The Knoxville Poetry Slam is a fun, welcoming environment for poets and lovers of poetry to gather and support each other.
I have been attending the monthly gatherings at Central Cinema for about six months. I have friends who write and like me love the written word, so I have encouraged them to come out and participate. Their bravery in sharing their work and the supportive folks who attend the poetry readings inspired me to share my work. I have never considered myself a writer or a poet, yet I am always writing.
Writing is how I process, it brings memories to life and it gives me a creative outlet for my thoughts when other mediums are not available to me. Before braving the stage’s bright lights, I tested out a few of my written pieces on my co-workers who encouraged me to sign up at the poetry slam and read. I was both nervous and excited. I think the pieces I chose came across well, so I will share them with you and also the video from the night’s performance. I did mess up a bit but I think it still flowed ok. I am proud of myself for stepping out and doing something out of my comfort zone.
Hey, My name is Charmin
Yes, it is just like the tissue
Yeah, and if you really want to know
It has always been an issue
From the playground
Throughout my whole life
All around
People asking me
Are you squeezable
Thinking it is so cute
To be teasable
When most of the time
I find it highly unreasonable
I learned to take it in stride
To stand out
Not to hide
To be me
Fun, happy
And free
I live my life
by one rule
Don't do to me
What you wouldn't want
done to you
Be honest
Be true
I'll be me
And you, just be you
Treat me right, with quality time
And I can be teasable
And baby, if you've got me
You better believe I'm squeezable
Treat me wrong,
And I'll just say
So long
I have no time
for drama, hate or discontent
Life is to precious
To waste a single moment
So find the good
and grab ahold
Life's an adventure
Let's be bold
Yes, my name is Charmin
Just like the tissue
But you know what
It's no longer an issue
The second piece I read was an introspective bit called All I See.
All I See
So I look at you
And all I see
Is the magnificence
Of what could be
Not as a we,
A you and a me
But as just you
Being truly you
I get the feel
No one has ever
Let you be really REAL
Truly free
It's not too late
God didn't give
You an exipration date
So say what you need
No matter the time of day
You don't have to bleed
From what's been cut away
It is time to be the true
and unfiltered you
Time to shine
Just lay it all on the line
No apologies, or I'm sorry
No regrets, no worries
Pull yourself off the shelf
It's time to show your true self
No judgment awaits
I am a safe space
I long for you to be free
From your chains you have grace
My only hope is
That I am around to see
The magnificence of what
I know YOU will be.
If you are interested in attending or reading at the Knoxville Poetry Slam you can find them on Facebook here.
Thanks for hanging out with me today.
Sharing your story can be one of the most powerful tools to cross the divide that seems too vast to navigate. It builds a bridge that crosses the divide and encourages reconciliation. I believe it is the building block of any good relationship. Be intentional. Listen. Treat people with love and respect. I love to hear other people’s stories. I need that in my life. When we share our stories and find commonality we lay that cornerstone for true connection.
So how does my story build a bridge? I think by being vulnerable and sharing you help others. Someone who needs to know they are not alone, someone who needs to know you can overcome. It will resonate with some and not with others. The people it strikes a chord with may have a similar story, or they may have empathy or are just curious about who I am now. I think the Divine Master puts it before the people who need it and those that don’t scroll on by, and that’s ok. I know I’m not everyone’s cup of tea, you can’t take yourself too seriously.
So here’s a glimpse of my story, I hope it resonates with someone out there.
My younger years were pretty tough, by the time I graduated high school, I had moved 16 times. I lived in a town with no diversity from the time I was 7 until I was 17, I am the illegitimate daughter of a divorcee. I was born in the 1960s before divorce was as common. Coupled with my family issues, my childhood was unstable at best. At times I was considered too good for my raisin’ and other times I was white trash who came from the trailer park. I had a sprinkling of middle class, depending on who I was living with at the time, but those experiences were short-lived. I didn’t have a lot of stability.
