The Trouble with Love

Posted on by sereichert

Well, well, well, if it isn’t a day away from that ridiculous, capitalist exchange day. You know, the one where we exchange affection for $8 cards and a box of (probably last year’s) chocolates to prove we are enamored with one another. Valentine’s Day has become a symbol for showy displays and, in some part, single shaming. I’m always heartened when I hear of people celebrating in counter culture ways, because if anyone needs a big middle finger to the face, it’s capitalism and ‘traditional’ heterosexual misogyny.

So, I’m against love, right? Not in the slightest. Hell most of my writing career exists because I believe in and ache for, and get excited by love. But that doesn’t have anything to do with fancy jewelry or a hearty case of diabetes in a heart shaped box. Love is about connection. It’s about support and reliability. It’s about physical affection (not necessarily sex) and putting forth the effort to remember what they take in their coffee. It’s about hearing the exhaustion in their voice and ordering dinner in. It’s about sending silly memes that remind them of you. It’s a million different things that don’t necessarily have to put money into the corporate cesspool. If you’ve never read one of my books, the ongoing theme of them is that Love is something to be worked on and perfected. Love makes you want to be a better person. Love carries you past the hardships and centers you in the storm.

I’m not against love. I’m against my feelings being taken hostage and only released if I pay their fee. I’m against having to ‘prove’ affection with overpriced flowers or the anxiety of ‘choosing’ the right gift. Let me sleep in on a Saturday and bring me coffee in bed…that’s love. When I’m cranky and raging, kiss my forehead, tell me I’m right and the world is a fucking mess, and go take a warm bath, that you’ll clean up dinner. Be open and honest about your emotions and trust me enough to love you no matter what.

I urge you on the upcoming holiday to think differently about how you express your love. Write a poem, or if you’re not a poet-y type, find a poem and send it. Pick them up a coffee or tea on your way. Support a local book store and take them there for a date. Put on their favorite movie and sling a frozen pizza in the oven. Hold them when they cry. Turn off their light for them when they fall asleep reading. Give them the first cookie out of the oven. Clean up the cat vomit so they don’t have to…these are the things that make up love.

On a larger scale, I urge you to think more expansively about love. Stand up for others. Use your privilege and any means necessary to protect human rights, and the constitution. Protect science, and education. Fight for living wage, and lower cost medical services, adopt a rescue pet, donate to the food bank, donate blood, hell-donate a kidney, don’t allow disadvantaged voices to be silenced in any room you’re in. Fight for equal pay and stand between bullies without warrants and people just trying to live a better life. Join the resistance, support the National Park Service, and keep reminding Google that it’s “The Gulf of Mexico”. There are a million ways to show your love, that don’t need to put money into the pockets of corporations who’ve sided with a traitor to democracy. That makes up the larger love that we all need so desperately right now.

Happy V-Day.

Poetry 1-23-2025

Posted on by sereichert

It’s a tumultuous time. An era where its hard to trust information, its hard to have privacy, and its even harder to envision a world where we can be a functioning community again. These are the days that try good hearts. You are not alone. We are all in some phase of struggle. We are all clawing our way up. I love you. I see you. Do what you can, to be kind to yourself and others today. Don’t give up. 

Love Me Enough

I've tried to breathe it away
this constant ache 
a hunger, not satiated

I've tried to busy it away
with lists 
and checked boxes

I've tried running it away
until my knees were torn
and my vertebra grew together

I've tried laughing it away
your darkest friend
is always the most funny

I've tried writing it away
harsh words and compassionate pages
like arms to enfold, or choke

I've tried drinking it away,
until all I lost were words
and years with my children

I've tried cutting it away
sharp stings and
barely hidden red bracelets

hoping someone would notice
but even when they did
no one loved me enough to stop me

I'm trying to love me enough to stop me
I'm trying, this time
to love it away

And I'm learning
that means
feeding myself on breath
sitting through it in stillness
running headlong into the fire
allowing the storm to laugh through me
and writing only the truth
watering my brain like a garden
holding my body close like a child
Soothing the scars and 
loving the woman who survived long enough
to stand in love now

Poetry 4-20-23

Posted on by sereichert

Today I’m going in for a root canal, after a rough week both personally and professionally. So…while I’m ‘enjoying’ all of my experiences, please enjoy this.

