An Attempt at Slam Poetry

I have not written a blog in several years. YEARS! I can't believe it. I used to write daily or at least once a week. Then I moved. And my life was turned upside down, mostly in great ways. So here I am, done will college, and taking a creative writing class to get back into writing. This week's unit topic was Slam Poetry, Procedural Poetry, and Found Poetry. While I do not care much for Found Poems, I had never heard of them and I am sure many of you haven't either. They are basically poems that are works of writings from other sources (i.e. a newspaper, advertisement, the Bible, etc.) and are retyped into poem form, novel form, etc. The poetry is actually the process it takes to put it together into a new form, not necessarily the words itself. It all seems to artsy and obscure to me.

What I loved most this week was Slam Poetry. Think of the spoken word poem "Woman, Whoaaaa Man" in the movie So I Married an Ax Murder. Or perhaps you're familiar with the Beat Generation. All of it used to seem so cheesy and out there to me, until this class. It is beautiful and so powerful. if done right, the words flow like lyrics to a song. The sounds roll off the tongue, fly at you and hit you in the heart. There is crescendo and finality at the end that is as soothing as actual closure to something in life. It is pure art and I only wish I had the courage inside to fight the paralyzing fear I have of public speaking to be able to read my poem out loud.

So this will have to do. I will share with you my Slam Poem. It is called Your Eyes and it is pretty straight forward so I am sure you'll understand the subject. I've also included some of the other poems I wrote this week. One is a haiku and the other is a procedural poem in form of a recipe. I hope you enjoy! And I promise to begin to blog more.

Your Eyes (Slam poem by Erin Felsen)

Your eyes.

They were closed for three months but your ears,

They never stopped hearing.

Cheering for you to get better, but you disappeared.

Fear inside of me knowing that my dad would expire.

Desire.

I wanted to see you sit up in that bed.

Head to toe yourself again,

But I knew.

You.

My dad. Glad you were not going to suffer, but sad,

So sad that you were going to die.

Inside I was afraid of taking steps alone.

Home would never be just that.

What was mom going to do without you by her side.

Hiding away from the family and friends standing there, holding you.

Glued to your bedside and trying to hold back feeling the pain.

Gaining nothing by being so shut down.

Frowns on the faces of those who watched you.

You.

You took your last breath and so did I.

Died.

Fire Mouth (Haiku by Erin Felsen)

A pizza slice

It burned the roof of my tongue

Water saved me

Recipe for Bullying (Procedural poem by Erin Felsen)

Ingredients:

Judgmental mindset and an audience

A busy hallway in a high school building

Societal pressures

Cell phone

Social media account

Snappy hashtag

Bad judgement

Instructions:

1.       Show up at school and hang out in the hallway before class

2.       Notice the differences in everyone

3.       Use a dash of bad judgement to single out the lonely kid or the nerd with no friends

4.       Take out your cell phone and take a picture of said nerd and post it to your Instagram

5.       Use snappy hashtag and share your post virally with the rest of the school

F Day is an F You

Me and Dad at USC in front of the Tommy Trojan statue

F Day feels like a big F you. From the second to last week of May until the morning of F Day, my inbox if full of junk solicitations from Amazon.com, 1-800-Flowers, Create and Barrel, Target, Khols, the list goes on and on, all reminding me that I’m running out of time to get my dad something special this father’s day. I find it so hard not to be bitter that he isn’t here any longer to give him a gift. I find it hard to look past the painful reminder that my father was taken prematurely from our family and that with him went all connectivity and sense of family that we once had. Now it is just me. Me and my mom, although she hardly calls me and expects me to check up on her, and really doesn’t do much to understand what is at the core of my heart. She just isn’t that type of woman.

Typically I could avoid feeling this bad on F Day because I was able to spend the day doing something my dad used to love to do; something in honor of him. Or I could sleep the day away eating pizza and watching crappy television shows to block out the emptiness. But this year, things are different. I am literally forced to celebrate F Day by having to work, running a remembrance service for all those who have lost their fathers, grandfathers, and any important man in their life. So here I am, really sad and still devastated that my own dad, my best friend and mentor, is no longer living, and yet I have to work at the cemetery where he is not buried, hosting a remembrance service to celebrate F Day.

