Creative Writing · Dark · depersonalization · Depression · Free Write · Healing · Hope · Melancholy · Prose · Reflection · Relationships · Self-harm · Survivor · Writing

Moving Day

In march of 2015 I moved what few precious possessions I had decided to keep into this tiny studio apt that I would call home for the next 2 years. I did not have a bed. I threw out my dishes, clothing and books and gave away nearly all my furniture.

My first night in my little apartment was spent full of despair and confusion in my heart and mind. I was more than broken.  At the time I saw myself as hideous and unfixable. Undesirable in every way.  Though I sat troubled in this tiny room with my kitty wondering what possible terrible thing lay waiting for me next, I still had clarity enough to notice the quiet calmness around me. For the first time in several months I felt safe and the ton I had been carrying on my shoulders with chains dragging by my ankles were suddenly gone. I knew it was over and I felt guilty for enjoying that moment because I truly did not want any of it to be real.


I wanted to still be with the man I loved, even though his sickness was literally killing me. I did not want to feel peace without him. I wanted him and I wanted contentment but it was evident that those things could not coexist. Life with him was chaos. Unrelenting emotions at the blink of an eye. Unsuspecting pain and sadness that became a habit. Much like everything else of him, an addiction.


I struggled. I spent hours on that tiny bathroom floor sobbing. Sometimes putting slices in my thigh. Early into this journey it was late on a spring night and it was pouring rain and I just couldn’t be inside anymore. I took off down the street running. Soaking wet and panting. I walked up to the library. Everything was dark and dripping. There was a brick wall with a good ledge for sitting. I climbed up into the bushes and sat behind them. The trees above kept most of the rain off me, still I could not tell the difference between my tears and the earth’s weeping.


I lay there in the dirt for a long time. I do not know how long but my fingers became numb like the rest of me. I should have felt pain but I did not. I did not feel anything.


Around that same time. I had another evening. He called and got my mind all twisted again and I called my mom upset. I felt like I had no one anymore and she was far away and defending the others. I hung up and shut my phone off and climbed up the street and sat on the ledge looking down the cliffside. I could jump I thought. I could hope for a broken neck. Unlikely I considered and I sat looking into the dark tree tops waiting for this to end.


I spent my days working at my neighbor hospital. Watching mostly dead people roam by. It helped take my mind off my own suffering but watching people slowly die takes a lot out of one, one that barely had enough to give.


I never told my best friend that his anger at me pushed me over the edge. I called my boss in the morning and said “I’m not coming into work today. I haven’t slept because I spent the night pondering how best to kill myself.”  It goes without saying really that this did not end well. I panicked everyone and ended up naked on a ER bed with all my personal belongings taken away from me. I laid dead and numb for hours in that bed. I probably should have been admitted but I hated not having clothes and my phone so I played it off and instead got an uppage in my dose of medication and a leave of absence from work.


I never made it back.


My grandfather died a couple months later. I sat on that floor again. I wept until I passed out. I cried for hours, everyday for months. Sometimes the pain of missing him skips a beat of my heart and I find myself literally gasping and grasping at my chest. How does one recover from death? I do not think we ever do. One’s existence changes completely. You wake up a different person.


When you spend hours and days on days alone you learn things about yourself you previously thought incapable of. You forget the sound of your own voice. You have to talk out loud to remind yourself that you still exist. I would punch my skin to insure I was still alive. And indeed, this was all unfortunately not a dream.


Wake up. Go back to sleep. Forget. Remember and do it all over again. Write three papers, two at a time. Remember this is your purpose now. Just survive.


Today I packed up that tiny apartment, that hole I ran to as the world crashed all around me. I remember those days like a story, a novel of some other lifetime. Written and dedicated to me. I will not forget those days anytime soon but I look back as a proud mother. I nurtured myself along the way. I had to because no one else could or would.


Tonight you called me. I noticed a message four hours after. I do not listen. I do not read your words and I know you are waiting. Today I left the place I ran to because of you. Because of you I had to hide and I was begging for your calls.


Today I run only for myself. I despise what you did but I look back with a smile. Today you are begging for my calls. You long for what I used to crave. I go to bed at peace. 

Creative Writing · Free Write · Healing · I Miss You · Melancholy · Personal · Poetry · Pondering · Reflection · Relationships · Sleepy · Writing

I Always Will

I loved you more than any other chosen person in my life.

