Daddy · Digital Art · Poetry · Writing

Daddy, We Need to Talk

Sandi StatonLeave a comment
Daily writing prompt
Who would you like to talk to soon?
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I cried for you the other night
First time since you left this world
Not that I didn’t love you
But that I thought you didn’t love me
Then I look at this picture
and I see the love in your face
But I needed to feel it in my heart
Did you know I wanted to be a daddy’s girl
To cry in your strong arms
To hear your love songs in my ear
Did you know how my heart ached
To know you
To talk to you
To understand your silence
Did the war kill your soul
Were you suffering in silence
I wanted to know
I needed to know
But I never will
Because you’re gone
And I can’t hear you now
Your silence bore a hole in my soul
It twisted and confused my mind
It made me bitter and angry
At you
At myself
At the world
My heart became a festering boil
Of anger and rage
Striking out against the world
Screaming for love and understanding
Only to receive the double-edged sword
Of fear
Isolation
And rejection
Over and over again
I wanted to hate you
But my heart wouldn’t let me
I wanted to forget you
But your footsteps echo in my brain
I’m letting you go daddy
I no longer need to know and understand
I no longer need your love and support
I found what I need in the ones who love me
Talk to me
Embrace me
Comfort me
And that’s enough
I will always love you daddy
But it’s time for my heart
To set each other free
~Sandi








Digital Art · Humor · Poetry · Writing

The Trickster

Sandi Staton4 Comments

He lives in my brain
Such a trickster is he
Causing chaos and confusion
And frustration for me
But he doesn’t care
Not one little bit
And continues his mischief
With no plans to quit
I awake from my slumber
With grand plans for the day
To declutter my house
And put everything away
I pick up a box filled with trinkets galore
And begin to plunder
In search for more
So consumed in my frenzy
The hours slipped away
And the house is more cluttered
Then it was yesterday
And the beat goes on
From one day to the next
Till one day for sure
I’m gonna break that trickster’s neck
~Sandi


















Digital Painting · Humor · Poetry · Writing

The Outhouse on the Hill

Sandi Staton2 Comments

Though just a child of long ago

I remember still

The narrow crooked rocky path

And the outhouse on the hill

It creaked and groaned against the wind

And possessed an awful smell

Yet proudly stood beneath the trees

And served its purpose well

I love the comforts of today

Like running water and silly frills

Yet still I think of ages past

And the outhouse on the hill

~ Sandi

Writing

Call it What it is . . .

Sandi StatonLeave a comment
Daily writing prompt
What public figure do you disagree with the most?
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2 Timothy 3:1-4
There will be terrible times in the last days. People will be lovers of themselves, lovers of money, boastful, proud, abusive, disobedient to their parents, ungrateful, unholy, without love, unforgiving, slanderous, without self-control, brutal, not lovers of the good, treacherous, rash, conceited, lovers of pleasures rather than lovers of God . . .

Biden is at the top of my list. Call me crazy, but I once believed that the government was for the good of the people; honest, God-fearing, fair-minded, compassionate, just. Silly me. I’ve never been more ashamed of a president than I am of Joe Biden, who, in just a few short years, has turned our country upside down. How can any of us, who believe in doing what’s right, support an administration that is doing so wrong? None of us are perfect; we all make mistakes. But when we keep making the same mistakes over and over again, they’re no longer mistakes; they’re habits of pure evil. I’m not speaking against a particular political party; I am speaking against the injustice I see operating within a government that has gone wrong. A government that has become lovers of themselves, rather than lovers of God and the people they have promised to serve.

Borderline Personality Disorder · Depression · Inspirational · Love · Writing

Stop the World and Let Me Off!

Sandi Staton

If you could unzip my skin, you would see my wounds. But, unless you’ve walked a mile in my shoes, you will never know how much it hurts.

