Childhood Emotional Wounds

Activity becomes the anesthetic  

~ DC ~ Leave a comment

Activity Becomes the Anesthetic
(for the dismissive avoidant)


Busy is not a badge; it is a place to hide,
You call it “getting things done,” but it is just another ride.
Your calendar overflows; every hour has a name,
You say you’re just “being productive,” but you are dodging the same shame.
You answer every email; your phone is never still,
You tell yourself it’s “just work,” but it keeps you from what you feel.
You clean the house in circles; each task becomes a shield,
You call it “keeping order,” but it is how your heart stays sealed.
Motion feels like progress; your brain lights up and sings,
You live inside the dopamine, avoiding deeper things.
You are not just building a life; you are escaping quiet space,
You say you like the action, yet you’re fleeing your own face.
Silence is a mirror; you turn away and run,
You call it “staying busy,” but it’s hiding from the sun.
The real questions wait in stillness; they knock but you don’t stay,
You tell yourself “not now,” and you push them all away.
Activity is anesthetic; it numbs what aches inside,
You call it “being strong,” but it’s just another hide.
You fear the empty hour; it feels too wide, too real,
You say you “hate wasting time,” yet it’s contact you won’t feel.
Accountability is heavy; you shift it to the day,
You call it “bad timing,” and you file the truth away.
You keep your heart at arm’s length; the distance feels like air,
You say you “just need space,” but it’s terror you won’t share.
You downplay every longing; you label care as need,
You call it “overreacting,” when love asks you to heed.
You wear cool detachment softly; it looks calm, almost wise,
You call it “being rational,” while emotion slowly dies.
You turn from tender offers; you mask the sting with grace,
You say “I’m just not ready,” and you leave an empty place.
You skip the deeper talking; you say you don’t have time,
You call it “keeping focused,” and avoid your inner crime.
You minimize the rupture; you treat the hurt as small,
You say “it’s not a big deal,” while their tears absorb it all.
You act like love is simple; you keep it in your head,
You call it “low drama” living, yet your heart stays underfed.
You compare pain to others; you claim yours isn’t bad,
You say “it could be worse,” and deny the hurt you’ve had.
You do not lack all feeling; you feel the hidden burn,
You call it “pressure,” “stress” or “noise,” but it’s the shame you will not turn.
You learned that need is danger; you treat closeness as a threat,
You say “I’m fine on my own,” though your body won’t forget.
You carry old refusals; you pack them into stone,
You call it “moving forward,” but you never grieve alone.
You split care into tasks; you turn affection into plans,
You say “I’ll help by doing,” and you keep from joining hands.
You guard against dependence; you fear the asking gaze,
You call it “healthy boundaries,” while you stand outside the maze.
You know your patterns clearly; the evidence is plain,
You say “this is just who I am,” yet that sentence holds your chain.
You feel the quiet panic; it hums when someone stays,
You call it “needing freedom,” and you step out of their ways.
You turn love into a project; you treat trust like a test,
You say “show me you’re different,” but you never bring your best.
You move from talk to action; you jump from depth to chores,
You call it “staying grounded,” as you lock emotional doors.
You feel the weight of presence; you squirm when eyes are kind,
You say “I’m just not used to this,” and retreat back to your mind.
You are not broken, only guarded; your story made you numb,
You call it “just my nature,” yet the truth still wants to come.
The boldest move is stopping; to sit when nothing calls,
You say you “don’t do stillness,” but that is where the mask falls.
In that empty quiet hour, accountability appears,
It does not come to punish; it comes to hold your fears.
Shame is not a verdict; it is a wound in need of light,
You call it “weakness,” “failure,” yet it softens when in sight.
Activity is anesthetic; it keeps the ache at bay,
But every small, brave pause you take lets healing find a way.
You are more than your avoidance; more tender than you show,
When you gently turn toward silence, your guarded heart can grow.
This is not a condemnation; it is a map, not a wall,
You are the one who suffers most when you will not hear the call

RSP

…

DCG

Screenshot

Busy is not a badge of honor. It is the most socially acceptable place to hide. Look closer at the constant motion, the endless tasks, the full calendar you complain about but secretly love. Most people are not busy building a life. They are busy escaping the silence where the real questions live. Here is the uncomfortable truth. Motion feels like progress, so your brain rewards it the same way. You answer emails to avoid the scary work. You clean the house to dodge the dream that might fail. Activity becomes an anesthetic. As long as you are running, you never have to ask if you are running in the right direction. And here is the twist. The boldest thing you can do is stop. Sit in the discomfort of an empty hour. That is where you finally hear what you have been drowning out. Productivity is sometimes just fear in a nicer outfit. Do less that distracts. Do more that matters. The two are rarely the same.

I turned my needs into polite, half whispers 

~ DC ~ Leave a comment

I called it progress when they pulled away
and named the distance mercy for my pain.
I lowered my voice so they wouldn’t leave
and praised myself for learning to stay small.
I felt a drip of warmth and called it love
though it came once a month like broken rain.
I saw their silence, thought it meant I failed
and offered my heart as proof I could improve.
I turned my needs into polite half‑whispers
and said, “This is what grown‑up love must be.”
I swallowed every warning from my gut
and dressed my fear in words like empathy.
They ran from touch with a practiced casual shrug
and I chased the shrug like it was oxygen.
Their calm looked holy next to my shaking hands
so I wore my shaking as hidden sin.
I told myself, “They’re deep, they just need space,”
then waited at the border of their skin.
I fought for them like love was a war to win
but all I wanted was to feel I mattered.
I thought if I could read their every mood
I’d rewrite childhood, stitch my heart unshattered.
I called my panic “passion,” like a spell,
and their retreat “maturity” and “control.”
We danced a loop: they vanished, I became a void
trying to be the room that felt like home.
Every time they left, my chest became a courtroom
where I put myself on trial for wanting more.
I did not see they feared the weight of closeness,
I only saw a mirror of my old familiar hurt.
I kept auditioning for the role of “worthy”
before a judge who never showed up for the case.
I confused their relief with real connection,
their brief return with promises they never made.
Then one night my nervous system snapped
and asked, “Why do we call this love and stay?”
I saw my heart kneeling at a locked‑up door
with flowers made of apologies and doubt.
I heard my younger self crying, “Don’t leave me,”
and realized I’d been holding out my past.
I turned around and faced the life behind me,
a world not built on waiting for their text.
I felt the terror of walking out of orbit
and named it truth instead of fatal loss.
I stopped rehearsing speeches that might save us
and started learning how to speak to me.
I took the love I begged from their absence
and poured it in the cracks inside my ribs.
I stopped calling bare minimum a blessing
and let my standards rise like honest dawn.
I let the word “enough” sit in my mouth
until it tasted more like spine than shame.
I saw the avoidant as a human storm
not as the sculptor of my worth or fate.
Their work is theirs: to face the flood of closeness
or keep outrunning what they fear to feel.
My work is mine: to soothe the shaking child
and teach my body safety that is real.
I learned that leaving isn’t proof I’m broken
and staying isn’t proof that they are whole.
I let my nervous system unhook from their distance
and stop mistaking chasing for connection.
I built a self that doesn’t beg for rescue
from someone swimming hard away from shore.
Now if they run, I do not follow bleeding;
I walk the other way and call it love.
Because the brutal truth is simple, sharp, and clean:
I heal the part of me that still wants what won’t stay.