In an effort to find some balance and peace with the entire situation, and to properly grieve in a healthier fashion, I will list out 12 things I loved about my dad, one for each year he has been gone.

1. His spirit
2. His calming presence
3. His love and loyalty to family
4. His understanding of giving and receiving respect
5. His sense of humor and quick wit
6. His passion for his job
7. His courage, even in the final stage of his life
8. His intelligence
9. His ability to make me feel like a princess
10. His love of sports
11. The way he made little glasses on the “D” in Danny Felsen when he signed his name, so it would look just like him
12. His knack for pulling off the best pranks

My dad was and always will be the light in my heart that guides me, drives me, steers me in the right direction, and keeps me going when I want to give up. It is impossible for anyone who has not lost their parent at a young age to fully understand what it feels like to have to go on with life following their passing, and how challenging it is to literally have to grow up overnight and have no rule book to follow with guidelines and explanations making it easier to navigate life with the burden of pain and grief that you carry in your heart. The longing and deep void from his absence doesn’t go away and I feel like it in a way defines me now. When my dad died I changed and my life changed and my heart changed. I have been forever imprinted by the spirit of goodness, compassion, friendship, love and loyalty that my father had in his soul, and do whatever I can to be a good person and live up to his legacy every day.

Dad, my Tommy Trojan, my superhero, my best bud – I love you unconditionally, whether you are physically here with me or are a spirit of energy surrounding me and I navigate my way through the course of my life. I sincerely hope that I make you proud and that you know how deeply sorry I am that you got sick and that you are not here with your family. I wish there was a way to connect with you and tell you that I love you, and that I am sorry for all the shit I put you through as a crazy, chaotic and self-righteous teenager. I wish I could tell you that you were right; the tattoos were a really bad idea that I really do regret, and that I should have blindly listened to you all those times you gave me advice on my future. I wish I could laugh with you now looking back on all those times you said that I had to do things the hard way, because it was so true. Most of all, I wish I could run to you and give you a hug like I was a little girl seeing her dad pick her up from school after the first day; and never let go.

I love you today, on F Day, and every day to follow. Thank you for being the best father a girl could ask for, and even though our time was cut short, I cherish every moment and every lesson. Rest assured that you were a great father; the best in fact. And you were truly loved.

Be Careful What You Read

Loss is loss. It comes in many shapes and sizes, forms and situations. I feel like I’ve experienced more than most and yet it is still difficult to deal with and work through. The pain from a loss, whether it is a death of a loved one or friend or it is an end of a relationship, leaves a hole that becomes a gnawing void that you want so badly to fill with distractions and instant gratification. It is a lacking from something that once was so joyous and full of love that causes a burning, stinging pain that is almost torturous at moments of complete silence. It is the times of stillness that the mind races and almost instantaneously locates that gaping wound and picks at it, focusing on the longing for the companionship you once had or the smile of the person that is no longer with us. It is so hard to accept the unsettling feelings and the emptiness that comes with coping with loss, but acceptance and forward momentum are the only true ways to heal.

Healing is a funny concept when dealing with an emotional pain. Healing isn’t just popping a pill and over a short period of time getting better. Healing as it refers to loss is processing and allowing time to grieve, being temporarily reckless, falling completely apart and becoming a total mess, shutting down and yelling and screaming, sleeping a hell of a lot and overindulging on food and drinks. It is most importantly going through the motions and picking yourself back up again; dusting off the anger and resentment, sobering up in every sense, and learning to live a different life. It isn’t filling the void – it is learning to work with it, building up happiness and success in other avenues of your life, to make the void seem smaller and smaller.

Today, I read a post from my ex on Facebook, which stated that 2015 is the year of rebirth and starting over, taking life into his own hands as a happier stronger person. I am so happy for him. But I am also very sad. I am sad for myself because, while it is true that I made the choice to leave our marriage, I still have such fond sentiment when I think of the memories we shared. Twelve long years included so many great times; full, deep belly laughter, crying good tears, companionship and a deep bond during some very dark times. He was my rock and will always be a best friend to me. I do not look at my loss of our relationship as a bad thing. It was necessary as we both outgrew our relationship. Our codependency was preventing us from being the best versions of ourselves that we possibly could be and held us back from our full potential.