Moving all the time as a kid prepared me for life with a military man. My husband served 15 years in the Army. Military life exposed me to a diverse community. The inclusion in the neighborhoods I lived in was beautiful. When spouses deploy, you band together to help each other. Struggle tends to bring people together.
When my husband separated from the Army, we moved to Knoxville. It is now the place I have lived the longest in my entire life. I have been here 21 years. I love it here. When we first moved here I intentionally looked for a community that was diverse. I struggled. I was disheartened. It is said that 11am Sunday is the most segregated time in America. I believe that.
When we moved to our little country house in east Knox County, we visited a black church just down the road, they were so open and welcoming. They showed us so much love. We were “fostered” by a family that now almost 20 years later, still loves me. They have been with me through the good, the bad, and the heartbreaking. There are only a chosen few from my own family that have done that.
Sitting across the kitchen table every Sunday with our newly found “foster family” we shared our stories, who we are, we talked about life, religion, fears, hopes, and dreams. We found we weren’t so different at all.
I found out that poor white food is the same as soul food. I think soul food is a great description of the relationship-building that happens around a kitchen table. It fills your soul in so many ways. Sharing a meal creates a bond. One of the greatest gifts I ever received was when Mama Lee gave me her recipe for mac and cheese. That’s an honor ya’ll. It’s family.
Daddy Lee before he passed away would take my skinny, very white late husband to other churches and introduce him as his son. Both he and my late husband got such a kick out of it. As someone who didn’t have a good family life, this space became sacred. It filled a need that we didn’t even know we had. At Thanksgiving, Easter, Christmas, weddings, and sadly funerals we were always included. They know our story, we know theirs. We built a bridge together in our community. It is a beautiful thing. Even today, I try to spend some quality Sunday time with this family that loves me, even though I am not their blood.
I struggle with the modern church right now, too often I see them building barriers rather than building bridges and it hurts my heart. The church isn’t the only place you can build a bridge. During COVID I think community-built bridges became overgrown and underused and need a little revitalizing. We all need to work on our bridge-building skills.
A study by Michigan State University found that living in isolation can be dangerous for individual health and maintaining diverse relationships is just as important, if not more, than having a large number of relationships. Specifically, we found that individuals with more diverse relationships had a lower risk of mortality and experienced less cognitive and physical decline. Socially isolated adults have a 29 percent higher risk of death compared to those not living alone.
So think about the people you know, do they all look just like you? Do you know people of other ethnicities, other cultures? Do you know people in varying age ranges? Do you know their story? Have you asked? Be observant, ask questions and apologize when you don’t understand something. Be respectful and loving. Be inviting, have lunch with someone new and just get to know them, be genuine, be intentional, and spend some time really listening. You will be amazed at how much you have in common.
Let all bitterness and wrath and anger and clamor and slander be put away from you, along with all malice. Be kind to one another, tender-hearted, forgiving each other just as God in Christ also has forgiven you, (Ephesians 4:31-32)
As often happens my mind picks up small threads and weaves them into something I wasn’t expecting. God has a way of working on me like that. Sometimes the strangest thing will set my wheels in motion and then it gets scribbled down in a journal somewhere and during prayer and meditation, it turns into something else. Eventually, it ends up here for my fine readers to ponder upon.
Recently a friend of mine told a joke, he was then told it was racist. The joke, while maybe in questionable taste, was never intended to be racist. I would never think of this person in that light. His actions do not match the words, I’ll unpack that more as we go.
This is the thread my mind picked up…Has it become so easy for us to judge one another based on a poorly phrased, misspoken, errored, or unwitting statement? Do we discount and discard the person altogether because of something they said? As my boss likes to say, we often throw the baby out with the bathwater.
For 25 years I had a career as a graphic artist. It was a lifetime or two ago before I delved into managing a newspaper or working as a marketing manager or working for a nonprofit. If you could put a logo on something I did the artwork for it, from billboard-sized signs to golf tees.