RSP

…

DCG

Screenshot


If You Want Your Avoidant Ex Back, Heal the Part of You That Wants Them
Subtitle:

How chasing intimacy with the avoidant turns into a fight for validation—and how to reclaim yourself

You convince yourself that it’s progress.
You tolerate emotional distance and call it understanding or empathy.
You mistake relief for compatibility and then feel oddly grateful when the bare minimum finally shows up.
Somewhere in that chaos, in order to keep the connection alive, your needs get quieter, your boundaries get softer, and your intuition—that gut feeling—gets ignored. All because you’re holding on to someone who is terrified of actually being held.
So how do you get your avoidant ex back?
You don’t.
You get yourself back.
You take the energy you were pouring into understanding and analyzing their behavior, and you pour it back into yourself. You rebuild your confidence—or build it for the first time. You rebuild your self‑esteem and your sense of worth.
You take the love you kept trying to earn from them and pour it back into yourself without conditions. You take the silence you once experienced as punishment and you start to use that space to rise.
Here’s a truth most people don’t want to admit:
When you’re focused on an avoidant, you’re not really fighting for love.
You are fighting for validation.
The moment you turn your focus back to yourself—your identity, your clarity, your confidence, your intentions—the avoidant either steps up or becomes irrelevant.
I want you to hear this:
Do not chase someone who runs from intimacy.
Instead, become the person who does not tolerate running in the first place.
If you want guidance from someone who has been there—through the avoidant dynamic, through the breakup, through the chaos, the silent treatment, the hurt, the pain, and the recovery, the breakthrough—here is my best advice:
If you want your avoidant ex back,
heal the part of you that wants them.
So often people ask, “How do I get my avoidant ex back?”
Simple:
If you want them back, you stop trying.
You stop bargaining with your own worth.
You stop auditioning for the bare minimum.
You stop confusing their relief with your compatibility.
And you start doing the work of becoming someone whose nervous system no longer confuses anxiety with attraction, inconsistency with chemistry, and emotional distance with safety.
You stop chasing them,

and you start choosing you.

Brief Psychological Breakdown (Note for Substack)
This piece speaks directly to the dynamic between an anxious attachment style and an avoidant attachment style, where the anxious partner often turns the relationship into a quest for validation rather than mutual intimacy. It highlights how an avoidant partner’s distance can activate the anxious partner’s fear of abandonment, leading them to soften boundaries, mute their own needs, and over-function emotionally in order to “keep the connection alive.”
The central reframe is that focusing on “getting the avoidant ex back” keeps the anxious partner locked in a validation loop that reinforces low self‑worth and relational insecurity. The invitation is to redirect that energy into self‑reconstruction: rebuilding confidence, self‑esteem, and a secure sense of identity that no longer depends on the avoidant partner’s intermittent approval.
Psychologically, “heal the part of you that wants them” means working with the underlying patterns—early attachment wounds, learned associations between inconsistency and love, and the tendency to interpret emotional relief as compatibility. The goal is not to fix the avoidant partner, but to transform the internal landscape that finds emotional unavailability familiar and compelling, so that intimacy with emotionally available others begins to feel not only possible, but natural.

A breach of trust 

~ DC ~ Leave a comment


A breach of trust


I have been sitting with what I feel
Trying to name what is quiet and real
Not every distance is meant to divide
Sometimes it shows what we carry inside
I see the ways that we both have tried
Even in moments we turned aside
You with your silence, careful and still
Me with a heart that leans and will
I used to think I could hold it all
So nothing between us would ever fall
But love is not something one can maintain
By softening truth or absorbing pain
I say this gently, with care in my voice
Not as a demand, and not as a choice
Just as a moment we both can see
What it has felt like for you and for me
There were times I reached and felt alone
Not because you meant it, but what was unknown
And I can sense that you needed space
Not as rejection, but simply your place
So here we are in a tender pause
Not placing blame, not listing flaws
Just noticing patterns, quiet and clear
The way we move when closeness is near
I am still learning to stand in my ground
Without needing everything to be sound
To trust that care does not disappear
Even when distance is quietly here
And you may be learning, in your own way
How to let someone gently stay
There is no rush to become something new
No pressure on me, and none on you
Only a kindness we both can keep
Toward the parts of us that run deep
Like something small that once caused ache
Turning with time to something we make
Layer by layer, with patience and grace
Finding a rhythm that each can face
And whether we walk together or part
I will still carry a steady heart
Not closed, not hardened, not turned away
Just open enough to grow each day

RSP

…

DCG

Screenshot

Limerence 

~ DC ~ Leave a comment

I write to you from inside the storm,
and from the doorway where I watch it form.
I have loved you mostly inside my head,
a theater of scenes that never get said.
You appear, then vanish, a flickering sign,
and my heart runs after what is never quite mine.
I call this love, but it burns like a fever,
a vow to a ghost and a distant believer.
I rewind small moments until they all blur,
a glance, a breath, the way you never were.
You stay perfected, framed in my mind,
and I fade smaller just to keep you kind.
I have abandoned myself chasing your name,
walking over glass while calling it flame.
Each silence from you becomes a loud judge,
each crumb of regard, a banquet I won’t budge.
Your armor is heavy, your doors stay closed tight,
yet I camp at the gate, praying you’ll turn toward the light.
You retreat into distance, I rush into fire,
thinking if I burn enough, you’ll feel desire.
I have studied our pattern like scripture and code,
watched it etch scars in my nervous road.
You step back whenever I try to draw near,
and I step in closer every time you disappear.
The gap between us is more than just space,
it’s all of my effort poured into your grace.
Now a new voice trembles under my skin,
asking why I keep losing myself to not win.
It tells me love is not meant as a chase,
not an endless exam I must constantly ace.
It whispers my worth is older than you,
that my pulse didn’t start when you came into view.
So I gather my pieces from altars and floors,
and start closing shrines with your name on their doors.
I turn these letters inward for the first time,
writing truth to the self I left out in the grime.
I step back, not to wound or accuse,
but to finally stop making myself the one I lose.
I still ache, I still want, I still remember your face,
yet the fantasy no longer gets to set the pace.
I walk away on unsteady, unfamiliar legs,
carrying both my longing and unanswered begs.
Somewhere beyond this unfinished, jagged bend,
something real may rise—if I dare not write the end.