A good friend of mine told me that he was proud of me and admires my ability to make things happen for myself. He said that he sees me set my mind on something, whether it is a tangible goal or working through an emotional issue, and watches me move forward without stopping until the goal is accomplished. I have never stopped to really think about my process for advancement or getting through a challenge; it’s always just been what I do. My mom has said several times that I have matured and become a very strong and focused woman, going for what I want and making it happen. There are reasons for this. I recognize why I am this way, and it is a result of loss.

When my dad passed away when I was twenty my world was turned upside down. I was broken and completely devastated. I was hopeless and felt like there was nothing worth fighting for. But over time, I went through the processes of loss and grieving, and anger and resentment subsided and things got easier to deal with. I knew I was accepting of my father’s death when I had the realization that life can be taken at any moment and therefore it is very important to live in the present and to the fullest. My dad passing away proved to me that we never know how much time we will have. The worst thing to me would be dying without feeling fulfilled or knowing that I did not do everything in my power to accomplish my dreams.

2015 is going to be a year of more personal growth, acceptance of loss and pain that I have been through and that may come my way, as well as a year of adventure. My loss does not determine my reality. As my ex used to always say, it is our focus that determines our reality. This I know he was correct about.

Personal Superhero

Tonight I took my last final for my semester. This had been the worst semester to date,  especially difficult because of all I've been through personally at the start of it. Things are finally balancing out and my life seems to be back on track, but a few months ago it seemed like it all broke open and nothing made sense. I was overwhelmed and overtaken by emotions, good and painful, and couldn't gain control of my heart.

As dark and dramatic as it sounds, it is almost as if my spirit had to be broken to get back to who I once was when I was happy and confident. I had to let go, let in emotion, process new and unfamiliar pain, and let go again to understand the choices I have the power to make and appreciate each day I get to make them.

With my therapist out of town for a month, I'm left to my own devices to continue the healing process. I have recently started mindfulness meditation and have really started to enjoy the challenge of accepting the emotions I'm feeling for what they are. It's actually quite difficult to be that present and aware. I don't know if I would be able to do this without the pain.

I use my desire for companionship and partnership as motivation. I look at my hopefulness for a future full of family, love and success as a driving force to be adjusted and grounded.

The quote below is very true. I've held on to the anger and pain from my dad passing away for 11 years as of tomorrow. Tomorrow is 11 years to the date when he was taken from us far too soon. I think about him every day and am so mad at myself because I struggle to remember the sound of his voice. I reminisce of special outings and good times we shared and try my hardest to live up to his standards and make him proud. My father was my sounding board; my confidant; my hero. I was a typical daddy's girl and can only hope I am half the person he was. I aspire to be as kind, compassion, patient, understanding,  gentle and loving.

Tonight,  as I lay in bed falling asleep, I can't help but think of him and hope his spirit is still present, with me, proud of the woman I've become. I wish I could see him one last time and watch him play basketball with his buddies at Venice High School on a Saturday morning. With my eyes closed I can hear the ball bouncing on the freshly waxed gymnasium floor. I can smell the musty wear on the old wood bleachers. I can hear his laugh and his friend calling out, "hey its Dan the Man." I can feel the warmth of his smile that barely showed his top teeth as he look over at me on the side court practicing my layups. I can hear my heart beat pounding as I keep him in my mind.

Dad, I am sorry if I have failed you. I only want to make you proud and live with love and kindness as you did so gracefully. I hope you know how much I love you and miss you every single day of my life. I will love you for eternity, until we get to meet again.

Dad, you are my personal superhero.

Living Out Loud

Treadmill blogging is back folks! I am at a new gym in Hollywood trying to establish a new routine and run off an emotional day. I feel like I'm on a roller coaster sitting in the front car inching my way up to the top waiting anxiously with every click of the track for the big drop. I've got Safe and Sound by Capital Cities blasting in my headphones and my heart beat pounds to the rhythm. I am running my hardest trying to sweat out what is aching.