Creating art for someone else gives you a pretty thick skin. You have to be able to take someone else’s vision and make it come to life. You also have to be able to take their criticism and feedback to give them the design they want, oftentimes leaving your preferences on the cutting room floor. Things happen, instructions get can lost in translation or words get missed in proofreading. When this happens there is usually a conversation where someone has to eat a little crow. And since the customer is always right, it is usually the designer.
I had one such episode. At the time, I worked for a very large printing company in Nashville. We produced ad specialties and had an extensive calendar line for customers to choose from and customize.
I had worked on a very large wall calendar that had multiple advertisements on it for a veterinarian. They ordered 10,000 calendars to be distributed. It was very copy-heavy and graphic-intensive. The piece went through proofreading multiple times, went to the plate maker for printing prep, and finally to the press. Everyone in the company had laid eyes on this piece before it went out the door. And yet….
Two weeks later, I get called into the CEO’s office. The question, “Are you anti-Semitic?” Stunned and dumbfounded, I could only answer, “No, not at all.” My boss, who was Jewish, said “I didn’t think so but I just had to ask.”
At a loss for words, all I could say was, “Why?” He tells me he had a very good customer call him ranting that they couldn’t believe a Jewish company (they were also a Jewish company) would let such slanderous material leave their shop and that we should be ashamed.
My face lost all of its color when I saw the large calendar laid out behind his desk. He pointed to the area and said, “How did this happen?”
In VERY LARGE, very bold type was the name, address, and phone number of the veterinarian. Instead of the state being New Jersey, it said Jew Jersey. I was mortified. I wanted the floor to open up and swallow me.
My boss, being the kind gentle soul that he was, put his hand on my shoulder and said, “I know you did not do this on purpose, the words do not match your actions, you are kind and caring, this is not who you are. But, I have to tell the client what happened and the company will have to reprint all of these calendars at no charge.”
I knew exactly what happened. I had been interrupted and when my hands went back to the keyboard, my right hand was one row higher on the keyboard and not on the home keys. I showed him on his keyboard how it happened and he was relieved it was such a simple mistake.
I have never forgotten that mistake, nor the words he spoke to me about the mistake. My words did not match my actions, it was not who I was. There have been many times I have misspoken, and said the wrong thing at the wrong time, my words came from ignorance. However, as I have lived, I have learned. We all have lessons to learn. I am so thankful that the people who were willing to walk alongside me did not discard me because of my ignorance and allowed me to learn from them.
Too often, we are not willing to meet someone where they are and spend time learning who they are and realizing we can learn from them. We throw out quick judgments and cut people off before giving them a chance. We cast blame, and tell them what they should be doing, or how they should be thinking. Pressing forward without listening or learning. We think we have all the answers or know what’s best without truly understanding the situation. That behavior gets you nowhere and builds walls rather than tearing them down and making progress.
It is not until we know a person and are willing to walk alongside them without judgment that can we see if their actions and words align. Leading child psychiatrist, Dr. James Comer said, “No significant learning occurs without significant relationship.”
I grew up in a very judgmental home where there were few significant relationships. Sadly, there are times when people’s actions do match their words. People who are hurting hurt people and distance themselves to avoid more pain. It becomes a self-fulfilling prophecy of a solitary existence. They often feel they don’t measure up, so no one else can. This can make relationships impossible because there is no flexibility, no grace, no compromise, only negativity, and the need for you to bend to their will. I have found those people I have to love from a distance, they rob me of my peace and well-being. You have to find your own balance. You can not plant seeds in concrete, nothing takes root until the seed finds a crack and even then the seed struggles to grow.
Everyone has a bias of one kind or another, no one is without sin, and we all fall short. Now, the question is, can we offer the same grace that is given to us? That is a hard task to do at times and sometimes we have to do it from a distance and know that God is in control.
Now, I have to admit, I had one other terribly memorable typo in my career. I worked for a company that designed collegiate wear and I did the artwork for a women’s track team in West Virginia, I’ll let you ponder what that typo could have been and what the ensuing conversation was like.