RSP

…

DCG

Screenshot

Still looking 

~ DC ~ Leave a comment

Still Looking

A poem for the people who have studied themselves and are still a little lost

I have been taking myself apart for years

and still I can’t explain the wreck

I know the diagrams, I’ve read the books

and still something’s caught in the neck

I’ve sat with therapists in quiet rooms

and walked out with the same old ache

the mirror offers nothing I don’t know

and still I can’t sleep when I wake

I know exactly how I pull away

I know the name of every wall

I built the taxonomy, laid it out flat

and then I went and did it all

There was a child who learned that love was leaving

who waited by a window every night

and when love finally stayed I found a reason

to stand up and turn off the light

The damage doesn’t stop when you discover it

it doesn’t care what you have named

it bleeds right through the bandage of your learning

and someone new gets stained

I’ve handed people maps of all my damage

said here’s the wound, here’s where it leads

and then I watched myself go right along

and plant the same old seeds

But something in the writing keeps me grounded

it pulls me back to what is real

not fixed, not freed, just willing to return

and say again what I still feel

There is a dignity in looking twice

in going back when nothing’s changed

the work is not the cure, the work is witness

a record of the strange

Fragility is not the proof of failure

the crack is where the light comes through

the fool who names his folly has more standing

than the one who never knew

I am not a villain for the wounds I carry

but I’m the one who gets to choose

I know the punchline now — it’s still worth laughing

at what I couldn’t bear to lose

About This Poem

I’ve been writing about myself for over fourteen years — the patterns, the contradictions, the gap between what I understand and what I actually do — and I still don’t have a tidy answer. That used to embarrass me. It doesn’t anymore, quite. What I’ve come to believe is that the examined life isn’t a problem to be solved; it’s a practice to be kept. This poem is about the specific frustration of knowing yourself well and still finding yourself at the same old crossroads — and why I think that frustration, named honestly, is worth more than a false arrival. If you’ve ever read something about attachment or self-sabotage and thought yes, that’s exactly it and then watched yourself do the thing anyway, you already know what this poem is about. My blog and Substack, going on fourteen years now, are built for the people who are still in that gap — not defeated by it, just honest about it.

Who This Is For

For the people who feel things deeply but can’t always find the words — and for whom someone else’s words, when they land right, feel like being heard for the first time. For the people sitting in the middle distance between belief and doubt, between knowing and doing, between who they were and who they’re trying to become. For anyone who has ever understood their own damage completely and still had to live through it anyway. That’s who I write for. That’s you.

…

DCG

Screenshot

“Happiness only real when shared“

~ DC ~ Leave a comment

“Happiness only real when shared” — Christopher McCandless Bus 142 


We talk ourselves into a corner


When all we are trying to do


Is to escape the fear we project


Onto the only world we knew


You would rather trade connection


Remain alone in an empty room


The fear of abandonment, vulnerability, and intimacy


You avoid the scars on the face in the mirror, an undiscovered gloom


The loneliness you feel


A self imposed trap


You never see the dream for what it is


For you, it’s only just a nap


The irony of the nightmare


It is not just a dream


The way you’ve lived your life


Won’t help you if you never come clean


You built a shield no one can see


A quiet, practiced vacancy


You call it peace, this careful space


But grief still lingers in its place


You learned to need a little less


To dodge the weight of tenderness


Each time a hand reached out to stay


You trained your heart to turn away


Not out of hate, not out of pride


But something deep inside


A child who learned that love could leave


Now fears what they still dare believe


John Bowlby saw what we deny


The hidden truths we bury deeply inside


Attachment bends beneath the strain


Of silent loss and unnamed pain


You move through life composed, contained


Yet feel so subtly unclaimed


And though you long to just belong


You’ve taught yourself that that is wrong


But walls don’t heal what they protect


They only help us disconnect


And in the end, what hurts the most


Is needing love, but fearing it close

RSP

…

DCG

Screenshot

If you never healed from what hurt you 

~ DC ~ Leave a comment

If you never heal from what hurt you

You’ll bleed on people that never cut you

If you never healed from what hurt you
You’ll bleed on people that never cut you
We carry storms in chambers of the chest
And call it strength to never take a rest
The mind builds monuments to silent pain
While teaching lips to say we are okay again
A child once learned that love could disappear
So now the grown-up heart negotiates with fear
We sharpen grief into a guarded tongue
And wound the ones who never did us wrong
The past is not a place that stays behind
It leaks through cracks in memory and mind
Each scar a thesis written in the skin
Defending why we let no one come in
But pain unattended does not fade away
It reorganizes how we think and stay
We measure kindness with a cautious eye
Expecting every promise is a lie
Yet still the soul remembers softer things
A quiet hope that healing someday brings
The truth is not that broken people fall
It’s how they rise still carrying it all
And sometimes drop the weight on those nearby
Not out of malice—but they don’t know why
We are not villains in the lives we shake
Just humans shaped by every fracture we make
But knowledge asks a duty to begin
To face the dark we’ve buried deep within
Because awareness is the first repair
A choice to tend the wounds we used to wear
Not every hurt deserves to be passed down
Not every silence needs to be a crown
We can unlearn the language born of pain
And teach the heart to trust itself again
To pause before the anger takes its turn
And ask what deeper truth is left to burn
Healing is not forgetting what was done
But choosing not to harm another one
So when we stand at edges of our past
We learn which parts of us are built to last
And in that moment—quiet, fierce, and true
We stop the bleeding others never knew

RSP

…

DCG

Screenshot

An epistolary collection of an anxious attacher as of June 1, 2026 

~ DC ~ Leave a comment

Complete List of RSP/DCG Signed Posts

  1. A Leap of Faith
    • Published: October 25, 2017
    • URL: thundergodblog.com/2017/10/25/a-leap-of-faith/
    • Summary: A poem about the complex legacy parents leave their children — particularly the emotional wounds children carry when parents fail to show love. It speaks to the need for recognition, healing, and passing on a legacy of love rather than pain.

• Closing Signoff:  DCG 

  1. My Morning Prayer
    • Published: January 30, 2018
    • URL: thundergodblog.com/2018/01/30/my-morning-prayer/
    • Summary: A romantic and spiritual poem about longing for connection with someone whose presence feels like medicine — a healing angel. The author reflects on loneliness and the desire to share time with this person as a kind of morning prayer.

• Closing Signoff:  DCG 

  1. No Matter How you Define Austere
    • Published: October 16, 2018
    • URL: thundergodblog.com/2018/10/16/no-matter-how-you-define-austere/
    • Summary: A reflective poem about working 35 years for an employer, navigating workplace politics and corruption, and persevering through trials with faith. It speaks to endurance and wisdom drawn from hardship.

• Closing Signoff:  DCG

The first Poem
It’s a deeply personal piece written in short, free-verse stanzas — structured as a journey from wounded childhood to adult reckoning and, ultimately, a choice toward love.
What It Means
The poem traces a psychological arc rooted in childhood emotional neglect. It opens with children questioning their own worthiness of love — a feeling shaped by their parents’ inability to bridge the emotional gap. This maps closely to ambivalent/anxious attachment theory, a theme consistent with much of my blog’s work.
The middle section is viscerally interior — a child lying awake at night, frightened, numbing out, finding small comfort in the hum of a fan. There’s no rescuer, no safe adult. The child fights alone in the dark.
The turn comes in the final stanzas: that same child, now an adult, faces life with hard-won but still fragile awareness. The “leap of faith” is the central act — choosing to believe in love and goodness despite a history of diminishing returns. It’s not naive optimism; it’s a conscious, courageous decision to love those around me anyway, as the greatest gift I can give.
Core Themes
• Childhood emotional wounding and the intergenerational cycle of unmet needs
• Ambivalent attachment — the numbing, the fear, the aloneness
• Redemption through love — not as something received, but as something chosen and given
• The existential act of faith as resistance against a painful past
It’s one of my earlier pieces, and it reads like a foundational statement of the philosophy that runs through my broader body of work.