I got a beautiful message today from an old friend about my writing. It made me feel so good to know that my writing in this blog resonates with someone and helped put a smile on their face and shed some perspective on life's challenges. It was such a compliment to know someone recognizes my bravery for living my life out loud, in the open for the world to read. It really is hard.

I also got to thinking about all that I share with everyone and the different struggles I've faced over the years. I started evaluating what I'm unhappy with. And then I started missing my dad. A lot.

I'm at a place in my life where I really need him to be here. I need my dads gentle reassurance that I haven't royally fucked up my life and that although it's really hard to recognize now, I am actually headed for greater things. I need his care and his sense of humor. I need to be cared for; a priority.

I also kick myself for always seeming so confident and strong. I never tell people the truth when they ask how I am. I give the typical canned answer - "I'm great. Things are going well." When inside, I'm scared and sad at times. I need a hug and an "it will be okay kid" pep talk just like anyone else. 

The anxiety was so strong today and all I wanted to do was curl up into a ball in front of a fireplace and go to sleep. I wanted to feel the warmth of the fire and dream of going out for lunch with my pops. I wanted to picture him telling me that he is proud of me and I haven't let everyone down. That I will be with a man who really respects and loves me and cares for me in the nurturing way I desire and deserve. That I will be financially successful and make good decisions. That I will build a life with a beautiful family. That anything can happen if I put my mind to it. That I am still his little peanut. 

And now I'm running and crying on the treadmill in the new gym. Way to make a solid first impression on all the beautiful people of Hollywood. I just don't care. I need these tears to come out. I need to release this pain that I carry with me so deep inside on a daily basis. I need to bare it all to build myself back up.

I am very honest with my emotions as raw as they may be. I made a promise to myself that I would be forthright with my feelings and truly live. So here I am. Take me for what I'm worth. I'm living out loud. 

Biological Father

This is Mike. He is my biological father. Mike and I met a few years ago and are starting to build a friendship. Many of you may not know that I was adopted at birth. I was given an incredible childhood full of love, education, silliness, and adventure. My dad was everything to me and will always be the only father I have.

Mike and I started talking a few years ago when I reached out to him curious about the other person responsible for my creation. Lately he has taken an interest in being an active participant in my life and is making the effort to get to know me.

My intention with this entry is not to showcase Mike, but to vent the feelings I had following lunch with him yesterday. Yesterday was a hard day. I can't seem to say that enough. I know the first holiday after a divorce is difficult, but this may be the hardest part of yesterday for me. I met Mike for lunch on Yom Kippur. I know, I should have been fasting... bad Jew! But it was the only time we could meet before he left for a three week trip to Italy and he really wanted to see me before he left. We met for a late lunch at a cute cafe and had a wonderful time catching up, telling stories of who we were in the past, laughing and smiling. It was a very pleasant afternoon. He made it very clear that he wanted to be a part of my life and get involved. I should be happy.

But I left feeling deeply saddened by the fact that it was lunch with my biological father instead of my dad who raised me, was my best friend, and was not here with me anymore. I felt a stabbing pain in my heart that I haven't felt in a very long time. I felt the void of him being gone ripping me apart and reminding me that the one person I want to be there for me throughout this period of transition in my life is just not able to. I was again very aware of his absence and my heart hurt so much. Driving home over Laurel Canyon I could hardly catch my breath. I couldn't stop the tears and couldn't get past the emptiness. I was back to where I was 11 years ago; angry that he is gone too soon and asking why this had to happen.

The whole weekend has been very emotional. I make light of a lot of things and diffuse uncomfortable situations with humor in order to deflect any real emotion if its something I don't want to feel. Going to temple was something important to my father and so I went in his honor. The Kol Nidre service starting Yom Kippur was a service he and I used to attend together. It was tradition and I promised to continue that. So I went. But it was not without bringing up emotions that I haven't felt in years and left me sleepless and saddened, saying into the darkness of my bedroom at 1:30 in the morning "I'm sorry that you didn't get the chance to see me as a woman. I'm sorry you didn't get to see me truly happy. I'm sorry you are not here."

