Tag Archives: Boundaries

Outlived Convictions


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Over the past few years I’ve been redefining every aspect of my life.

Out of tragedies come blessings unseen and unexpected. Things that I could think up is nothing compared to what life, the universe and God could give me.  I watch every aspect of my existence unfold like a pretty origami.

I whisper, it’s okay to be like water.

Form only to be formless again.
Give up the concrete.

All the little things add up.

Like leaving people and situations that no longer serve me.  It’s amazing how much I kept due to systems, two-way arrangements and outlived convictions.

It’s crazy how much one single person can be a parasite plaguing your life because they made it all about themselves.  Those people I had in my life who took up space and rarely asked, “How are you doing?  How is your mood?  Do you need help with anything?  Is that person, place or thing serving you?”

I enjoy unfriending people I outgrew and who I no longer share the same thought patterns and commonality with.  Particularly, the atheists.

I love creating boundaries with whomever I’m dealing with currently.  I don’t think enough people do this.  It’s very liberating, and time is short to deal with too many things that weigh the shoulders like anvils.  For too long I lived with a heart and mind of steel.  Always, tough, guarded and heavy when the soul needs to feel light to explore freely.

Ah, and to lighten the load further.  I love throwing old clothes away that no longer suit my frame or non-gym mentality.

And would you believe me if I say, I learned many of my new self-care habits from observing my sweet cat.  The way she grooms herself numerous times a day in meditation.  The way she pulls on her nails when she knows they’re detaching because they stopped serving their purpose.  The way she loves herself.

How many people do you know practice self-care?

Personally, I don’t know many.  The people I know are too busy looking for instant gratifications, the next editor app to make themselves appear more beautiful than what they’re not while others are taking drugs trying to escape their own jails and hells.

In treating myself with more love, care and concern, it has allowed me to heal and move past some of my emotional, physical and mental trauma.  It allows me to become hyper-aware when others, including situations are trying to disregard my care simply by trying to take advantage of me in some way.

I’m always surprised by others and how callous they are.  Like how they don’t see the fine line between respect and disrespect, compliments as opposed to insults, caring versus being indifferent.

I wonder about politeness – and is it even real?  Or is everyone just pretending to give something just so they can get something back in return?

These days I’ve learned how to speak and express more whereas before I would write everything down on paper and express myself through emails.  There were times when people who’ve met me didn’t like me very much in the beginning because I was a mute.  I was a very content mute because I love observing.  Nowadays, I’ve found some satisfaction in communicating and volunteering random information with others.

I like that I bloomed in many ways.  I used to think that being vulnerable and open was being weak.  I guess, perhaps I was vulnerable and open with the wrong people.  I realized that with my continual kindness and personal growth, I can be strong by being soft and gentle, too.

-Pennington

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On Writing


Before the love of writing started I began with reading lots and lots of books – all kinds really.  Then for a few years came book reports.  I enjoyed breaking down a story as well as making drawings for the report cover, particularly as a way to stand out from the rest of the classmates.  After book reports I started to write around the age of 9.

I wrote short stories back then, mostly horror because my family was big on watching horror films and I needed an outlet for my reoccurring nightmares.  So I wrote and wrote and each time I felt my heart become more and more alive.  I remember I enjoyed writing not just because I felt full of life, but because all my teachers said I was good at it.  And whenever someone gave me constructive criticism I was determined to get better.  Eventually I won a writing medal at elementary school because of that attitude.

In Junior High I would go on to write graded screenplays for the entire class to act out on.  By seventh grade I turned my attention to deeper writing like journaling and confessional poetry and during this time short stories were put on hold (and for the most part still is) as my writing began to take on a form of therapy.  With being a loner and feeling like an outcast from family and school, I learned to create friendships with my writing.  Then in later years, I learned about blogging.

So, even though I wouldn’t change a thing, it wasn’t until very recent that I realized I tend to write predominantly when I’m feeling glum (manic), bitter, displeased, enraged or dispirited.  Then of course there are the feelings of when I’m hyped, full of mania (highs) and excitability with huge shots of adrenaline when I train before, during or after.  Once in a blue I write when I’m happy, obsessive or in love too, but my heart lies with writing sorrow first.  So what’s the dilemma?

One dilemma is I believe I’ve limited myself to writing with and/or about certain emotions, so when I’m actually happy I find it difficult to write or get inspired to write.

During the time I was on a mood-stabilizing pill I stopped writing for 3 months completely (which is absurd), not just because it changed my persona to a degree, but because I had less bipolar episodes, less sadness, less excitability, less highs and lows.  I was somewhere in the middle, but not quite.  I wasn’t necessarily happy, but wasn’t necessarily sad.  Maybe neutral? But it made it difficult to find any drive to write.  Now, I’m trying to come up with solutions and creative ways to write about anything and everything to push myself over the boundaries I’ve created.

The second dilemma aside from finding inspiration through negative tone emotions is I started working on a book (a novel).  But, the problem for me is I stopped writing short stories decades ago, so I doubt my abilities since I’ve been out of practice.  Writing in narrative, I find to be more difficult than say, writing a poem, prose or a blog.  This is another challenge I’ve been trying to work on AND I’m open to suggestions from anyone who is kind enough to share.

Thanks for reading.

-Pennington

Pennington’s: Dispatch from the Future


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In the future, we know everything.
We communicate without boundaries,
We comfort from the unknown of our hearts,
We love as if we were always the wiser.

It’s a degree of perfection, (probably from past failures)?

No longer do we search for time in each other’s faces.
We gather round a pool of eternity.
We set our minds free from exasperation
And the depth of deaths in the present.

There’s a haven and within, a familiarity,
A constant incidence of urgency
Where abandonment flourished
Yet, within, the unconditional, forgotten

And we left behind the skeletons in the closet
The transitional skin of metamorphosis
And out the cocoon we became the butterflies of love

Our parents could only dream of.

-Pennington©
(a.k.a Ines Garcia)

Leeway


ciga

I smell cigarettes and it connects me
to the thought of you.
In your car, you keep a cig lingering
between your fingers and talk your head off.
I tell you to light up and smoke.
On two occasions I asked for a few drags.
Surprised, you wondered why but dare not ask.
I want your bad habits to be on display,
I don’t want them hidden.
I’ll take the good along with the bad;
Inhaling the cigarette allows for
open boundaries and zero limits.

-Pennington©