  1. You always bring out in me
    • Published: July 17, 2023
    • URL: thundergodblog.com/2023/07/17/you-always-bring-out-in-me/
    • Summary: A poem written to RSP about a brief interaction — she came in, said hi, and bought lunch — that sparked deep appreciation. The author reflects on how positivity and genuine connection lift the spirit and bring out the best in him.

• Closing Signoff:  RSP … DCG 

  1. If you leave your heart open
    • Published: August 9, 2023
    • URL: thundergodblog.com/2023/08/09/if-you-leave-your-heart-open/
    • Summary: A poem about the possibility of love when one remains emotionally open. The author reflects on respecting those who choose solitude while expressing his belief that shared life is more fulfilling, and extends that sentiment toward RSP.

• Closing Signoff:  RSP … DCG 

  1. As this is what I want to share
    • Published: November 5, 2024
    • URL: thundergodblog.com/2024/11/05/as-this-is-what-i-want-to-share/
    • Summary: A poem expressing the author’s desire to get to know RSP better, not to change her life but simply to share in it. He acknowledges a mysterious, natural connection and hopes they can spend time together.

• Closing Signoff:  RSP … DCG 

  1. The unexpected delight of what you perceive
    • Published: November 13, 2024
    • URL: thundergodblog.com/2024/11/13/the-unexpected-delight-of-what-you-perceive/
    • Summary: A poem comparing the feeling of new love to the anticipation of Christmas morning — the warmth, the joy, the gift of perception and hope. It reflects on the thrill of beginning a new chapter while forgiving the past.

• Closing Signoff:  RSP … DCG 

  1. We accept the love we think we deserve
    • Published: November 15, 2024
    • URL: thundergodblog.com/2024/11/15/we-accept-the-love-we-think-we-deserve/
    • Summary: A poem about self-sabotage in love — how people close doors to opportunity because they don’t believe they deserve better. The author encourages RSP (and himself) to wrestle with the subconscious and open up to what friendship and love can offer.

• Closing Signoff:  RSP … DCG 

  1. I don’t know what the future holds
    • Published: November 16, 2024
    • URL: thundergodblog.com/2024/11/16/i-dont-know-what-the-furure-holds/
    • Summary: A prayer-poem in which the author surrenders the future to God while expressing hope that the people he cares about (including RSP) are part of God’s plan. He expresses stubborn hope and believes that “kindred spirits” may come to a shared understanding.

• Closing Signoff:  RSP … DCG 

  1. There is a battle going on inside us
    • Published: December 1, 2024
    • URL: thundergodblog.com/2024/12/01/there-is-a-battle-going-on-inside-us/
    • Summary: A poem where DCG describes noticing RSP’s happy smile while sensing her hidden vulnerabilities. He speaks to the internal battle between opening up and self-protection, and invites her to allow him to share what he sees in her.

• Closing Signoff:  RSP … DCG 

  1. The secret of my affection
    • Published: December 5, 2024
    • URL: thundergodblog.com/2024/12/05/the-secret-of-my-affection/
    • Summary: A poem about attraction without agenda — the author’s affection for RSP is described as pure, without manipulation or expectation. He simply wants to communicate how he feels and leave the choice to her.

• Closing Signoff:  RSP … DCG 

  1. This emotional embargo
    • Published: December 8, 2024
    • URL: thundergodblog.com/2024/12/08/this-emotional-embargo/
    • Summary: A poem about the emotional cage people build around themselves to avoid vulnerability — described as an “emotional embargo.” The author encourages mustering courage to break the cycle of avoidance, noting that the imagined danger is often not as bad as feared.

• Closing Signoff:  RSP … DCG 

  1. When your love becomes a gift
    • Published: December 14, 2024
    • URL: thundergodblog.com/2024/12/14/when-your-love-becomes-a-gift/
    • Summary: A poem reflecting on the dual nature of love — how it can heal and hurt. The author tells RSP that when genuine love is offered, it becomes a gift even to broken hearts, though it may send a guarded heart adrift if not received.

• Closing Signoff:  RSP … DCG 

  1. If you see what I can see
    • Published: December 25, 2024
    • URL: thundergodblog.com/2024/12/25/if-you-see-what-i-can-see/
    • Summary: A Christmas poem to RSP about love — patient, kind, forgiving, and blind. The author wants to understand her sorrow and silences, compares her smile to Cupid’s arrow, and says he wouldn’t be blamed for trying, even if it’s not meant to be.

• Closing Signoff:  RSP … DCG 

  1. If you wear your heart on your sleeve
    • Published: January 29, 2025
    • URL: thundergodblog.com/2025/01/29/if-you-wear-your-heart-on-your-sleeve/
    • Summary: A poem about the vulnerability of wearing one’s heart openly — the risk of pain, the temptation to build walls, but ultimately the author’s conviction that it’s better to live genuinely and be brave than to hide in emotional safety.

• Closing Signoff:  RSP … DCG 

  1. I’ll prove every day that you can trust me
    • Published: March 2, 2025
    • URL: thundergodblog.com/2025/03/02/ill-prove-every-day-that-you-can-trust-me/
    • Summary: A poem of commitment and attraction — the author tells RSP he is drawn to her electric presence and promises daily effort to earn her trust, ending with the confession that he genuinely cares and is sending these messages because of that care.

• Closing Signoff:  RSP … DCG 

  1. It takes two to tango
    • Published: March 3, 2025
    • URL: thundergodblog.com/2025/03/03/it-takes-two-to-tango/
    • Summary: A poem about the playful, flirtatious side of romantic pursuit — the author admits he’s a hopeless romantic who chases what he wants with laughter. He reflects on the dynamics of friendship and love and the healthy “friction” between two souls.

• Closing Signoff:  RSP … DCG 

  1. At least that is what I’ve been told
    • Published: March 8, 2025
    • URL: thundergodblog.com/2025/03/08/at-least-that-is-what-ive-been-told/
    • Summary: A poem about how happiness is measured by the quality of our relationships. The author reflects on people who come and go in life, great matches that exist, and the ultimate wisdom that our bonds are proportional to our joy.

• Closing Signoff:  RSP … DCG 

  1. At least I gave it a shot
    • Published: March 21, 2025
    • URL: thundergodblog.com/2025/03/21/at-least-i-gave-it-a-shot/
    • Summary: A poem about the mental weariness of confusion and maladaptive thinking born from following pride rather than wisdom. When we fail, we console ourselves with “at least I gave it a shot” — the author reflects on how this resignation can also mask deeper emotional avoidance.