Now, in honor of how this train of thought got started and for old time’s sake, I thought I’d close with a joke for my graphic arts and proofreading friends…
Helvetica and Times New Roman walk into a bar. “Get out of here!” Shouts the bartender, “We don’t serve your type.”
The title is a line from Shakespeare’s Hamlet, act 1 scene 3. I do love a good Willy Shakes play and prose. I also love the wisdom in this quote. Throughout the tumultuous portions of my life, I ignored my own inner voice and wound up worse for it.
As I strive to become an updated version of myself, I have fallen into familiar patterns from my past long ago. A time when my thoughts weren’t clear and my heart was troubled. Ignoring that small inner voice lead me down a path of self-destruction by overshadowing myself, and leaning into codependent relationships.
Speeding forward, without thinking of the outcomes, was a common theme of my youth. And now, I find myself making those same mistakes. I got carried away, I thought I was older and hopefully wiser, but here I am. I know I can’t do that anymore, even as much as I want to feel young and alive again. I also want to be responsible and secure. Those things seem to be at odds.
I have had to step back, step away, look inward, and ask myself some hard questions about who I am, what I want, and where I want to be in my life. I have to remind myself that there is nothing wrong with finding those answers before I press forward. Romantic love isn’t the goal for my life. That still, small voice inside me says there is more. Am I listening?
Take the time to listen to what that small, still voice is telling you. Quiet all the chatter, all the outside noise, just listen.
It’s uncomfortable, it’s hard to sit in silence and listen. I forget that prayer isn’t supposed to be a one-way street, with me lifting up a litany of needs or wants. God gave me two ears to listen twice as much as I talk for a reason.
What I am finding is the little things that bother me, are telling me something. My soul feels the uncomfortable places down deep and sends up red flags that require my attention.
The things that bother me aren’t the fault of the other person. They are who they are. I am not here to force change on anyone, just as I don’t want anyone to force change on me. Change happens, good or bad, it is inevitable. Who I was 10 years ago is not the person I am today, nor will the person I am in 10 years be the same as today.
What troubles my soul is what steals my joy and by contrast what brings me joy. I have to weigh those costs. I can’t hold close to that which robs my joy. I have fought a hard, lifelong battle to be joyful. I can’t settle for less. I can’t settle for less because someone else wants or needs me to. I can’t settle for less even though it might hurt someone else.
If I settle for less it is hurting me. If I give, and lose myself, what have I gained? I refuse to become a shell of who I am to fit into a mold I don’t want. I won’t do that. I won’t let my joy be stripped away slowly, for anyone. Lifting someone up while you are drowning, doesn’t give you life, in most cases, it drowns both of you.
You may ask, what strips the joy from me? What keeps me from being true to myself? While that list is an ongoing learning curve, I have found that I do it to myself. Most of the time I don’t realize it until much later. As the saying goes, hindsight is 20/20.
It’s that thing I should have said and didn’t because I didn’t want to come off as nagging, bit**y, angry, upset, or whatever.
It is letting things slide, to avoid a tirade or an uncomfortable conversation.
It is not saying what I really mean because I am saving someone’s feelings.
It is knowing something doesn’t feel right and remaining quiet.
It is being something I detest, passive-aggressive.
When I do these things, suddenly I look in the mirror and I don’t like the person I am becoming.
I strive to be a person who is true, and honest, and whole. I need that for myself. I may never get there, but I’m trying. I have gone from being a “we” to just “me.” I think I was good at being a “we.” Now, I have to become good at being a “me.” Finding me. Liking me. Loving me. All those take work. It is not a straight path.
At first, I thought a romantic relationship was what I needed to be valuable. I am finding out I have been valuable all along and I don’t need a relationship to define me or what I want out of life.
It is not about deserving more or wanting more, it’s about being true to who I am and who I want to be. It feels selfish, maybe because I have never made a conscious decision to stand for what I need to feel whole. It’s about maintaining my independence and not defining myself through a relationship. I am finding that I need space.
