Suicide – is it really a free ticket out?

Suicide

With a delicate stillness

and a quiet noise

with porcelain perfection

and perfect China poise

the body is supine

lying dead on the floor

supine in exsanguination

a choice to become Death’s whore

Ruby red your favourite colour

you wear it very well

although I won’t see you out much

a story we will tell

Did you get off scot-free?

Did you truly escape?

Or will you have to pay your dues

and return to this landscape…

© Kait King, 2015

Sparrow Babies

Tiny and Tinier 2014Tiny and Tinier 2014

A darkened cove

a sparrow’s trove

of palely speckled eggs

a fluff of feathers

incompetent wings

and skinny wobbly legs

A dangerous night

or maybe it’s two

you spend upon the ground

all alone

but then the sun comes up

and warms your spirit

and you fly yourself off home

© Kait King, 2015

The Real Zombies

the real zombies

I live on an island and we are very much an outdoors crowd, particularly water sports – besides swimming; I loved horse riding, kick-boxing and wrestling. But now I find I’m pretty much a forced recluse due to the inoperable and permanent nerve damage from 2 failed surgeries, which affects my left side in a chronic-acute-neuralgic-pain-syndrome kind of way :\

I call myself a cave bear as I really am just hibernating…. or am I in a cocoon ready to show the newly morphed me? Instead I am left with what feels like a bad experiment. So I don’t go out much – you don’t when you deal with chronic pain – it’s exhausting. It’s just too painful, hard, embarrassing and awkward to go out.

Anyhoo, back to the story. I went to talk to my shrink for an hour today – she is lovely; spiritual, intuitive, and…. hold onto your hats, she does not believe in CBT (cognitive behavioural therapy). Instead she believes in the meta-conscience, an intriguing concept and much more of a fit for me.

So I understand it’s all about identifying myself now – not who I was, but who I am now. I am not sure of what defines me now – in all entirety. I was absolutely convinced I had found my calling when I joined the police with the goal to help our kids. So my faith in me is shaken and I’m finding out who I am as this other me. I know I will get through this because this is my journey – somehow there will be some sense in all of this pain. I was on enormous amounts of methadone in 1998 along with gabapentin, fentanyl and a dozen other medications. I couldn’t even shower myself or brush my teeth. For years I was a zombie until something inside me said “Kait, this is not you – this is not who you are and this is not what should define you.” So I took a long time weaning myself off the medication and I survived when I was supposed to die, I managed to have a life when I was told my life was over. It’s a horror story and not one I want to write but I got through that – dealt with pain on a daily basis through no help of anyone else and carved a life for myself and my son, who had lost me for nearly 5 years already.

Then I give up everything to go to get my degree in Criminology. My son is grown up and doing his own thing. I graduate in 2011 – start my job and slip on my front step. Need a discectomy – it goes badly wrong and triggers old pain syndrome from lung nerve damage of 1998 into its rabid self. I’m in the high dependency unit again – major drugs. I begged everyone around me that if anything should happen they are not to put me on that poisonous methadone. They put me on morphine instead and so the hell has rolled on for the past two years with no positive outcomes. There has been a barrage of medications again and I don’t want to have to take them. Sometimes I feel like a failure when I have to succumb because I am in so much pain but I don’t know what else to do. And the knives I put in my own back become innumerable in this too.

So yeah – I use self-hypnosis and breathing techniques – I do my best not to take medication. It dumbs me down and kills any motivation toward anything. It kills you on the inside too so you don’t have any spirit to feel human any more or to fight for a life – it consumes you in a rolled up carpet, a dark cupboard and deaf/mute existence. I see so many people who are left dependent on heavy medication and with no existence – these are the true zombies of the world. These are the walking dead, the emotionally unfeeling, uncaring and unknowing. It’s almost a way of keeping things quiet….Don’t let them get you 😉

It doesn’t really matter

it doesn't really matter

So very close to me

you look

on my inside

and I think it doesn’t matter

So very close to me

you breathe

on my outside

and I think it doesn’t matter

Then I’m alone

pictures fall in my head

I shut my eyes so tight

and lie lost in my bed

wishing you were here so very close to me

and I know…

it really doesn’t matter

any more

© Kait King, 2015

The Unknown

The unknown

And confusion rages

like a winter storm

pushing through my

veins and there’s nothing

I can think

Although there is plenty

I could do

But the storm is

blinding and vicious

And I’m thinking of

my life

Like between a rock

and a hard place

And no, I’m not trapped

I’m not unhappy…

with right now

As the ever-bleeding

heart I’m eased

into the terror of

the unknown

It’s not a bad dream

If it was I wouldn’t know if

I really want to wake up –

Does this just mean for me

that it’s time to face reality?

