Author: women who think too much

The Look Good Syndrome from my newsletter, WWTTM. 1996

From 1996

women who think too much's avatarWomen Who Think Too Much by Jeanne Marie

As we walked into Wal-Mart, I told my husband, “I’ll meet you up front when I’m through picking up what I need.”

He said, “Ya. Right.”

He always claims that he has to search the entire store five times before he can find me.

He thought today would be no different. Well, since it was Father’s Day, I decided to be considerate. I ran up and down the aisles (if you can run in Wal-Mart, the aisles are so narrow and the people so plentiful) throwing stuff into my little basket. I rushed up front to meet him. He wasn’t there yet! I smiled to myself, because I never did believe he spent that much time searching for me.

So, there I stood for ten minutes or so, watching people rush by. I had never paused for that long in Wal-Mart before. (Except at the register, where my eyes stay…

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She wears butterflies…

women who think too much's avatarWomen Who Think Too Much by Jeanne Marie

Yesterday, as I looked at my butterfly covered sun-dress, I realized…

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Love Blooms Here

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loveblooms3

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I Will Be Busy Today

women who think too much's avatarWomen Who Think Too Much by Jeanne Marie

Today I will get up out of bed and
I will tuck my pain inside a pretty box.
I will close the cover and I will leave my pain there.
Today I will thank God that I can move and that I can walk.
Today I will exercise my body and I will feed my soul.
Today I will enjoy the flowers in my delightful garden.
Today I will give thanks for all that I have gained and
I will send into the clouds the pain for all that I have lost.
Today I will give a piece of my time to someone else.
Today I will not say any negative
words to myself or to anyone else.
Today I will not acknowledge or take into my heart any
negative words that are spoken to me.
Today I will feel the earth beneath my feet, I will let the sun

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Volcano, 2013

We play, we laugh, we dance and we sleep
Poised on the volcano called our life together.
Pretending the molten lava is contained
Playing, laughing, dancing and sleeping.
Walking on broken bridges
Dancing over raging, red rivers
Ignoring hot, peeling blisters,
Smelling burnt flesh and grilled soul.
I love you, goodnight, I say.
I love you, goodnight, you say.
Closed eyes, throbbing hearts
Accepting lies as our truths.
Never knowing what the dawn may deliver
Perhaps a violent interruption as we sleep
Crying, shouting, poking unhealed wounds.
Salty tears drip onto the raw eruptions
As we dream on and on and on…
Snuggled together while miles apart
Atop the volcano called our life together.
I love you, good morning, I say.
I love you, good morning, you say.

Time’s Ravage

women who think too much's avatarWomen Who Think Too Much by Jeanne Marie

grace baby dannielle
Try to stop the
Hands of time,
Hold this moment
For it is mine.
Try to stop the
Silver in my hair,
Stop time’s ravage
Silent as a tear.
The fat that rests
Upon my thighs,
The damned mirror
With reflective lies.
Why don’t I feel
As old as my face?
Of the child inside
I see not a trace.
I cannot stop the
Hands of time,
With each day
Its damage I find.
But time cannot steal
The child inside
It shall not claim
The girl I hide.

by Jeanne Marie

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There Goes The Bride

women who think too much's avatarWomen Who Think Too Much by Jeanne Marie

1

Once upon a time women stayed at home. They took care of the kids and the house. Men went out to work, made money and supported their families. Then things began to change. The shift in power had been gradual, until the year 2025 and then change had advanced rapidly. Women had been essential in the work place for many years and the men just hadn’t noticed what was developing. Females became the stronger sex. They became more self-assured and with their newfound confidence, they grew powerful, assertive and aggressive. Yes, aggressive, just the way men had operated for centuries.
Now, a man was lucky to find a job that paid minimum age, if his wife would even let him go to work. Jake’s father had told him stories about how it used to be, stories that his Dad’s father had told to him, old husband’s tales about the way…

