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I don't know exactly what happens when I lose contact with time, the flow of time. I feel out of focus, disconnected. What have I done? I don't know. No, that's not true. What I have done is taken a deep dive into reading/listening to books. I guess it's been, what, 3 weeks ago? I started checking books out of the library again. I reread Then She Was Gone (best narrator ever!) and The Girl on the Train. I also bought…

I read something today, a woman speaking of writing about her days, and if she didn't write about them, she'd begin to feel as though they weren't really happening. I think perhaps I am the opposite. I have been so busy, so satisfyingly busy, emersed. but really, is that true? It is more true to say that we have had an insane amount of shit going down, but that I am happy. content. I have a sense of wellbeing. even when…

friday i got into my swimsuit and got into the water. it was of course, glorious. i intend to get into the water again. this is my local public pool. it is free, indoors, and super clean, but the locker room is a little creepy. when you get out of the shower (there are only 2), anybody who just walks in can see you in all your glory. so i either need a small robe (bulky!), or will have to use…

one day while fishing for the cauliflower i found the baby i had forgotten it, tucked safe in the freezer my little mummy, little mommy's boy one blue eye frozen open... (contact me to hear the rest of poem--rebeccacookwriter@gmail.com)

the evil eye of the daisy 2 pregnancy test and the rise in my center the pressing outward of tiny, unseen hands this child will lift me we will float on the pool of clear water in god's chest we will hold our noses and dive under I will take the child and press its face down and down to the floor of my body and hold it there and stop what happened before before it begins before that desire of…

because my dream of the shower house don't ask me their hands are too small their eyes will not open they are sealed-up shut a purring sound is furring up the edges of the photograph where fifteen pairs of shoes are toed-to-the-line Margaret and Mary Ann whistling just like the boys oh! how starched our undercarriages, how immovable our curls, oh! our bastillion brassieres. someone hurls a pair of batons going brilliant going bang blistering the night air those of us…

shrinking up, aka i would give up my singing voice for a cig the absurd shoe in the absurd room the absurd effort of cheer my angry foot, my swollen calf, it’s a long way to fetch him from his moldering place, his such-a-small room in such-a walled in house. i am a scurrying mouse, arranging the cake, the candles, small plates of sandwiches, fishing through the ancient drawers in my father’s house while my brother sits silent in his chair.…

the miscarriage and what came after the baby fell out so I put it back in to grow it to size to correct the stitches I dropped I put in another sleeve I lined fifty-five buttons up the... (contact me to hear the rest of poem--rebeccacookwriter@gmail.com)

the abortion and the book of rules, aka why a fish was never a baby I thought I’d keep the abortion in a cup, a jar with holes poked in the lid so the moon shines through at night, so the thing will turn to a fish and... (contact me to hear the rest of poem--rebeccacookwriter@gmail.com)

because my little pony tempered the earth what's the face of this broken heart, its dreary, melting face. hey, ma, you look sad, hey, ma, you should try friendship love, and generosity. what's the face of a mother erased... (contact me to hear the rest of poem--rebeccacookwriter@gmail.com)

These Rivers Endlessly Endlessly Then I will swim the dreaming of my house, the well-mannered happenings of my house, the slip noose hanging from the frame of my house I will dream the bright waters of my house gathering in the broken heart of my house. For it will be the bear-claw quilt that... (contact me to hear the rest of poem--rebeccacookwriter@gmail.com)

because not even god I have put together the ankle to the hand pulled the body down into the arch of the foot secured the instep to the baby’s nose look, ma— it’s an inverted swing set it’s a solid acre of... (contact me to hear the rest of poem--rebeccacookwriter@gmail.com)

and for his head a sapphire crown They took him up in a net of jewels. Like a chandelier rising to the ceiling they incrusted him with light and lifted his body... (contact me to hear the rest of poem--rebeccacookwriter@gmail.com)

verses composed outside Nineveh under a fig tree wither the tree, the stubborn root choking the heart. blister us with the noonday sun we will not yield we will not go into the city. we will not god, we will not the promise of angels. we teeter on the head of the pin-- the windmill arms, the whoa! whoa! whoa! the long way down.