© Kait King, 2016

Mother’s Day every day

My Mum and Dad in Queen St, Auckland 1956

I walk down the aisle

my eyes passing over cards

words springing out

about Mum going

the whole nine yards

And I stop to read a few

The words just seem

insipid

when I think of you,

Mum

A journey into the intrepid

Four babies later

and over 60 years married

Through wars, tonsillitis,

tears and love you tarried

Now here I am

a mother too

And these words I say: “I love you”

Have also come

from my son’s mouth

and heart

But to say them to you

doesn’t even begin to start

to express what a fantastic Mum you’ve been

You’ve done a good job,

I’m a good human being

So I tell you you’re an amazing Mum

and people are proud of the job you’ve done!

© Kait King, 2015

Just a moment in Africa

Africa

Just before a storm there’s that heavy aching feeling in the sky and electric air. It’s as if the god’s have eaten too much and they have swelled up the sky and filled it with their tautness.

The grasses, trees and shrubs are dead still and almost magnified – waiting – straining and erect for those precious drops of rain to fall upon them so that they too, like the gods, may gorge themselves on welcome water and be able to store up enough supplies to last them through the harder times in between.

I sat just outside to the left of my tent under a tree. I am watching for all the ‘damp animals’ – the one’s who like to frolic and dance amongst the drops as if giving thanks to those glorious gods who have so very kindly provided life support once again.

Gorgeous George is playing with some of the dry leaves that are beginning to stir from being whispered at a little too strongly by the ground winds that slowly pick up as the storm intensifies.

George is my kitten, only not so little anymore – I decided to bring him with me again – I had no idea that he would bring me so much comfort here out in the vast scrubland of Africa.

There is a small lizard; I can see him panting on a flat rock. His breaths are short – he’s sniffing the moist air- totally immobile. George has seen him too and stops fighting his leaf. Slowly he sinks a few centimeters closer to the ground – his eyes almost fully taken up with the expanded pupil. Wriggling furiously he prepares to pounce – still miles away from what he believes is an unknowing lizard. Changing tactics he stalks a little closer. The lizard has seen George now but seems unintimidated. Peering out from under a stalk of whispy grass, 2 out of ten for camouflage George, his whiskers straining, he leaps. His intense energy and passion catapult him well past the intended target which scuttles in between the cracks in the rock unscathed…for now.

The doyley of pain

Doyley of pain

So I’m asked to describe how I concentrate to write or focus on anything when pain is such a major contributor in my life and a permanent. I thought about it for a second. The doctor had used the whiteboard and drawn “my brain” with pain in the background and words like focus, concentration, motivation scribbled at the front with arrows looking like they were trying to get into my brain. Understandably these things all present a challenge but the way I see it, is that the pain is like an intricate piece of lace that is draped across my brain. In between the detailed lacy gaps things like concentration, motivation and focus do filter through. And depending on how tight the stitching is sometimes it is easier for those things to flow through and other times not so much. This might make sense to some of you – I’m not sure.

Also I’m not big on the word hope. I don’t want hope – I want it sorted now or I will just live with it until some such miracle cure arrives – but I’m not spending my life or any time at all with the hope that I will be fine again. It is what it is. They say hope is a word used for people who don’t want to accept. That is not who I want to be – I know a part of me longs for my body to be pain free but that is just not how it is.

I believe that determination comes from my soul and I will carve my way through whatever it is the universe chooses to share with me and be grateful at the same time – because even though I can’t walk very far, I can write – just a different double u (w)…. 🙂

© Kait King, 2015

I wish I could tell her

I wish I could tell her

While she’s trying harder

working it out

all her problems, hangups, pity and

self-doubt

And she tries too hard to achieve

because she’s lonely, angry,

she’s had no love to eat

And as far as this woman knows

it’s like a picture, no – a painting

or a movie, too slow

As far as this woman knows

it’s like fighting the fight

but not a fight that you chose

So she’s crying alone

no sleep at night

I wish I could find her

and tell her –

it will all be all right

© Kait King, 2015