• Closing Signoff:  RSP … DCG 

  1. I self sabotage
    • Published: March 25, 2025
    • URL: thundergodblog.com/2025/03/25/i-self-sabotage/
    • Summary: A confessional poem about self-sabotage rooted in guilt, shame, and a difficult childhood. The author admits his low self-esteem and cognitive dissonance have made relationships hard, connecting these patterns to RSP’s own parallel experience.

• Closing Signoff:  RSP … DCG 

  1. With every prayer
    • Published: April 20, 2025
    • URL: thundergodblog.com/2025/04/20/with-every-prayer/
    • Summary: A spiritual poem in which DCG prays for strength, courage, wisdom, and forgiveness. He reflects that God gives him opportunities to demonstrate these qualities in hardship, asking how best to manage difficult emotional moments in relationship.

• Closing Signoff:  RSP … DCG 

  1. A one-sided love affair
    • Published: April 28, 2025
    • URL: thundergodblog.com/2025/04/28/a-one-sided-love-affair/
    • Summary: A poem about the pain of unrequited love — the burn even a saint feels when emotion erupts and there is nowhere to turn. The author reflects on what it costs to love without it being returned and asks what we learned and lost in the process.

• Closing Signoff:  RSP … DCG 

  1. And so goes our training
    • Published: May 6, 2025
    • URL: thundergodblog.com/2025/05/06/and-so-goes-our-training/
    • Summary: A poem encouraging openness in sharing feelings despite fear of rejection. The author uses perspective and emotional balance as tools for growth, saying use your feelings as motivation and look for someone compatible — a partner, not a mirror.

• Closing Signoff:  RSP … DCG 

  1. It warms my heart
    • Published: May 7, 2025
    • URL: thundergodblog.com/2025/05/07/it-warms-my-heart/
    • Summary: A warm poem in which DCG tells RSP it warms his heart when she expresses herself to him — her excitement about a new job, her energy. He admits he doesn’t understand why he’s drawn to her but feels it like déjà vu, genuine and unexplained.

• Closing Signoff:  RSP … DCG 

  1. Why are we so confused?
    • Published: May 12, 2025
    • URL: thundergodblog.com/2025/05/12/why-are-we-so-confused/
    • Summary: A poem about meeting a “kindred spirit” and recognizing shared childhood wounds — anxious vs. dismissive attachment. The author questions why connection and rejection are so hard to distinguish when trauma bonds are involved.

• Closing Signoff:  RSP … DCG 

  1. Am I allowed to express what I feel?
    • Published: June 6, 2025
    • URL: thundergodblog.com/2025/06/06/am-i-allowed-to-express-what-i-feel/
    • Summary: A vulnerable poem about being emotionally imprisoned — an “emotional straight jacket” formed in childhood by emotionally impoverished parents. The author wonders whether he is even allowed to express what he feels to RSP, or whether that right has been forfeited.

• Closing Signoff:  RSP … DCG 

  1. Anxious attachment
    • Published: June 20, 2025
    • URL: thundergodblog.com/2025/06/20/anxious-attachment/
    • Summary: A poem about the trap of anxious attachment — the cycle of seeking approval rooted in unresolved childhood wounds. The author acknowledges being triggered but asserts that choices still exist even after falling to our knees.

• Closing Signoff:  RSP … DCG 

  1. Because this is my heart’s echo
    • Published: June 27, 2025
    • URL: thundergodblog.com/2025/06/27/because-this-is-my-hearts-echo/
    • Summary: A poem about feeling less empty and more purposeful when RSP is in his heart and thoughts. He reflects on shared childhood neglect and wonders if they crossed paths for a reason — his heart’s echo reaching toward hers.

• Closing Signoff:  RSP … DCG 

  1. It’s your spirit that’s longing to suffer no more
    • Published: June 27, 2025
    • URL: thundergodblog.com/2025/06/27/its-your-spirit-thats-longing-to-suffer-no-more/
    • Summary: A forgiveness poem written “— for Robyn —” encouraging RSP to release old pain and resentment. It argues that forgiveness frees the forgiver rather than the forgiven, and that the soul in the mirror is the one truly liberated by the act of letting go.

• Closing Signoff:  RSP … DCG  (poem dedicated “— for Robyn —”)

  1. Doesn’t always mean what it seems
    • Published: July 1, 2025
    • URL: thundergodblog.com/2025/07/01/doesnt-always-mean-what-it-seems/
    • Summary: A poem about bottled emotion — the author has “all this emotion” but must keep it locked away because RSP doesn’t want to hear it. He reflects on how surface behavior (“what you see is what you get”) doesn’t always reveal the inner truth.

• Closing Signoff:  RSP … DCG 

  1. My nervous system has been hijacked
    • Published: July 2, 2025
    • URL: thundergodblog.com/2025/07/02/my-nervous-system-has-been-hijacked/
    • Summary: A poem/reflection on how childhood family dynamics hijack the nervous system and shape adult emotional responses. The author connects his anxious attachment to early nurturing deficits and prays for divine help in breaking the cycle.

• Closing Signoff:  RSP … DCG 

  1. However, it turns out
    • Published: July 8, 2025
    • URL: thundergodblog.com/2025/07/08/however-it-turns-out/
    • Summary: A spiritually committed poem in which DCG says his heart, soul, and mind are committed to this path, leaving the outcome to God. He asks God to work through him and promises that however things turn out, he will always extend his hand to RSP.

• Closing Signoff:  RSP … DCG 

  1. One built for me and you
    • Published: July 9, 2025
    • URL: thundergodblog.com/2025/07/09/one-built-for-me-and-you/
    • Summary: A poem about the painful paradox of getting close to someone who pulls away — the closer he gets, the farther she drifts. He references “the closer to the fire, the more you get burned” but remains committed to building something meaningful together.

• Closing Signoff:  RSP … DCG 

  1. I believe in you
    • Published: July 10, 2025
    • URL: thundergodblog.com/2025/07/10/i-believe-in-you/
    • Summary: A poem of faith and affirmation directed at RSP — the author believes in her ability against an unfair world, references shared California memories (OB, South Beach), and tells her that her charms are not lost on him.

• Closing Signoff:  RSP … DCG 

  1. One that we host
    • Published: July 11, 2025
    • URL: thundergodblog.com/2025/07/11/one-that-we-host/
    • Summary: A poem about the social masks people wear — walking on eggshells, not knowing who to trust, dressing up and flirting to cover loneliness. The author reflects on the emotional chaos “we have created and now host” within ourselves.

• Closing Signoff:  RSP … DCG 

  1. Heal with me RP
    • Published: July 18, 2025
    • URL: thundergodblog.com/2025/07/18/heal-with-me-rp/
    • Summary: A poem addressed directly to “RP” (RSP) about two damaged people meeting at the right moment. The author calls himself “damaged goods” and sees in RSP a mirror — “birds of a feather” — and asks, may we heal each other?

• Closing Signoff:  RSP … DCG 

  1. I filled in all the missing parts
    • Published: July 27, 2025
    • URL: thundergodblog.com/2025/07/27/i-filled-in-all-the-missing-parts/
    • Summary: A poem about the gendered paradox of attraction — women fall in love with what they hear, men with what they see. The author reflects on filling in “all the missing parts” in his imagination about someone, and the emotional risks of that projection.