Sandi Staton

I have episodes when I feel that everyone I love has died. The feeling is so overwhelmingly dark and painful, that I just want to curl up and die. Sharing those feelings with my medical doctor a few years ago is when he diagnosed me with BPD (borderline personality disorder). I had never heard of it before, so I went online to see what it was, and discovered that he was right. And, for the first time in my life, I had a better understanding of my anxieties, fears and phobias, and noise intolerance. Why rejection feels like my heart is in a wood chipper. Why depression never goes to sleep. No matter how hard I try not to go there, I get sucked into the maddening cycle of ups and downs, of feeling okay for a few days, sometimes weeks, then falling back down to the pit of hell, and clawing my way back out again. It’s murderous! A never-ending torment of feeling good and then bad, and then like a demon from hell. I’ve been like this all my life. Social gatherings are sometimes so painful that I avoid them. It’s true, my home life was as dysfunctional as the Hatfield’s and McCoy’s. But through my own blood, sweat, and tears, I am crawling towards recovery. I dove into the murky river of lies and deceit in search of the truth, and a more functional way of life. It took guts. It tore my world apart. It opened my eyes to the brutal, emotional abuse that I endured. And there, in the deepest parts of my battered soul, I saw God. No judgement. No finger pointing. No demented glaring eyes. But, rather, I saw arms open wide, eyes filled with tears, and a smile bigger than the universe. And sobbing in His embracing arms of steel, I felt the depths of His warm and tender love.

I still struggle. I’m still learning and growing. I still take three steps forward and two steps backward. But I will never give up! I know God didn’t create me this way. God doesn’t maim, He heals. God doesn’t hate, He loves. God doesn’t laugh when I fall, He cries and picks me up. He brushes off the dirt of the world, takes hold of my feeble hand, and walks beside me every wavering step of the way.

Isaiah 48:17 NIV
This is what the Lord says . . . your Redeemer, the Holy One of Israel: “I am the Lord your God, who teaches you what is best for you, who directs you in the way you should go.”

Candy · Humor · Inspirational · Writing

Did You Really Have to Go There?

Sandi Staton2 Comments
Daily writing prompt
What’s your favorite candy?
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Sugar runs through my veins. Not blood. SUGAR! I’m a sugar junkie. Malted Milk Balls? I never eat just one. I eat the whole box in one setting. Milk Duds? Caramel Chews? M&M’s? Gummy Bears? Please, stop! Give me a truckload. No, a dump truck load, and I’ll scream for more. If I were a hoarder, my house would be bursting at the seams with candy! Am I diabetic? Nope! I’m just an insane, full-blown addict!

And, since Christmas, I’ve added hot chocolate to the list. Covered with marshmallows. So yummy. Then I ran into a problem. A big problem. I got hooked on the marshmallows! My brain wouldn’t shut up about it. Every time I started doing something, I’d hear, “Sandi. Come and eat us,” till I ended up eating two whole bags full.

I only wish my body liked candy as much as my taste buds do. But, it doesn’t. It suddenly got too big for its britches. Between the bloat and neuropathy, my feet and legs swelled like road kill on the verge of bursting open. I complained. I moaned and groaned. My poor body was suffering, and my brain didn’t care.

I had to make a decision: keep up the insanity, or straighten up. I chose to straighten up. Since this is not my first rodeo, I knew what I had to do. DETOX!

I dislike water as much as I love candy. And intermittent fasting is almost as bad. But, because I’m an all or nothing freak, I do better at eating nothing than going on a stupid, calorie-restricted diet that never works for me. Fasting is a beautiful word compared to the evil, diet word.

Oh, and one other thing. I started walking. Since I quit jogging after seventeen years (another stupid thing I did), I’ve gained weight and lost a ton of muscle strength till it’s difficult walking up just a few steps. And I fall. A lot. And I’m old. Real old (77). But, that’s okay. I can’t fix that, but I can fix what I do with it from here on out. I must admit, though, that since my legs refuse to support me at times, I feared falling in the middle of the road and getting run over if I started a walking program. My son, an insane hiker, marathon runner, and body builder, told me about trekking poles that athletes are using today. I bought a set, tried them out, and fell in love with them. It took me a few walks before I got the hang of it, but I won’t walk without them. Ever!

The moral of my story is this: If you value your body, no matter what your age, take care of it. It’s the only one you have, and it ain’t gettin’ younger! Trust me!

THE END!