I have spent much of the last few years feeling invisible. I’ve been longing to be seen, to feel attractive, to connect and feel alive again, to have deep conversations that connect me to a person and make me feel like someone understands. It is a powerful thing when someone listens and connects. I think everyone needs that on some level. I am learning that level doesn’t have to be romantic. I am blessed to have a great tribe of friends and people who love me and pour into my life on so many levels.
Romance is a great and wonderful thing, but it is not what I need right now. And, that’s ok.
Please raise your hand if you are a fan of online dating…anyone…anyone? Oh, I see you scammer in the back. Please exit now, we don’t need your kind here.
So, I can’t help but laugh when I think about what it is like to be dating at my age. When I first began this journey, I took it to heart when someone didn’t return my like or made a rude comment about my size, my hair, or just my profile in general. I soon learned that every part of this is an adventure. The adventure is not a pretty fairy tale and there is no prince charming to kiss the sleeping princess awake and live happily ever after. What is it? A comedy of errors. Honestly, I think it is hilarious.
You write these profiles so people will like you. Hopefully, drawing the moth to the flame. We all want to think we are the flame in this analogy. Hot, right? In some cases that may be true, in others, it is more like flies to sh**.
During the whole experience, everyone is trying to look social media perfect and no one is who they say they are. It isn’t until later you find out who is the flame and who is the sh**. And so far, I’ve seen a lot more sh**.
So everyone is telling people what they are looking for, I want this or I want that, blah, blah, blah…Their wishlist for the perfect relationship. There is no such thing. All relationships take work and communication. All my life I heard the expression, “wish in one hand and crap in the other and see which one fills up faster.” Wishing for the perfect relationship is like that to me.
Honestly, 29 years ago I would have never chosen the man I married. He was none of the things I had on my perfect relationship wishlist. NONE. OF. THEM. Yet, he turned out to be Mr. Efing Wonderful, not perfect, but wonderful. Why? Because we got each other on a level, that prior was unknown to either of us.
It was more important for me to learn from my past mistakes and know what I DID NOT want in my life ever again than it was for me to have the wishlist for the perfect relationship. If we don’t learn from our mistakes we are doomed to repeat them. Sometimes when the same thing happens over and over, you have to look inward and deal with yourself. Sometimes it is unhealthy and you have to know the warning signs, so you don’t repeat the mistakes. Sometimes you just don’t know what you don’t know, until it is too late.
So to avoid all the past chaos of my life I asked this man a series of questions about all the things I knew I could not bear to live with, and I will be damned if he didn’t answer EVERY question right. But by the same token, we had deep conversations about why I asked the questions and why he answered them and then he asked me his series of questions and we had conversations about why I answered them the way I did. It all came down to being willing to communicate openly and honestly with each other.
I am the type of person that takes every experience as a learning opportunity. If I have a question about something, I ask. If there is something I’m curious about, I ask. If there is something I don’t understand I will ask for an explanation. I learned a long time ago not to waste my time and energy guessing.
Obviously, that is not how things are done in this day and age, because I do not see a lot of open and honest communication happening anywhere online. I don’t know if that’s what’s wrong with me, or what’s wrong with the system. Enter the strange lady who speaks her mind and asks strange questions, it freaks people out a little. And boom, I’m ghosted.
Great relationships take work, and if you have one, keep working at it. It’s rough out here, people are just flat-out difficult to figure out. So married people, people in a committed relationship, let this be a cautionary tale, if you have someone who loves you, accepts you for who you are and you get to snuggle with them, DO NOT take it for granted. Things can change in an instant. Let the people you care about know you care.
As for me, I’m done with online dating for a while. I’m just going to keep on being the wild, weird, wonderful me, when and if something happens, it happens. God has better plans for me than I can even imagine, so I’ll leave it to Him.
On a Roll with Charmin 