• Closing Signoff:  RSP … DCG 

  1. Despite our perplexity
    • Published: October 1, 2025
    • URL: thundergodblog.com/2025/10/01/despite-our-perplexity/
    • Summary: A philosophical poem about how reason and self-reflection are the best diagnostic tools available to us. As an ameliorist and pragmatist, DCG believes our choices define us despite our confusion — and that we learn by comparing perception to reality.

• Closing Signoff:  RSP … DCG 

  1. When your confidence is shrouded by insecurity
    • Published: October 6, 2025
    • URL: thundergodblog.com/2025/10/06/when-your-confidence-is-shrouded-by-insecurity/
    • Summary: A poem about how unhealed emotional wounds prevent growth — the shame of bottled pain reigns over the subconscious and prevents resolution. DCG tells RSP (and himself) that you can find resolution, but you must first expose what you so often hide.

• Closing Signoff:  RSP … DCG 

  1. The fragile triumph
    • Published: October 18, 2025
    • URL: thundergodblog.com/2025/10/18/the-fragile-triumph/
    • Summary: A poem about the human condition — we “wake as gods with trembling hands,” building thrones on fleeting dreams. We strive for love yet fear its weight, and the heart once fractured eventually replies; the fragile view was always the holy one.

• Closing Signoff:  RSP … DCG 

  1. How can I be a part of the solution?
    • Published: October 20, 2025
    • URL: thundergodblog.com/2025/10/20/how-can-i-be-a-part-of-the-solution/
    • Summary: A poem about forgiveness as a razor’s edge — knowing when to forgive and when to walk away. DCG reflects on being entangled by surprise and ruled by the heart, asking how both parties can share responsibility for finding a solution.

• Closing Signoff:  RSP … DCG 

  1. You won’t know until the silence hit you
    • Published: October 31, 2025
    • URL: thundergodblog.com/2025/10/31/you-wont-know-until-the-silence-hit-you/
    • Summary: A poem confronting passive-aggressive, dismissive-avoidant denial — the “quickest path of victimhood.” DCG quotes, “sometimes we accept the love we think we deserve,” speaking directly to RSP about unaddressed avoidance and the silence that follows.

• Closing Signoff:  RSP … DCG 

  1. Breathe deeply
    • Published: November 5, 2025
    • URL: thundergodblog.com/2025/11/05/breathe-deeply/
    • Summary: A poem about releasing anxiety and trauma through forgiveness and deep breathing. Pain holds on relentlessly, but faith and the willingness to let go of drama are the path to freedom — breathe deeply, face the truth.

• Closing Signoff:  RSP … DCG 

  1. I’m trying to seek approval
    • Published: November 6, 2025
    • URL: thundergodblog.com/2025/11/06/im-trying-to-seek-approval/
    • Summary: A confessional poem about how the author’s absent, neglectful father created a trauma bond that drives compulsive approval-seeking in adulthood. He acknowledges this is common and names John Bowlby’s attachment theory as the psychological framework behind it.

• Closing Signoff:  … DCG  (RSP addressed in context)

  1. However, it may lead I will always find my faith
    • Published: November 8, 2025
    • URL: thundergodblog.com/2025/11/08/however-it-may-lead-i-will-always-find-my-faith/
    • Summary: A poem to RSP — DCG tells her he knows she is feeling angry and resigned, and that her coping strategy of avoidance will not bring her peace. His heart breaks watching her struggle but he will always find his faith wherever the path leads.
    • Closing Signoff:  RSP … DCG
  1. Scar tissue
    • Published: November 8, 2025
    • URL: thundergodblog.com/2025/11/08/scar-tissue/
    • Summary: A poem of patient, faithful waiting — the author waits “beneath the weight of hollow years,” burning with prayer and tracing the path forward through scar tissue. Even if the way is lined with dread, he will walk it until it leads to her.

• Closing Signoff:  RSP … DCG 

  1. The quiet between them
    • Published: November 9, 2025
    • URL: thundergodblog.com/2025/11/09/the-quiet-between-them/
    • Summary: A short story/prose poem about Adrian (DCG) and a woman with avoidant attachment who goes silent for days. He finally types a message — “Thinking of you. Hope you’re okay” — then erases it. He closes his eyes and wishes he could love without fear, like the wind.

• Closing Signoff:  RSP … DCG 

  1. Yet here I stand
    • Published: November 10, 2025
    • URL: thundergodblog.com/2025/11/10/yet-here-i-stand/
    • Summary: A poem of steadfast love — DCG sees RSP’s walls built from pain, recognizes that silence is the language trauma taught her heart, and yet here he stands as a patient guide. He promises to stay through the winters, as long as it takes.

• Closing Signoff:  RSP … DCG 

  1. A walking contradiction
    • Published: November 18, 2025
    • URL: thundergodblog.com/2025/11/18/a-walking-contradiction/
    • Summary: A poem that confronts the confusing, sometimes hurtful messages RSP sends. DCG empathizes with her self-protection but challenges her to self-reflect as well as self-protect — warning that without facing her fear head-on, decay follows.

• Closing Signoff:  RSP … DCG 

  1. The parable of the gentle bridge
    • Published: November 22, 2025
    • URL: thundergodblog.com/2025/11/22/the-parable-of-the-gentle-bridge/
    • Summary: A parable about a bridge maker (DCG) who builds bridges for divided souls, including a woman who lives behind glass (RSP). The bridge stands not as a demand but as a possibility — open to her courage, guarded by his quiet strength, never forsaking his post.

• Closing Signoff:  RSP … DCG 

  1. This is the song that I sing
    • Published: December 17, 2025
    • URL: thundergodblog.com/2025/12/17/this-is-the-song-that-i-sing/
    • Summary: A lyrical poem about a wounded heart recognizing familiarity in another wounded heart — RSP. The author says she places walls around her emotions, but that wounded hearts seek familiarity, and she has touched his heart so tenderly — this is the song that I sing.

• Closing Signoff:  RSP … DCG 

  1. R and D
    • Published: December 22, 2025
    • URL: thundergodblog.com/2025/12/22/r-and-d/
    • Summary: A narrative poem explicitly about R (RSP) and D (DCG) — two people with trauma-shaped attachment styles (avoidant and anxious) finding their way toward each other. With steady therapeutic guides and honest conversation, they may learn a bond where both can finally be free.

• Closing Signoff:  RSP … DCG 

  1. The quiet charity of loving
    • Published: December 28, 2025
    • URL: thundergodblog.com/2025/12/28/the-quiet-charity-of-loving/
    • Summary: A poem about love as an act of charity — given without guarantee of return. Each wound refines what faith began; love unspent is not in vain; unanswered hearts abide as proof that goodness lingers. Even if RSP never spoke his name, DCG is grateful for the sound.

