Today I'm overrun with so many thoughts. I can't seem to narrow them into one poem. I woke up to an angry tangle of muscle and joints and nerves. Chaos, it seems, in my body. Aches and pains and realism. Yesterday we worked our asses off. Well, one of us did, but me, I didn't have one to begin with. I got that from my Dad. He used to talk about no-ass-atall. That's me. Anyway.... we cleaned the back room. Guess what? Those pine chips in the brooders... dust. They create LOTS of dust. Sometimes it was hard to see because the dust was so thick when we cleaned, moved, re-arranged, and swept.
I'm rereading this and thinking about the randomosity of it. the adhd-ness of it all. and i think... that's my life. So much changing from one thing to another in the middle of the first thing because in my mind if I do thing number two it will make thing number one easier to finish. Or because I need a break, a mental pitstop, if you will. or because I have adhd brain.
I'm so grateful that my kiddo is learning to go with the flow. Because I am just a random mess a lot of the time. Well, random anyway. and mess anyway. Okay, yes, a random mess.
I find myself drifting a lot. And remembering. I must be getting old. All the stories in my brain. Many (most?) have to do with my Dad and funny moments, randomly dropped into ordinary tasks. Sometimes not so funny, but always pleasant. Because my dad just wasn't mean. He was never a hard task-master or a mean parental unit. He always, always, always erred on the side of love.
No, that's not totally true. But in regard to parenting, it is. But when I'm being honest with myself I know that he also bought into that whole, "love the sinner, hate the sin..." thing. I guess it really made me mad when he labeled people as "the sin." I love so-and-so and he/she/they are always welcome here, but the (significant other) is not. Is this how you love the sinner?
But I recently told my cousin, once they die, they are elevated to sainthood. Nothing they ever did is to be held against them. It's complicated for me. Because there are some things about my dad that I'm not okay with, and for sure society calls a sin. But he's gone and those things are swept under the rug. I remember my dad as love. He loved. a lot. and though there are times and ways he didn't, he was a good example of love.
Where am I going with this? To be honest, I'm not sure. I think it's just an emotional dump and the brain and heart. Because the wheels are turning too fast. There's just so much in there, going round and round and looking for a stopping place.
I'm grateful today that it is certain thoughts and thought patterns that need to get off at the next stop. I'm grateful that don't win today. Today I don't wish to exit the ride. That's progress. That's peace. I'm so very grateful for this.
And now, here's a little random poem. Born of chaos and randomosity.
Random City
I woke today with chaos
in my brain and
my body as well.
Aches and pains and regrets
doggedly pester my body.
my arms, my hands and wrists;
my back, my legs, my joints.
Please dear God,
give me some relief.
I woke today with randomness
running amuck in my brain.
No discipline
it drives me wild with
thoughts, emotions memories.
I lament that fact that I have Noassatall.
And then I giggle as this is
from my dad.
He also suffered from
this disease.
Ha. not a disease at all.
Right?
Just a flat backside,
where other people
have an ass to work
and overwork.
I never have to worry if I say
I worked my ass off.
If you want proof,
just look.
It ain't there.
And again I laugh
but now I also shrug
because where did that come from?
That is the chaos of my life.
my brain doing as it will.
interupting the working part
to interject the random part.
I must confess
it's never boring in here.
-Carrie Horn
4-19-26