Let it seep beneath your clothes, let it draw out memories, a needle to the dark blood, and wash you clean again. Let it remind you that you are still here. A breath at a time. Through all the pain, the rough days, the personal and professional losses and gains. You’re still here.

So this isn’t a poem for the broken hearted
it is not for those who were left behind
or ghosted
or dumped
or abused
or disregarded

This is a poem for those who watched
as another soul walked away
or preferred their silence to truth
or was released from another person’s life
faced pain at their hands
or were simply ignored
into nothingness…

You are the warriors of time
you, who have felt the sting
of heartbreak 
and disappointments
revealed as new skin 
while hope lay, a the shed skeleton
in the dirt

you are the carriers of grief
and the bodies made of scars
and you have lived through
every burning cut
and every lonely night

This is not for the soul they thought 
they broke,
this is for the you that survived

I will not preach from some high tower
that you are stronger for it
that you are braver because of it
that you are a better person
a heart bigger, with cracks to let the light in

But I will tell you what I know

You survived.

You packed up your heart and your mind
and you moved on
You accepted their silence
you treated your wounds and closed the door
you started paying attention to yourself 
when they no longer did

and that carries weight
self determination
and the ability to move past
the fickle and soft-seated lies,
of a love always perched to flee 
the very second things got hard

Your feet remain grounded
and you endured

You heart is a seasoned warrior
and it may never let another in

but it doesn’t need to...

It might not even have the space

because in their absence
 
beyond the echoes of their abuse
the pain of their mistreatment,
you’ve filled your heart,
with the unfaltering love
of yourself

they can’t ever move back in

there isn’t room any more.

Letters To Ourselves

Posted on by sereichert

Of few things I am certain.

Change is inevitable.

Babies and puppies will always cause some kind of visceral, deep rooted reaction.

You need a night sky, devoid of city lights and full of stars to feel your appropriate size.

Fewer sounds are more calming than a river flowing, rain hitting your rooftop, or a dog snoring nearby.

Nothing tastes as good as when your grandmother made it.

Nothing comforts like the right pair of pajama pants, and

procrastinating cleaning the bathroom always takes longer than actually cleaning it.

Time is finite and infinite. It’s a construct without construction and we know so little in our tiny human brains about what happens, how the universes expand, and where our consciousness ends up in the grand scheme of things that we are little more than specs of stardust in a grand swirling ocean of time and space.

You always discover these things too late: that you’ve loved, that you’ve lost, and that you wished you would have tried harder.

We will always blame ourselves for things we cannot control,

We will always forgive others more often than they probably deserve.

Every love song written is written about you and how you deserve love.

I know that when you start loving yourself, truly, you start asking for what you deserve and

this is how we learn our worth, internally, not externally.

And letters that I write to myself, in the darkest nights of my soul are always the messiest, truest words I ever speak. True for the moment. Even if it is hard and ugly truth.

Writing, from pen to paper, is a line of truth between that infinite, unaware conscious and the swirling cosmos of existence.

So my exercise for you today, dear writer, is not to journal.

It is not to blog, or pound out letters aiming for a word count.

Sit with your breath for a solid five minutes,

just your breath,

let the chaos that you’ve been pushing to the back of your mind with endless tasks, fill the silent spaces between inhalation and exhalation.

When all that’s left, is the ocean pulling in and rushing out

and your weight is heavy against the solid seat of the earth

…write

Write about what is running torrents in your mind.

Write your worries, your fears, your wins and losses.

Write down the set backs and jump starts and the hopes.

Write a love letter to yourself.

Show patience, understanding and care as you would if you were writing to your child or someone you love beyond bounds.

Be kind.

Be honest.

Be true.

Call yourself sweet things, like Love and Darling and Starshine.

Be hopeful.

Then, tuck it away.

Get on with your work, see if the chaos has settled just a bit.

Plough ahead, and check off that to-do list…

Until one day you stumble upon that letter.

And remember…that there is truth in you.

There are words and brilliant ideas, and hope.

And you belong in the world,

That you are loved.

Remember.