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Found, Not Lost

I slipped into living in the moment Saturday morning. I didn’t plan it and that’s how it happens best.
I bought flowers on Thursday afternoon. On Friday, it was freezing and windy, so I had to leave creating a patio garden around my little trailer for another day.
I picked a bouquet from the hibiscus and the roses, and I spent all day Friday taking pictures.
Saturday morning, when I woke, it was still cold. I peeked outside and I could feel the sun on my face, so I pulled on a warm shirt and long pants and I went outside with my coffee.
Then, I played with the flowers.
As I trimmed and repotted the plants, I fell into my old familiar rhythm.
I started gardening with my mum when I was a toddler and she generously passed on her green thumb to me and to my two sisters.
I didn’t save any gardening tools when I downsized to the trailer because I promised myself that I would never buy and fill up another house and yard only to leave them when I moved. (I have left over fifteen houses and fifteen gardens behind in my travels.)
I thought I could simply stop growing plants and flowers, but my longing for a garden said no.
Then, I remembered driving from New Hampshire to Oklahoma with a dozen plants in the back of my pickup truck. They not only survived; they had a growth spurt during the three-day trip.
The idea for a traveling, patio garden was born.
I bought three unique hibiscus plants, aloe, two stunning rose bushes, tulips, a philodendron, cyclamen and two plants just because they were pink. No, I don’t know their names. They waved hello to me and I scooped them up.
I also bought Jungle Growth soil, Black Cow manure, Miracle Grow plant food, organic bug spray, flowerpots, and gardening shears.
I didn’t think about a trowel; but I found out that with potted plants, a fork loosens the soil nicely.
Later, as I was cleaning the mess I had made, I realized that I had been totally in the moment, lost in what I was doing for over three hours.
I felt so relaxed and so happy. The euphoria lasted the rest of the day and I realized that I didn’t lose myself in the plants, I found myself.
Working with soil and nurturing flowers is as integral to who I am as writing and I pray that I never forget that again.

You Are The Magnet

every single strand
of my being
strains toward you
you are the magnet
I’m the metal
it’s nothing that I choose.
your words whisper to me
come mere baby
in the shadows of the night
our first kiss lingers
only to be haunted by
our last kiss, our last fight.

 

Valentine’s Day, Codependent Love



Flesh and Bones
Her hands make love to his shoulders
Caress the tension from his neck
Fingers entwined in his soft curls
Her face buried in silver and brown strands.
Inhaling the heady scent that is him
She allows her tightness to slip away
Falling, falling into a dark warm mist
A vapor of safety created by his love.
Absence of pain, regret, loss or sorrow
Blankets of tenderness and devotion
Washed worn by life’s bleaching storms
More precious than diamonds and gold.
His devotion surrounds her flesh and her bones.
Thus, sleep is a cocoon which shelters her
Pillows of passions released time after time
Cradle the woman and her fragile dreams
Rocking her to sleep in his gently flowing river
Drifting on billows of unconditional love.
Floating to euphoria, wrapped around his back
She wonders, how is it possible that her love
Could increase beyond description, young and free
When time has removed the freedoms of flesh and bone?
She loves him beyond explanation, a rare dilemma
For a woman who was born to dance with words.
She loves, she loves and as his love enfolds her, she is sheltered.
She sleeps and she is secure because he is there beside her.

Your Love Is Raw
I thought my love was true…so why do I always fantasize
about leaving us behind, running away from me loving you?
Your love is raw, it is bloody, it is deep.
Your warm, obsessive blanket covers my eyes, my empty girly head,
shielding me, protecting me at night, yet not heavy enough to let me sleep.
Lying wide-eyed in our king-size bed, the buried fights numb my head.
Your love, my shroud, my bad, my dead.
You call me to your side each night, honey, come to sleep.
Not unlike a small child, I run to you and snuggle under my pink blanket
on my corner of the mattress awake in the dark long after you snore.
Into the dawn I weep, tears leaving their dirty marks.
The weight of your need to possess me and my need for you cements my life.
It this all I’ll ever feel, is this all I’ll ever be, your woman, your girl, your wife?
Your need is soft, it is strong, it is rough, it is binding, it is smothering, it is fluff.
Your need has taken over my life which doesn’t even make any sense.
Becoming nothing, wanting something, I sit and scour my mind, trying to find myself.
Can I take care of me, this woman, this girl who will not speak?
Standing on the outside, looking through the tinted glass of our storm door.
I don’t want to come inside. Oh yes, I am sure.
Am I running from us because of our today or am I running from our pain-filled past?
I don’t know anymore.
No place left to hide.
Your love surrounds me, it saves me, until it drowns me.
Your love is raw, it is bloody, it is deep.

