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  • Writer's pictureAlice Wyatt

Tis the Season

This poem is two of three. I am posting them on three consecutive days instead of once a week because they belong together. Why these? Now? The holidays are often brutal for people with mental illness or suffering from trauma (probably all of us!). Our carefully crafted coping mechanisms are overrun by all things merry and bright. Old patterns of must-haves or must do's overtake us. Too much. Too much. Too much. There isn't enough time, or energy, or money to keep up with the media blitz of a perfect American Holiday Season. Families aren't perfect because people aren't perfect. Old hurts are dragged up like ornaments on a tree, there for everyone to gaze at until they are stuffed into a box and ignored for another whole year. We thought we were all better - until we realized we aren't.

Be kind to yourself. Be kind to one another. Give extra hugs. Spread cheer, joy, hope, and love with thoughtful words and small kindnesses. Love sinks into hearts and stays long past the time when a fancy gift is forgotten. Honor boundaries people put on their time and energy. Forgive them on their dark days; celebrate the bright ones they offer to share with you. They are working to be their best selves because they love you. I am working to be my best self because I love you.

xxx ooo

Alice -------

Beneath the Surface II

a friend having a panic attack

goes to the doctor

"You don't look like an anxious person."

she is told

she repeats this with a laugh

knowing it's not funny

the horror of


gaining power

rising to the surface

for all to see

the shame

the embarrassment

the judgment

that comes

when we feel

we are too much

with nothing left to give

For JM - I adore you

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