I try not to talk about him too much and try not to be that girl that walks around with a chip on her shoulder; that girl who everyone is afraid to talk about their parents around in fear that it will make me feel bad that I am missing one of my own. I don't want to seem broken or damaged because I am not. I am just hurt and I am surviving and throughout all this I have come to realize the grieving process never ends. It gets easier to maintain and to process emotions, but you are always grieving the loss if it is a love so great and so important that living life without them is not the same.

I am lucky that my biological father wants to be in my life and look forward to years of getting to know one another. But I am sad at the same time that my father who could not see how much of an impact he made on my life and how his imprint will be with me forever. I can only live in his honor and be the best person I can and hope that his spirit is out there somewhere, watching me with a smile on his face.

Putting Things Into Perspective

It has been quite a while since I blogged. Since February to be exact. Reading through my past entries nothing seems quite as important or dramatic as it did then, especially given the series of events that have occurred in my life the past several months. The desire to write has escaped me. Creativity and motivation have been lacking. That is until today. Today my emotions that have been bottled up and stuff down deep within a part of my mind that I tried so desperately to close off have surfaced. I can't continue to push them away or use momentary conversation and time filler activities to stifle what I feel inside. I can't pretend that I do not feel bad or scared or anxious any longer.

Last year I decided it was time for Tom and I to separate. After being together 12 long years I no longer recognized who I had become. I am no longer the 19 year old dreamer lacking direction and goals. I am no longer the child living in the moment, spending money frivolously on copious amounts of alcohol and long evenings with friends at a dive bar shooting pool. I am no longer the girl living in the moment, even if the moment was not worth living in. I am 31 years old, responsible, driven, dedicated to higher education, inspired by personal growth and possibilities. I want a family, a home, security, an equal partnership, passion and romance, and unconditional love. Tom and I are not who we once were as young kids.

Life has not been easy for us. My dad passed away when I was 20. He was everything to me. My inspiration and my best friend. He was my hero. Tom stood by my side when most of my friend disappeared. When the weight of knowing my father was never coming back finally hit me, Tom was there to hold me up. He was my guiding light and the strength for both of us to keep life going. He was my glue.

Today, 11 years after my dad passed away I am a stronger woman. I have regained the strength I lost when he passed away and have goals I am working towards. I have a great amount of drive and work hard for what I want. I have become a motivated, professional with a solid head on my shoulders and a need to succeed. In all this work to better myself and grow I grew apart from the joint goals Tom and I shared. I grew apart from him and we no longer had any passion. We no longer had any romance. We did not share the same goals and had to come to terms with the fact that we were really just friends.

I tell you all this not to gain your sympathy or pity, but simply to purge the pit in my stomach and the aching on my heart. I am writing this selfishly for me, but perhaps it may help you too. I realized through all this that we never really know what is going on in someones life. They could be struggling with their own failed marriage or some other life-altering decision but not feel comfortable sharing it with the world. So here I am - putting it all out there.

I filed for divorce on Rosh Hashanah, the Jewish New Year. It was a complete coincidence, but if you are like me, you believe there is no such thing as a coincidence. A new, fresh start to a new year. I can't begin to tell you how scary this is. Today is Yom Kippur and I am really struggling. Today is especially difficult. I am sad. Very fucking sad. Today I am mourning a loss of not only my marriage, but also my father and as a result of his passing the loss of my family. No one is together anymore. There was no where to break the fast. I am sitting alone at home, writing a blog, breaking the fast by myself. The irony of this entire situation is my greatest fear has always been being completely alone. The thought of being alone has given me anxiety. I am uncomfortable in silence. Yet I chose to end my marriage and accept a life of solitude.

On Yom Kippur, the day of atonement, I am asking for forgiveness to my friends who I have neglected as a result of being unhappy. I ask for forgiveness from my family who I have distanced myself from since my dad passed away. I ask for forgiveness from my mom who I know I have let down by getting divorced. And I ask Tom for forgiveness for giving up on our marriage by leaving.

I know there are better days ahead of me and a life of happiness. This is but a moment in time, and like the other blog entries I wrote, this too will seem inconsequential in the years to come as time passes by. It is all about perspective.