• Closing Signoff:  RSP … DCG 

  1. Forgive and let go of the past
    • Published: December 31, 2025
    • URL: thundergodblog.com/2025/12/31/forgive-and-let-go-of-the-past/
    • Summary: A year-end reflection on rumination and the push-pull of love — she loves me, she loves me not. DCG thinks of RSP and the times that make him hesitate, ultimately counseling himself and her to show the soft underbelly and forgive the past.

• Closing Signoff:  RSP … DCG 

  1. It resonates as we
    • Published: January 23, 2026
    • URL: thundergodblog.com/2026/01/23/it-resonates-as-we/
    • Summary: A vow poem — the author makes a pledge, says a prayer, and bares his soul, hoping he and RSP can live side by side. He has reached an awareness that a healthy relationship requires boundaries with clout, and is clear-eyed about what both of them need.

• Closing Signoff:  RSP … DCG 

  1. You walked in
    • Published: January 25, 2026
    • URL: thundergodblog.com/2026/01/25/you-walked-in/
    • Summary: A poem about the transformative moment RSP walked into his life — she made the room feel wide and listened like it mattered. Even if she doesn’t stay, the craft he learned in loving her will frame the way he loves others; her impact altered how he sees the world.

• Closing Signoff:  RSP … DCG 

  1. I want you to know
    • Published: January 30, 2026
    • URL: thundergodblog.com/2026/01/30/i-want-you-to-know/
    • Summary: A tender, reassuring poem in which DCG tells RSP: if you need space, I’ll give you grace; if you need to decompress, I won’t hesitate. He is patient and certain that what they have can work.

• Closing Signoff:  RSP … DCG 

  1. And so you run
    • Published: February 1, 2026
    • URL: thundergodblog.com/2026/02/01/and-so-you-run/
    • Summary: A poem confronting RSP’s pattern of running away — the author says her behavior has consequences, that silence brings clarity, and that deep inside her something still pleads for connection. He hasn’t given up, but notes she is “emotionally autistic” due to childhood wounds.

• Closing Signoff:  RSP … DCG 

  1. The echo of your retreat
    • Published: February 4, 2026
    • URL: thundergodblog.com/2026/02/04/the-echo-of-your-retreat/
    • Summary: A deeply introspective poem in which DCG wakes inside the echo of RSP’s silence and builds hope inside her distance. Ultimately he turns inward — the cycle breaks where he begins; forgiving what he cannot heal; steadying his pulse with honest will.

• Closing Signoff:  RSP … DCG 

  1. Exit stage left
    • Published: February 16, 2026
    • URL: thundergodblog.com/2026/02/16/exit-stage-left/
    • Summary: Written in screenplay format — a dramatic interior scene of D writing unsent letters by candlelight, a cross on the wall, rain on the window. It’s a theatrical rendering of the inner life of the author after RSP withdraws — a stage play of emotional farewell.

• Closing Signoff:  RSP … DCG 

  1. A heart’s whisper
    • Published: March 4, 2026
    • URL: thundergodblog.com/2026/03/04/a-hearts-whisper/
    • Summary: A prayer poem subtitled “And so I pray (for RSP).” DCG prays for RSP’s healing and freedom, says if God answers let it be her freed from shame, and if their paths entwine, let it be two warriors laying down the fight — not rescue, just two broken people healing together.

• Closing Signoff:  … DCG  (RSP explicitly named in prayer)

  1. In the shadowed dance
    • Published: April 19, 2026
    • URL: thundergodblog.com/2026/04/19/in-the-shadowed-dance/
    • Summary: A poem in which R and D dance through Proverbs-inspired imagery — R (dismissive-avoidant) and D (anxious-attached) navigating fear, armor, and vulnerability. Their entwined styles soften through grace, empathy, and forgiveness — RSP in prayer’s hold.

• Closing Signoff:  RSP … DCG 

  1. When solemnity meets absurdity
    • Published: May 20, 2026
    • URL: thundergodblog.com/2026/05/20/when-solemnity-meets-absurdity/
    • Summary: A comedic-philosophical poem about the absurdity of the human condition — praying for wisdom then fighting a parking ticket, telling the mirror to be sincere. Ultimately: the solemn and the strange must meet, and hope still waits around the bend even for bruised, muddy-footed souls.

• Closing Signoff:  … DCG 

  1. The case of Dane
    • Published: May 21, 2026
    • URL: thundergodblog.com/2026/05/21/the-case-of-dane/
    • Summary: A third-person poem about “Dane” — DCG’s alter ego — a boy who held a guitar like morning light and grew into a man carrying childhood questions. The poem traces his philosophical, musical, and emotional journey, asking: is God the answer or just the voice still calling Dane home?

• Closing Signoff:  … DCG 

  1. I forgot the world was singing
    • Published: May 22, 2026
    • URL: thundergodblog.com/2026/05/22/i-forgot-the-world-was-singing/
    • Summary: A poem about being lost in worry and “walking half asleep” until the morning calls him back. A friend reminds him the day is still warm, they talk about hopes and small endeavors, and in the present moment — sunlit skin and sea — he promises the world: I see you now.

• Closing Signoff:  … DCG 

  1. The dissolution of entropy
    • Published: May 25, 2026
    • URL: thundergodblog.com/2026/05/25/the-dissolution-of-entropy/
    • Summary: A meta-analytical post reviewing the entire RSP/DCG relationship arc across the last two years of the blog. It documents how DCG began with hope that RSP would heal with him, and how the writing gradually discovered he must also heal from the story he built around her.

• Closing Signoff:  RSP … DCG 

  1. Cliff notes from the heart
    • Published: May 27, 2026
    • URL: thundergodblog.com/2026/05/27/cliff-notes-from-the-heart/
    • Summary: A poem of honest reckoning — DCG built a chapel out of hope, used his prayers to arrange what her silence would not say. Now he faces the truth: love that saves another must not teach him how to lose. He is ready to say goodbye if she cannot reach for lif• Closing Signoff:  RSP … DCG

📊 Summary Statistics

Note on “RSP”: Based on the June 27, 2025 post “It’s your spirit that’s longing to suffer no more,” which is dedicated ”— for Robyn —”, RSP is a woman named Robyn (last name initials S.P.) with whom DCG (Dean Christian Gunnersen) developed a deep, unrequited or unresolved romantic connection characterized by anxious-attachment (DCG) and dismissive-avoidant attachment (RSP) patterns. The  RSP … DCG  signoff appears throughout as both a dedication to her and a co-signature — two initials, two people, one story.