It's Monday morning. James has his heart cath tomorrow morning. Am I nervous? I think so. Highly irritable? Yes. Grumpy? Probably. I always thought these were symptoms of hypomania, and perhaps they are. But now that I'm in the DBT program, I realize they are also related to how I am treating myself overall. Not just too little sleep/poor diet/no exercise. No, it's more than this. There is mindfulness. Moving from moment to moment engaged. And there are skillful means. Using…

Today I did The Daily Calm and The Daily Move. This is my second day with no sugar. Well, the beginning of it. I feel better, not physically; it will take time for me to notice body changes. No, I feel better because I am not plagued with the thoughts of it. Enough said on that. Today I have my individual counseling session. I look forward to it. Yesterday I took the DBT book apart. It was the only way I…

Yesterday was an all-day migraine day. A day in the dark. A day spent alone. But staying in the dark, and taking medication, drives the headache away enough that I can function. In the dark. Alone. In my chair. (moving around too much causes nausea) But I did get work done~ I built out my capsule wardrobe (see the clothes.) I removed most of the black, which I've long wanted to do. I get so tired of black tees and black…

the winds of march churn the red sea, the rattling machine rusting the water, metal uncurling in the fire, abandoned chairs, full kettles in stasis on the stoves. we stop ten times on the way to the beach, the rearview recording our evacuation from the hills, the little valleys of churches, the mountains folding up behind us. sometimes we used to bring clear water to our lips, the clean spring water choked with lilies. sometimes we used to wake up inside…

Yesterday we drove down to Fairmount, GA, to pick up my brother, bring him up for a doctor's appointment, and then take him back home. Everything went well, but it's a 1 hr. drive there. So we were in the car for 4 hrs. Yikes. Today I will go to the grocery store. And further ponder sus out why how to establish a routine. I have never really done this to my satisfaction. I'm one of those persons who desperately wants…

03/21/23 I am feeling vulnerable. And I am feeling so good inside this new space I’m making. I am feeling a little like the snake who just shed his skin. A little. As I work toward adopting mindfulness, I feel lighter. And accomplished. But I also know that generally my habit is to become enthused, then work really too too hard, then fall away from the positive shift in paradigm. I do not want to sabotage myself. But I have the…

3/20/23 As I have been bothered by my appearance, by how others must think of me when they look at me (a dangerous line of thought), I just made a video of myself. I talked a little, then read a poem. I look, and move, like an ordinary middle-aged woman. I am not hideous. I am not extraordinary. I am normal. I do have a "buffalo” hump back of my neck. I have tried a few times to mitigate the look…

I am tired this morning. And bluish. And not wanting to do much of anything. I am plagued with thoughts of my weight. Of how I look when other people look at me. Of my age, trying to reconcile my actual age, not the image I have stored in my brain. I am dogged, dogged, dogged with thoughts of sugar, desserts, binging. To binge or not to binge. A constant question. An earworm. I feel overwhelmed and stuck. Of course when…

3/18/23 I am tired, but in a good way. I've done today the things I generally likedoing and some I don't do often, probably because I dislike doing them,but so love having gotten them done. I cleaned up downstairs. (lately, before I let Helo have at it with thefloor, I sprinkle the rugs with ground cloves. I am finding myself quitebrilliant in this. a little goes a long way) Then I let the little robotdo all the work while I sit and…

Good morning. So dragging my feet. I think I have to accept that I am just going to stay up late to midnight really and get up at 7:30. If only my body didn’t insist on getting up in the 6s. Cooked breakfast, as usual. Frothed the milk for my coffee—I’ve been doing this a while and I really like it. I was no longer satisfied with my coffee and it was time for a change. And actually I enjoy decaf…

3/14/23 because good things require good work i have migrated here, to Word Press, after a very frustrating last year dealing with Weebly. when i decided to dismantle my old website, i got to thinking about losing my blog posts and how important it was to keep them. then i thought of my old live journal posts. years ago, dale was supposed to get a program to “grab” them all, but we never followed through. i just figured they were gone.…