Before I Was A Ghost

I stopped paying for my old blog years ago. It was the first time I started sharing any writing.  emmabush.com  Because before I was a ghost I was Emma...am mE.....just someone trying to be. I don't know why I went to emmabush.com today.... but it's still there....I stopped paying for it years ago...but apparently my... Continue Reading →

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E

What's wrong with me? Said the E. She wasn't feeling well, she was sure that if grace was a place she fell and she had landed in the depths of hell. Poor E! When she saw she was on her knees What happened to her? It was all such a blur but now all she... Continue Reading →

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Healing

My Ghost Speaks

The path to healing
is a windy uphill road
because the art of feeling
is painted with uncomfortable.

I had a texting conversation with my friend Dwayne this afternoon.  I met Dwayne several years back at an MMA gym where he allowed me to step in and volunteer with his kid’s class.  He has recently gone out of his way to help me get back to standing by not only hooking me up with a job, but with a vehicle.  It’s been a team effort, getting me back to standing, and God bless my friends and family for their love and patience.  Life is like Pacman, if you dare stop, it will eat you up and spit you out a ghost.

And this ghost here?  Speaks…or is learning to.  It’s been a lifelong process.  But wellness is NOT a destination.  To arrive suggests you stop moving, and to stop moving…

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My Mother

(Pic taken 1979 (a year before a I showed up) Mom and my older brody, Kevin Jay.) Living next to my mother right now...has been healing.  We don't speak much, of anything.  But some days we do.  We sit down and discuss the things that molded us, and that paved our stories. As I'm going... Continue Reading →

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21. Facing My Giants (3 of 3)

Continued from Disassociate – Facing Giants Part 2 ….Chuck looked the same. He still wore the same style hat, the same style clothing, only now I find him without his mustache. I always hated mustaches…they always reminded me of him… “Hi, Chuck. How have you been?” I asked. I could feel my spine straighten. I could... Continue Reading →

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Fish Bowl

I had a dream one night that gave me a deep deep fright Felt like a I just might be wound so tight I'll explode. I've reached my threshold... The thing bout this dream is it kept on happening. Had to see it and repeat and repeat it left me feeling all defeated and incomplete... Continue Reading →

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6. My Garden

Home. Your roots, your foundation. No matter the wind that batters, nor the storms that have shaken, nothing, not even time, from your memory and heart, can it be taken. I think of myself as a garden.  I think of all of us as gardens.  We are born to caretakers and gardeners that we are... Continue Reading →

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Snowball

SNOWBALL by Emma Bush 2015 Once I was nothing more than a drop of rain
, up high in the sky
, yet to feel the pain of change... just a drop dripping and falling down towards that impressive ground, down below
, where I watched all the other raindrops go. Perhaps I don’t know as much as... Continue Reading →

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Grandma Glenna Turner

"Rich people have maids, poor people have children." Mother to my mother...Grandma Turner.... Things I heard often growing up.... "Children are to be seen, not heard." "Stop making noise just to make noise." "Sticks and stones will break my bones but words will never hurt me."    

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The Nielsen Super Hero’s

My mother is so amazing. When we were little my mom made me, my cousins Erik and Bjorn, and my brother Kevin capes out of bathroom towels...she sewed our initials in them, and tied it at the neck with a simple button... Those capes were all we needed for hours and hours of fun off... Continue Reading →

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Lost Fish

I was never good at speaking it was always a frustrating thing to me. Uncle Louie described me as standoffish, back when I was a kid... but I was just a lost fish, scared of other in the sea. I observed the others. I looked up to my brother and I thank God for my... Continue Reading →

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Daddy Issues

I love with my mind, with my body, and with my soul. My sex is my soul, something I dare to share with someone else. Whether they use it or abuse it or love it and rise about it is something else. I thought love was real Not just a fairy tale fed to appeal... Continue Reading →

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He Breaks

He breaks, he breaks, he breaks! There’s only so much a man can take. SO MUCH HATE! So angry his hands shake, fists clenches. The ground quakes in the wake of his walk. Spit flies when he talks. Tight grip, his rage has been awakened! Shirt rips, no more of him will be taken! He’s... Continue Reading →

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The Tale of the Little Girl and the Cave

Hello-o-o... Echo? Where did you go-o-o... Oh, owe, o. A little girl had been on a journey through a foreign land that she had been afraid to navigate alone, though that is exactly how she found herself.  She tip-toed around obstacles, afraid to disrupt anyone.  She had asked for help once, but the man had... Continue Reading →

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Toxic Love

My cat Simeon is love with my neighbor's cat...at first she wouldn't give him the time of day, but now when he sees her she will kiss him for a second, then smack his face, and something like what happened in the video below transpires.  Bwahahaha.  Not so different that humans. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qA7TWWdYuKY

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Healing

The path to healing is a windy uphill road because the art of feeling is painted with uncomfortable. I had a texting conversation with my friend Dwayne this afternoon.  I met Dwayne several years back at an MMA gym where he allowed me to step in and volunteer with his kid's class.  He has recently... Continue Reading →

