This is an impromptu workday collaboration between myself and MeeJong. I started and we alternated stanzas with her finishing:

There’s no way to win depression ping pong

unless we both find a way

to stop playing

We could steal each other’s paddle

But then what happens when we are up the creek

Maybe we can paddle together,

Two lunatics rowing against the current,

Swimming against the tide,

Burning flames beneath the rain

Taking turns carrying the brunt of the pain

And evening the weight across our load bearing psyches

Or we could just find a new game

Like happiness tennis

And launch balls of happiness at each other

Trying not to watch them sail by

Knocking yellow smiley faces back and forth

Or clown balls full of laughter

With big red noses

And bushy psychedelic rainbow hair

Trick squirt roses spraying sunshine instead of water

And hand buzzers that jolt you with joy

Sending waves of ecstasy through your body

And putting one of those smiles on your face:

The kind that extends out past your cheeks

And reaches out to those around you

The kind that lightens your eyes

Your soul

Your heart

And brings dreams to light,

evaporates sorrows

like dewdrops on a hot day

and brings life,

glorious glowing life

Refilling our cups with light instead of dark

Regenerating that lost creative spark

falling through nightmares

like draining flower petals

through spiderweb fingers

spiraling into the cosmos

weak and unforgiving

mouth open in silence

eyelashes plucked piece by piece

skin slipping off like dust

clattering remains tumbling through open space

void

then, wind burns your ears

teeth fitted back into place with a needle and thread

darkness under your tongue and between your eyes

falling

avoiding the lampshade

timing the seconds with the sand sliding off your skin

rewinding

all candles burn blue underneath

and the void consumes it:

every last color and every last word.

who i was

is slipping through the void

like a silk dress

gliding across wood floors

at midnight

stained pink by the washed out blood

of expectations

ghosts of who i used to be

fleeting glimpses fading from reality

the darkness of my memory

shutting out who i used to be

rewriting my memories to fit

who i am.

who i am

is dancing in the void

thankful for the darkness

that shrouds me,

my last defense

against the discomforts

of reality

that i am tired of being forced

to acknowledge.

i am prepared to lose myself

in the delusion

rather than facing

who i will be.

who i will be

is crawling out of the void

blinking away the sunlight from my eyes

and staring into pale blue skies,

reveling in my newfound freedom

the oasis

that i am holding myself back from.

i will escape

the void

eventually

but for now

i'm still

slipping through the void

waiting for it to spit me out

into the light at the end

of the tunnel.

trembling,

like water in a glass on a train,

railway sickness

a little too close to my brain

it's in the sky,

clouds roaring their warning,

ground shaking,

choking dust clouds forming

melodramatic,

when it's all in my head,

hold it in,

quivering thin as thread

close the door

or your eyes

hide under mismatched bed spreads

leach the feelings out

laying in a pool of your own dread

still trembling,

rocking with the earth beneath your feet,

seawater nausea

slipping down into the deep

until

we're clinging to the window light,

reminding ourselves we're still here,

sinking our toes into the carpet weave,

drawing the light beams more near

a shiver

to run through your bones,

and the sun and moon to wink it away,

a breath to calm the nerves,

and the steadiness to finally stay.

I grew up in a fairly conservative Christian family. I think every family wedding I’ve ever attended, the topic of “wives, submit to your husbands” was mentioned somewhere during the ceremony. My aunts, my female cousins, my male cousins’ wives (I have a big family) were all lauded for ‘submitting’ to their husbands.

I remember asking my mom about it once. My mom is not the submissive type. She does what she thinks is right and will speak her mind, no matter what anyone says. As a kid, I saw her as the head of the household rather than my dad. My dad was the breadwinner since my mom was a stay-at-home mom, but my mom did literally everything else, and I never really saw her ask my dad’s opinion on any of her decisions.

When I asked her, she told me that she did believe that women should submit to their husbands, and when I pointed out that I didn’t think she behaved that way, she told me that she thought she did. She described discussing things like high-value purchases and big decisions with my dad, and only going through with them if they both agreed. To me, that didn’t sound like submission; it sounded like a partnership.

At the time, I didn’t like the idea of submission. I was a proud young woman. I had only dated one man before my husband, but I spent much of my youth as “one of the guys” in the various groups I was involved in, and I always felt like I had to prove that I fit in. I had to prove that I was as strong as them, as tough as them, as independent as them.

And then I started dating my husband, who shows his love through acts of service. I was baffled by this man who insisted on holding the door for me. He would even walk to the passenger side door to open it for me before closing it after I was comfortably seated and walking to the other side of the car to get in the driver’s seat. It was probably the only thing we ever really fought about. I was too proud to let this man do things for me just because I was a woman.

It took me far too long to realize that he wasn’t doing things for me because it was “chivalrous.” He was doing things for me because he loves me. He was putting me first.

I think that’s when I realized what submission should be. If you look at a couple practicing submission, I don’t think it should look like one person bowing before the other. Instead, it should look like both people showing each other kindness, thinking of the other person before themselves. It should look like a partnership.

I'm still not terribly fond of that scripture about wives submitting to their husbands, but I think that’s more because of how some people interpret it than the scripture itself. Because the other half of that scripture tells men to love their wives as Jesus loved the church, and Jesus died for the church. He put the church first before his own life. The thing that made Jesus so different from the other spiritual leaders of his time was that he was a servant leader. He showed others his love by serving them.

There are still a lot of things that I don’t agree with my conservative family about, and I probably don’t see this topic the same way they do, but after being married to my wonderful husband for ten years, I no longer see submission as a weakness, like I once did. It’s not a strength either, at least not for an individual, though I suppose it can be considered a strength for a couple. It’s an act of love.