her heart like a vault)

So, at times her naivety

Means she opens the door

 To people that will hurt her

And leave her a bit raw

It is dear Karis that so often

Allows the narcissists in

She only sees their goodness

And focuses on them

But her role is pivotal…

She helps me forgive and forget

It’s impossible for Karis

To hang on to emotional debt

‘Lyla’ and ‘Lola’

my abandoned children of shame…

Lyla the baby

Who feels powerless to change

She feels needy, scared

And totally unseen

She longs for connection

(She is far from serene.)

She too has a role

When she intercedes

She constantly reminds me

To look after my needs

‘Lola’ my little child

of many sorrows

Given the choice

she’ll hide until tomorrow

All she ever feels is abandoned

So very alone

Which causes her to isolate

Her ownself to disown.

It feels impossible

for Lola to hold onto the truth

That people genuinely care

And that her friends are true

It was Lola who smoked

For 20-odd years

Her way of blocking my anxiety

To stem all the tears

Lola hides me away

When my soul feels hurt

Her prime purpose is simply

More hurt to divert

And then lovely ‘Roxy’

The Apple of my eye

Who oozes confidence and inspiration

In a steady supply

Roxy is gregarious

Outgoing and lots of fun

(She started me pole dancing

When I was 41)

She is young at heart

And refuses to see her age

Life for her

Is like a beautiful stage

She flitters and flutters

From one thing to the next

Like a colourful butterfly

She just cannot rest

So much choice in this world

So many things to try

Why on earth settle on one

One until you die?

It was Roxy who wanted

To start modeling at 44.

(Her defiant way of denying

The wrinkles she saw)

Roxy is love like Karis

With a little Mara-Keres in the bag

But she loves more carefully

And is conscious of red flags

Roxy is brave

She ALWAYS finds her voice

Butt watches her words carefully

She’s mindful of her choice

Roxy will easily

Put shitty men in their place

She somehow does it with more

Kindness and grace

A built-in bullshit detector

Warns her things are gainsay

 “Not your problem!

Not your issue!

Just walk away!”

So, there you go

All the (now conscious) parts of me

Laid out bare for all

And sundry to see

Sometimes I feel schizophrenic

when I write

Courageous one day

Then the next filled with fright

Or I can’t get the words out

I’m so stuck in my head

I am bold and outspoken

I stand strong in my stead

I used to believe Roxy

Aas the one I wanted to be

(If only I could eradicate

these lesser parts of me)

But I’m 45 years old

And I’m finally done

Shaming certain parts

While favouring one

So much healing and acceptance

Has started to unfold

As I‘ve started bringing my parts

In- out from the cold

As I practise simply

Holding the space

Feeling all of my emotions

Anger and sadness are embraced

By simply allowing my family

Of parts to breathe

I think I’m slowly starting

To make peace with me