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Right Handed

When I write with my right hand? I can write right.... It comes out just fine like snow on Alpine shining bright in the moonlight. For a minute you may even have to squint! You may think the moon is sunlit? But it isn't. Is it? My left eye can wink and I don't even... Continue Reading →

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Tree Fort

Written in 1997 My brother and I took hammers, piles of wood leftover from Dad's woodshed, nails, tape measures, and saws. All were the foundation of our creation, youth being the age of limitless possibilites the giant maple tree the object of our creativity. We began with nails, simply pounding lumber against the flesh of... Continue Reading →

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Near Death Experience

If you haven't seen the OA I highly recommend it.  I love Brit Marling's creativity...I love a creative mind :)...she's a sister from another mother...every since her movie Another Earth where her character walked out into the snow to attempt a peaceful sleep/suicide I liked her.  I saw that scene and felt validated or relief...like... Continue Reading →

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Hope :)

That devil on my shoulder Had become bolder as I got older He used to come to me in my sleep In nightmares that’s seemed More a warning than a dream “Read that again, Emma.” Allen said. He was in the kitchen preparing a snack while I sat in the living room and read to him... Continue Reading →

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Facing My Giants 2 – Dissociate

Rear-view Mirror My past is right behind me I can feel its breath on my neck I can’t run forever my legs are tired I’m out of breath. So afraid of what would happen should I stop and face it I keep running, keep running hoping time will erase it. Story Continued from Part 1.... Continue Reading →

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Facing My Giants 1 – The Coffee Shop

Your face the familiar face that erased everything I know @@@@@  Post from an event in December 2016 - "Does a man named Chuck get his coffee here?"  I asked the Barista across the counter as she handed me my change and I threw it in her tip jar. "Yes."  She said, her face suddenly... Continue Reading →

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Little Girl Lost

Little girl, stop! Look in the mirror. Look hard and concentrate, you’ll be able to see her. See the woman staring back, on the verge of giving up? That’s you, little girl, that’s you, just older, after years in this world corrupt. Remind her! Remind her who she is! She is so much more, though... Continue Reading →

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Grandma Glenna Turner

what phrases did you grow up with?

My Ghost Speaks

“Rich people have maids, poor people have children.”

Mother to my mother…Grandma Turner….

Things I heard often growing up….

“Children are to be seen, not heard.”

“Stop making noise just to make noise.”

“Sticks and stones will break my bones but words will never hurt me.”

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3. Delete

Wow, dad just brought my box of stuff to mom’s. And I decided to save this blog, but I won’t start writing again until I’ve caught myself up! Because it has been intense! Maybe my past and my present and my future are all colliding. Tense. (Thank’s “siri”)

My Ghost Speaks

I have a delete problem
,
I have wanted to walk away.
I don’t want to see
,
what’s in front of my face.
I’m a problematic
,
asthmatic anxiety attack.
Someone took from me.
I’m taking it back.
But best not fuck with
what’s been fucked with
,
because what used to flinch
,
now speaks with words
like she speaks with her fists.

I do have a delete problem.  I get embarrassed sometimes, when I share my heart or my soul or my journey, I overshare and then sit here alone wondering why I exposed myself or allowed myself to be so naked.  Those of you who used to read emmabush.com, my first blog, where I first began to open up on personal topics, like depression, anxiety, substance abuse, and life post trauma… you probably wonder where all that I wrote went?

Apparently I saved it to a hard drive…  I DID NOT…

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He Breaks

wrote this bout my estranged husband.

My Ghost Speaks

He breaks,
he breaks,
he breaks!
There’s only so much a man can take.
SO MUCH HATE!
So angry his hands shake,
fists clenches.
The ground quakes in the wake of his walk.
Spit flies when he talks.
Tight grip,
his rage has been awakened!
Shirt rips,
no more of him will be taken!
He’s through with it!
Like a caged animal,
being poked and prodded.
What was once down trodden
has now hit his bottom.
He’s lost all control,
no outlet
and nowhere to go.
Just a cog in a wheel,
never taught to feel,
he has a monster inside
and its coming to surface.
He has no place to hide,
he’s struggling for purpose.

myghost speaks 2014

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Tree Fort

My Ghost Speaks

Written in 1997

My brother and I took hammers,
piles of wood leftover from Dad’s woodshed,
nails,
tape measures,
and saws.
All were the foundation of our creation,
youth being the age of limitless possibilites
the giant maple tree the object
of our creativity.
We began with nails,
simply pounding lumber against
the flesh of it’s own kin.
Building upwards ten feet,
we placed the first platform,
ascending five feet higher,
the second.
Finally, after house of stretching precariously,
of leaning over ledges at great heights,
of hammers penetrating nails into branches,
our final platform was constructed.
There, thirty feet above the ground,
our childish goal was achieved.
Such satisfaction!
We were invincible up there,
I knew that I was safe in that tree,
not scared by the troubles of my world.
Hours were spent enjoying the view,
reading books that had more
pictures than words,
playing Swiss Family Robinson,

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