Mind the Gap
Will I take the leap?

My feet sink
deep down
into the wonder beneath the worry
and my courage shrinks.
Will you see the truth? Mine, not yours.
Will I finally be bold and tell it? Or do what I always do…
Chitter about terriers and squirrels. Bend myself into twisty twirls.
Waiting for a crumb of…
love respect attention.
While you sit wrapped in protective fleece unable to smell your senseless shit.
It’s me, always me. Reacting to your fits. Hearing your voice. Paying for your choice.
Over and over. Again and again.
Dancing to covers of dysfunction.
It’s you, always you… blaming me for being me blaming me for seeing him blaming me for leaving her… and you, always you.
Doesn’t matter what I do. Or don’t do.
Let me cross
the gap
stand by your side.
We write our songs. New ones. They play on and on.
We dance and laugh Their rhythm rights our wrongs.
They say…
Be brave. Show up.
Be honest. Open up.
Be kind. Grow up.
Forgive me. And you. Release me. To you.
Rest your head on mine.
Place your hand in mine.
Oh, sister of mine.
On a recent podcast, Glennon Doyle talked about the gap of suffering. It’s the gap between knowing the next hard thing and doing the hard thing.
When it comes to difficult conversations with loved ones, I live in that gap.
Part of my journey is minding the gap of discomfort. I learned to get comfortable feeling uncomfortable in my work life, but I avoid it in my personal life. Instead, I slip into that good girl role.
The Peacemaker. The Silent Judge. The Black Sheep.
Glennon’s words resonated with me and I drew my gap and wrote the words that served as the first draft of this poem.
I’m on the edge of that gap and ready to leap into a new land. A land where I show up, speak up, and grow up. Wish me luck.
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Adrienne Parkhurst writes about leadership, management, parenting, books, and life. She dabbles in poetry. Adrienne is working on being a more courageous writer — she started writing memoir and it scares the beejeebees out of her.
