Posted in Gracie's Glimmer, Poetry From A Woman Who Thinks Too Much

Do it this different this time…

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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Posted in Jeanne Marie

It’s December

It’s December.
We start out searching for the perfect presents for our kids and we spend our lives trying to find them something they will love, so that we can hand it to them and watch their little faces light up.
Like the Cabbage Patch doll that was impossible to get,  but I got one and the Transformer that was not to be found, but I found one.
Presents that just for a minute, light up their eyes.
It’s December and there is not much time left to find the perfect presents.
I have so many presents, but they are spread all over my house and all tangled up in my mind, and they are not wrapped pretty.
I don’t know if I’ll have time to put on the ribbons and the bows before I leave.
I want to leave them self-confidence and emotional  security.
I want them to know that they were loved unconditionally by their mama.
I want them to be strong, without me.
I want them to keep all the good that I have given them in their hearts.
I want them to know that I was a person too…not just their mother.
I want them to forgive me…I know I made mistakes and I take responsibility for those mistakes.
I want them to forgive their own mistakes and not regret them every night, as I have done.
I want to leave them my boxes and boxes of  writing, all neatly edited and put together, but I don’t think that will ever happen because I write too much.
December has come so quickly.
I don’t know where the other 11 months went. One day I was 17 and now I’m 65.
One day, I had no wrinkles and suddenly they have appeared all over my face and neck, and I as look in the mirror, I say, “Wow, you are old, young lady. You may be young on the inside, but your body shows the time.”
My presents are not wrapped, but I will wrap what I can before I go, and I pray that it is enough to light up their faces when they remember me.
It’s December.
Posted in Gracie's Glimmer, Poetry From A Woman Who Thinks Too Much

Love Can Be

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 so high you did go!
Then in snuck the Oh no’s! How could you’s?
The you could a’s, The I would a’s, The I don’t know if I should a’s.
The same ‘ol I’m sorry’s, I’m not’s, I love you’s and I dont’s!
When you try to end it, all you can see is the good’s.
You cry too much and you scream, I won’t give up…
Oh NO, I wont! Wait! Maybe I should?
Love comes down, right down to the floor
to memories of passion
that don’t live ’round here anymore.
Alive only in your silly, girly head
and all of a sudden you’re not speaking
even though you still snuggle in bed.
Too many years you each play the games,
you play and you play till you’re half insane.
It comes to this is yours and this is mine time
don’t worry baby, my mama don’t hate you,
I will always love you’s and you will be fine’s.
Dr Seuss taught me about Green Eggs and Ham,
he never once, no, not ever, did he warn me
I’d have to let go of my love’s hand.
Love can be twisted, love can be cruel
Love can tear you to pieces and turn you into a fool.
Posted in Women Who Think to Much

Women Who Think Too Much, by Jeanne Marie in E-book again!

Now available in Ebook format at these locations!

Creator of the popular newsletter, “Women Who Think Too Much,” published from 1997 to 1998, Jeanne Marie has had ample experience in flipping over everyday actions to expose the dark underbelly.
Her fearsome narrative will draw you in long before she slaps you with her reality meter, turning your preconceived notions of her subtitles, A No Help At All Handbook and How to become codependent in 12 easy slips, upside down.
If you get confused as to where the heck the author is heading, you can end the suspense by reading Slap One first.
An accountable victim, her writing is vulnerable with an awareness that is empowering.
The result is not at all preachy, condescending, alarmist or worst of all, sappy.
You will find yourself laughing out loud regarding scenarios that should make you cry, like the circling ladies in Kmart, the perverted mailman, etc.
Written from personal experience and presented in the mood of an honest chat with a trusted girlfriend, this unique perspective on love gone awry is as entertaining as it is enlightening.
The author has a very sharp sense of humor and she lets it fly without losing the gravity of her subject.
Terrifying examples shine a revealing light on the painful truths of codependency.
Highly entertaining while touching you in raw spots that you didn’t even know you had, the only promise given is that you will never be able to unread this book.

DK, review 2013