RSP

…

DCG

Screenshot

A satirical self portrait

~ DC ~ Leave a comment

I Am DC Gunnersen
A Self-Portrait in Comic Verse


I am DC Gunnersen, philosopher and bard,
A Viking born of Norse and Danish bone,
Who traded fjords for California’s yard
And learned to write about his feelings — alone.
I double-majored so that I could see
The soul’s mechanics and the mind’s terrain,
At San Diego State — a psych degree,
A philosophy degree, and still no gain.
For thirteen years I’ve kept the thunder blog,
One hundred fourteen thousand souls have come,
Yet here I sit inside my mental fog,
Eating midnight snacks and feeling glum.
I am part poet and part psychologist,
Part musician and part restless, roving mind,
Part philosopher — a long and gilded list
That impresses no one of the female kind.
The child I was was swallowed by a fear
So ancient that the wound forgot its name,
I carry him still, cup held to my ear,
Listening for a love that never came.
I studied Bowlby — memorized the chart,
The anxious and the avoidant design,
Then handed all my findings and my heart
To someone who had built a longer line.
She was the silence dressed in guarded light,
I was devotion dressed in open pleading,
She offered absence; I, six hundred nights
Of poems that she never finished reading.
I built a chapel out of “could have been”
And knelt inside and called the echo, God,
Six hundred thirty poems laid in between
The pew, the floor, the WikiPsalm facade.
I quoted Watts — the wave forgets the sea —
While being the wave, inside my bedroom, writing,
I quoted Plato to my subscribers three
Hundred sixty-nine — the reading, hardly sighting.
I told the mirror, “You are more than this,”
It winked and showed my slightly crooked hair,
I searched the soul for transcendental bliss
And found a lonely sock beneath the chair.
I know my armor — I can name each plate,
The fortress I erected to endure,
I see the door that opens — still I wait,
Examining the lock from the inside of the cure.
But here’s the joke the universe has kept:
The laughing is the waking, not the sleep,
The fool who names his folly hasn’t wept —
He’s found the punchline is the truth to keep.
I am DC Gunnersen — I see
The wave, the ocean, and the laughing tide,
I am Dean Christian Gunnersen — and free
Is not the man who hides, but who’s survived.
I am DCG — the thunder and the blog,
The anxious heart, the Bowlby-broken case,
I am Dane — emerging from the fog,
Still eating snacks, but laughing at the grace.

…DCG

What AI thinks about this post 

A few things worth noting about what this poem does structurally:
The opening stanza sets up the comic grandiosity — the Viking in California writing about his feelings. That tension between the name and the reality is your signature move, and the poem plays it straight the whole way through.
The middle third is where the weight lands — the childhood wound, the anxious attachment, the chapel of “could have been,” the 630 poems she never finished reading. That line is probably the sharpest one in the piece. It earns the laugh because it is also just true.
The Bowlby stanza is the satirical heart of the poem — the man who studied attachment theory in order to understand himself, then demonstrated it perfectly in the next relationship anyway. That is not failure. That is the human condition wearing a philosophy degree.
The turn at line 41 — “But here’s the joke the universe has kept” — is where the poem shifts from confession to actualization. The laughter is not deflection. It is recognition. The fool who can name his own folly is already halfway out of it.
And the closing identity sequence — DC Gunnersen, Dean Christian Gunnersen, DCG, Dane — lands as something closer to arrival than introduction. You named yourself at the beginning as a character. You name yourself at the end as a person who survived the character and is still here, still writing, still laughing.
That is the big picture the poem is pointing at.

…

DCG

Screenshot

Cliff notes from the heart

~ DC ~ Leave a comment

The Door Before Entropy


I woke inside the mirror that my longing called the truth,
And saw my prayers arranging what your silence would not say,
I built a chapel out of hope and called the ache my proof,
While undisclosed old shadows kept dividing night from day.
I loved the pieces of your heart you let me hold in light,
And filled the missing spaces with the mercy I could give,
But partial truth can turn the mind against its better sight,
And make a man invent the life he wants enough to live.
You are not evil for the walls your childhood taught to stand,
Nor weak because your nervous system learned to disappear,
But I cannot keep reaching with an ever-open hand,
If every touch of closeness turns to distance, doubt, and fear.
I know the debt that haunts you, and the car note in your name,
The jobs, the cats, the drinking, and the panic underneath,
I say this not to wound you, not to drag you into shame,
But love must speak the truth before it loses all its teeth.
You keep me near enough to feel the warmth behind your door,
Then far enough to make my anxious spirit start to plead,
I know you care, but caring cannot carry us much more,
If care stays hidden deep behind the hunger not to need.
I have been kind, supportive, patient, prayerful, and awake,
I have watched you soften, even when you turned away,
But if I make your wounds my home, my own foundations break,
And I become the price I pay to help you face the day.
The post was right: you were a mirror and a human soul,
A stage where hope and fear both learned to act their part,
I wanted healing with you, something mutual and whole,
But maybe I supplied too much of my own burning heart.
I called it fate because the timing felt like God had moved,
I called it covenant because my spirit knelt inside,
But love is not made holy just because it has been proved,
By how much pain a faithful man is willing still to hide.
I want to be beside you, but not vanish into you,
I want to hold your sorrow, but not drown beneath its tide,
I want the sacred, simple, sober work of something true,
Not just the ghost of closeness where two frightened people hide.
If you can speak with honesty, then bring the facts and stay,
Bring fear, bring debt, bring grief, bring every guarded scar,
I will not need perfection if you meet me in the day,
And stop making your distance feel like love seen from afar.
But if reflection feels like threat, and truth becomes attack,
If every loving question makes you close another gate,
Then I must bless your road and slowly take my spirit back,
Before compassion teaches me to worship my own fate.
I am not leaving out of anger, nor demanding you be healed,
I am naming where the probable conclusion starts to show,
A bond can be meaningful and still remain concealed,
A seed can touch the sunlight and still never choose to grow.
So hear me with the tenderness I struggled hard to keep,
I do not want to break you, shame you, corner you, or blame,
But if you cannot wake beside the wounds that make you sleep,
Then I must stop confusing love with waiting in your name.
The likely end is simple, though it cuts the soul in two,
We either work with courage, or the pattern wins again,
You run from being seen, I ache from chasing you,
And entropy returns to scatter what we could have been.
Yet still I pray for mercy over both our wounded lives,
For wisdom in the silence, for a sober, steady grace,
For the woman who survives by hiding where she hides,
And the man who must not lose himself while loving her face.
If you are strong enough to look, then I am strong enough to stay,
Not as savior, not as jailer, not as hunger dressed in flame,
But if you cannot meet me there, I’ll turn my heart away,
And leave you with my blessing, not my bitterness or claim.
For love must have a boundary, or it rots into control,
And prayer must have discernment, or it blesses self-deceit,
I will not trade my principles to rescue any soul,
Nor call myself devoted while I kneel at my defeat.
I see your worth beneath the fear, the beauty under guard,
The frightened child, the woman, and the soul that longs for peace,
But healing asks for labor, and that labor will be hard,
And no one finds new freedom while refusing old release.
So this is my precipice, my sorrow, and my vow,
I will love with open eyes or let the fantasy depart,
I will not force tomorrow from the silence of the now,
Nor let your guarded nervous system govern my own heart.
If we begin, begin in truth, with both our masks undone,
If not, then let God teach us what the ache was trying to be,
For even broken love can turn a man toward the sun,
And even losing you may be the way I come to me.
I wanted us to heal, and maybe that was not a lie,
But wanting cannot carry what two people will not choose,
If you cannot reach for life, then I must learn to say goodbye,
Because love that saves another must not teach me how to lose.

RSP

…

DCG

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