I Love You
I love you does not mean that I will accept
your unacceptable behavior.
I love you does not mean that I will allow
you to hurt me emotionally whenever you choose.
I love you does not mean that I will let
you crush my spirit and wound my soul.
I love you does not mean that I will let you tell me
who I am or control my decisions.
I love you does not mean that I will allow you to hurt people I love.
I love you does not mean that I will not walk away from you,
if you do those things.
I have learned through God’s grace, that I can live without you,
but I cannot live without me.

Fuhgedia

women who think too much's avatarWomen Who Think Too Much by Jeanne Marie

fmn
I have the beginning stages of Fuhgedia or as its also called on the street, Fuhgeddaboudit.
It’s a very peculiar illness and quite common in codependent women.
We go through life blocking out our daily experiences and feelings so well that we start to fuhged who we are and what we are doing, who you are and if you are related to us.
We don’t remember who we were before someone told us who we needed to be, what the desires of our heart really are and how we would like to wear our hair.
So you might have to tell me things more than once…things like the day my newest great-grand baby is due, your birthday, my birthday, what day of the week it is…stuff like that.
Otherwise, I’ll just fuhged about it.

Jeanne Marie, 2016

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Love Can Be Twisted

women who think too much's avatarWomen Who Think Too Much by Jeanne Marie

Love can be twisted, love can be cruel.
Love can tear you to pieces and turn you into a fool.
Love can grow wings and fly you to the moon
then it can take you to hell and whoops!
Here you go! A flight to the stars,
crashing back down, way too soon!
Love will take you everywhere
oh that silly love, it will take you so far!
Love will take you to places
where you don’t even remember who you are!
What drew you together, you might never know
were you just like his mother
or was it your smile that once
sparkled like sun, your glitter and bows?
You grabbed each other’s hands
and you said Yes! Yes! I do and I do!
Love codependent was playing a game
turning your smarts inside out, flipping
your brain to mush, all sticky, icky and goo.
Up, up and up, oh…

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My Funny Valentine

My baby girl, last year.

thinkingpinkx2's avatarthinkingpinkx2

Ms. Skeeter

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it’s life’s illusions…

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Petals

women who think too much's avatarWomen Who Think Too Much by Jeanne Marie

IMAG4696

Proud and bright
 you hang.
 Petals, firm and strong.
 Then, one by one,
 damaged petals
 start to fall.
 One by one,
 till blooms
 form a mountain
 of red petals on
 the cement floor.
 Petals fall
 as lovers argue
 destroyed by
 neglect and time
 until love’s light
 goes out
 and velvet petals
 wither on the floor
 as quietly, they die.
 A little water
 a little kiss
 a smile, a hug.
 Nope, didn’t happen.
 So one plus one
 who once were two,
 are now alone.
 Each too proud
 to clean the mess
 or to pick up
 the phone.
Petals fall,
one by one
by two.

by Jeanne Marie

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Pink Petals

Pink petals
pouring down
her body like rain.
Pink petals heal her
soul, washing away the
grime and bloody stains.

Broken

Broken a thousand times and each time
God glues the pieces back together.
Each experience creates a different person.
Sometimes a better person
sometimes just a person
filled with nicks and cracks and rough edges.
Sometimes I’m not sure I’ll even heal.
I don’t want that anymore.
I don’t want to be broken over and over again.
I don’t want to be shattered.
I want to be whole.
I have learned to live with the cracks,
but there comes a time
when you just can’t allow
yourself to be broken again.
Lord, let this be my last time broken.

What Sort Of Woman?

women who think too much's avatarWomen Who Think Too Much by Jeanne Marie

CIMG2844
Eighteen hundred miles from here there’s a place that she calls home, but it isn’t.
She left it behind long ago, this gypsy’s child who could not deny her urge to roam.
On the distant shore she still calls home there’s ocean air she longs to breathe…
the endless blue she aches to see, winds that howl all the way to her heart,
”Come home to me.”
When her longing for the ocean overwhelms her senses, she goes.
Sand castles that take so long to build; yet, never meant to last.
Waves that crash ice cold, slap against her legs, deliver burning blows, sting away her past.
As she tries to absorb the ocean through her skin the surf takes her pain and
batters it away, beats it senseless against her shins cleansing the memories from her head.
The salt in the air, the sun on her face must go…

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When Angels Whisper (2)

Pick her up. I’m done and I mean it.

