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Abstract

as my inner voice — they just got here, they’re new in town, meanwhile</p><p id="4af7">this committee in my mind that has decided to try to protect me by making me sad or easy to give up, has been here for almost</p><p id="4ffd">four decades, and boy do they work overtime for no pay, no benefits, they just love to serve —</p><p id="458f">their office is a train, on tracks that only go in circles, they are grey and tattered, they are old and hurt, and I suppose I feel sad for them,</p><p id="0c25">they have the worst job on earth — making me hate myself and close myself off to the world can’t be much fun. I envision them,</p><p id="ee88">this committee, these voices, this tape, this programming and try to see the affirmations and the calm and the tiny glowing thing that might</p><p id="cf10">just be self love, coming to sit down with them, next to them, I can imagine their shock! No one has ever every ever told them this stuff before!</p><p id="a1c6">I am safe. I am loved. I am protected. I am good. This committee needs to retire, this train needs new tracks, this life</p><p id="ba60">my life, has to be worth more than this.</p><p id="6196"><b><i>Jenny Justice</i></b><i> is a poet mom who longs to bring poetry to life in ways that spark empathy, connection, joy, and feeling. She would love it if you would read this poem again, comme

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nt, engage, and share some of your own poetry and life thoughts with her. You can follow her on <a href="https://medium.com/@jennyjustice">Medium</a> and at <a href="https://www.facebook.com/jennyjusticewriter/">Jenny Justice, Writer</a>. You can follow her poetry at<a href="https://medium.com/justice-poetic"> Justice Poetic.</a></i></p><div id="e6b1" class="link-block"> <a href="https://readmedium.com/last-halloween-cb19700be9f3"> <div> <div> <h2>Last Halloween</h2> <div><h3>A Poem</h3></div> <div><p>medium.com</p></div> </div> <div> <div style="background-image: url(https://miro.readmedium.com/v2/resize:fit:320/0*6vhaPbUQ2QT-dvmt)"></div> </div> </div> </a> </div><div id="9cec" class="link-block"> <a href="https://readmedium.com/ghosts-51cb5ea2630a"> <div> <div> <h2>Ghosts</h2> <div><h3>A Poem</h3></div> <div><p>medium.com</p></div> </div> <div> <div style="background-image: url(https://miro.readmedium.com/v2/resize:fit:320/0*51nFqACYaB7JE8sk)"></div> </div> </div> </a> </div></article></body>

Affirmations, Halloween Morning, 2019

A Poem

I am safe. I am loved. I am valued. I am protected. An affirmations list on a cold, dark, Halloween morning.

Woken by anxiety at 4am, again, and again, she can’t get enough of me - I am irresistible, I am magnetic, I am a real catch.

I make coffee, reach out to friends and loved ones — I am good, I am complete, I am important to others and to myself.

The clock ticks, there are dishes, there are lunches to pack, there is the negative self-hate fear anger depression backing track running

as fast and as mean as it can through the lowest vibration of my brain, and there is me, shouting over it, sometimes weakly, sometimes pleading,

sometimes begging, sometimes sternly — hey, listen, please: I am loved, I am safe, I am respected, I am good, I am good.

These affirmations have to be as constant and work as hard as my inner voice — they just got here, they’re new in town, meanwhile

this committee in my mind that has decided to try to protect me by making me sad or easy to give up, has been here for almost

four decades, and boy do they work overtime for no pay, no benefits, they just love to serve —

their office is a train, on tracks that only go in circles, they are grey and tattered, they are old and hurt, and I suppose I feel sad for them,

they have the worst job on earth — making me hate myself and close myself off to the world can’t be much fun. I envision them,

this committee, these voices, this tape, this programming and try to see the affirmations and the calm and the tiny glowing thing that might

just be self love, coming to sit down with them, next to them, I can imagine their shock! No one has ever every ever told them this stuff before!

I am safe. I am loved. I am protected. I am good. This committee needs to retire, this train needs new tracks, this life

my life, has to be worth more than this.

Jenny Justice is a poet mom who longs to bring poetry to life in ways that spark empathy, connection, joy, and feeling. She would love it if you would read this poem again, comment, engage, and share some of your own poetry and life thoughts with her. You can follow her on Medium and at Jenny Justice, Writer. You can follow her poetry at Justice Poetic.