NO! No, we can’t give up on her yet! We have never given up on anyone. She’ll be the first and I hope you ran this by Him because He doesn’t give up on anyone. Let me try. Please. Don’t give up on her. That will turn out bad.

You’re not in charge. I am. And you? You’re still in training.

You have nothing to lose. You’re facing your first failure. Why not let me try?

What can you do that I haven’t already done? This woman slides back down every time she climbs up. If she could have learned her lesson, she would have learned by now and I believe she is hopeless. Her fear wins, over and over and over. She has me suicidal and I’m an angel.

This woman could earn me my wings and save you from your first surrender.
Besides, He said no one is so far down that He can’t reach them, and He expects us to feel the same way, to conduct ourselves to reflect His truth. You’re exhausted. Don’t make a fatal decision out of frustration. Let me try. I hate to think where you’ll be assigned if you give up.

I suppose you’re right. I’m so tired and my wings are feeling heavy. I’ll give you one chance, but if she doesn’t show improvement, I’m done, and my last assignment will be to send you back to start your training all over again.

Deal! You won’t regret this, I promise. Want to brush wings?

Don’t push your luck.

When Angels Whisper (1)
When Angels Whisper…

Dandelion Wishes

women who think too much's avatarWomen Who Think Too Much by Jeanne Marie


Along our travels, we made a pit stop for food and I walked outside to get some fresh air. I found a field of dandelions gone to fluff and I picked a bouquet.
I spun around and around in my butterfly covered sun dress and let the fluff cover me as I made wishes.
I could feel the magic surround me.
The magic didn’t come from the dandelion fluff, it came from believing in dandelion wishes.
I’ll never forget that moment.
I tucked it in my heart to save for a rainy day…

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The Head Exam

women who think too much's avatarWomen Who Think Too Much by Jeanne Marie

Last night I examined my husband’s head. He put his finger on his head and said, “What is this?”
“It is your head,” I replied.
“No, no, what is this bump?”
I have had no medical training and do not possess any particular medical skills, but I felt more than qualified to examine his head because I have been rubbing his head while he falls asleep for 30 years.
Hmmmmm. My first diagnosis was that it was a bug bite. Or maybe an allergy to shampoo. Maybe a spider bite. Hmmmmmm. Wait a minute. Another spot.
“Two spots. This is serious now,” I said. “I think you have been in the sun way too much and this may be skin cancer.”
I described the bumps to him.
“They are raised and looked healed, but they are red. Could be eczema or maybe lesions. Maybe it’s those worm bugs that get…

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Do it this different this time…

women who think too much's avatarWomen Who Think Too Much by Jeanne Marie

Do it this different this time.
Don’t do the same thing.
Please, I’m begging you.
You get the same results every time.
A crushed spirit and a broken heart.
Do it different this time.
Don’t let him charm you.
Don’t let his voice soothe you.
Don’t pretend that his arms are safe..
He’s not safe for you.
Trust your instincts.
Do it different this time.
Don’t fall under his magical spell when he whispers, I love you.
Yes it’s true.
Not safe, but true.
Learn to take care of yourself.
Do it different this time.

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Codependency

women who think too much's avatarWomen Who Think Too Much by Jeanne Marie

20140318_182456
Codependency

Loved you until I was drained, empty
nothing left of the love as I recall,
refuse to lose my mind, so it is over
bruised brain won’t survive another fall.

Driven quite mad, aching for your touch
spirit crushed by your negative weight
splintering my weakened, damaged bones.
Set free? Set free? Shit, it is too late.

Too late to be an innocent little girl
too late to chase the passions of 17
too late to write that frigging book
but all my floors are sparkling clean.

My womb has left, cut from my body
so, too late to be a better mother
loved ones from my hands I dropped
always ran, hid beneath the covers.

Some other day, some other love
some other life, any but my own
thought I had time to find happy
old came first, please leave me alone.

Hopes shattered and then returned
laid…

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Your Love


Your love smothers me
Your love covers me
Shivers me to the bone.
Your love absorbs me
Your love confuses me
Until I beg to be left alone.

Hollow


There are no coherent words inside my head
Only jumbled thoughts I cannot understand
Feelings have been frozen and numbness reigns
No decisions can be made
No ideas brought to life
Just a hollow empty space
Where emotions used to live.