I still do.

I still miss so many pieces of you.


Sometimes I hear or see something that only you would get.

And I hear your voice echoing in my mind.

I hear your laugh next to me.

It is almost like you are here again.

And all the terrible things you did never happened.

Other times I feel lonely because I know there are

Aspects of this life, of this world that only you and I could ever remember and find special.

There are so many generic things in this world.

Repeats and reproductions.

But you are not one of them, not even close.


You are more special and beautiful to me than words can ever describe.

Trust me, I have tried over and over again for close to a decade.


My only wish after all this time, is that you could somehow see what I could.

Oh how I tred for all these years to give you what will take a lifetime to discover.

I wanted it now and that was selfish of me.

I know that.

But still, I miss you.


I wish everyday that we could have been, should have been…but I am slowly letting that go because I have to for my own sanity.


Please know that when I sit alone at night, wrapped in a blanket or looking up at the stars on a warm summer night that I remember you.


Not the ugly.

Not the lies.

Not the addictions.


I remember the soul I fell in love with.

That person exists.

The goodness you fear and the struggles you tried to hide.

I remember your excitement and your eyes and your pain.

I remember that I loved you purely.


Everyday since the beginning of time and into our next lives, a piece of me will always be waiting for you.

I will love you always, even when I know I must do it from afar  

Creative Writing · Free Write · Melancholy · Poetry · Pondering · Reflection · Writing

Free Write: Exhausted Reflections

I am sorry for being a terrible person. I am sensitive and it is hard for me to exist in this world.

I have a hard time going to work and committing to work and school and jobs.

I hate that part of me. I hate that people can’t trust me.

I am an honest person, I am just tired and out of place.

This feeling persists.

Sometimes it’s easier to stay in bed and not move for hours?

I wish I could explain this…spell it out eloquently and in serenity.

You were beautiful but created  dust.

Creative Writing · Depression · Free Write · Letter · Melancholy · Personal · Pondering · Prose · Reflection · Writing

Lost in the Supermarket

I visit often, mostly just to see you. Sometimes I feel we have a connection. Other times I am unsure if it’s just politeness. I have been hurt a million times and my heart is fragile. Mostly I am okay. I sleep alone. I eat alone. I feel okay on my own. But it’s been two years for me and I miss having a man’s arms around me and feeling enclosed, inside of another. I miss having someone to look forward to. Someone to share life with. Laugh with.

I see you and think, you could be that person. I am not often attracted to others but I feel strangely drawn to you. When we speak, I want to keep talking. To ask you questions about life and death and the universe.  Find out why you love Deftones so much and how I lost my virginity to White Pony. I think if you cared, if you were interested, you would have inquired by now. I have presented ample opportunity for it.


So here I sit writing to no one, or possibly the entire world. I think there is not one for me but that hopeful piece asks, maybe? Still do I wonder at your mysterious aura. I think about you as I walk away to my car again. I like to imagine you looking back or at least wanting to, and maybe even you wonder of me too…


More likely we will continue to pass each other in this market. Red shirt and a basket in my hand. I will smile and you will smile but go on in our own ways.


“I’m all lost in the supermarket
I can no longer shop happily
I came in here for that special offer
A guaranteed personality”

—-name that band

Personal · Prose · Reflection · Writing

Convocation

This last semester in our capstone course for the Health, Society and Policy major we were given the topic of “family” for the concentration of the course. I thought to myself, “ Family? Are we studying health? Can we really fill an entire semester talking about family?” I was slightly confused and irritated thinking I wanted a topic related to saving the world; something like environmental change, disease control or health care reform. I soon became aware of how ignorant that thinking was and I spent the rest of the semester not only humbled but with greater insight to my own family and health. I now say with confidence that family is one of the most important aspects of health.

If college has done anything for me, it has been the continuous realization of how much I do not know.

Perhaps the most significant revelation I had during this semester after all of the discussions and lectures was that I am not alone. I do not exist exclusively or without consequence. You also are not alone.

We are interconnected. We are not only an individual. We are family. We are our community. We are in this country together and we are all citizens of earth.

There has recently been much divide in this country and in this world. People are broken over political discord and it is easy to become discouraged when we look at the troubles of the world.

As new graduates I challenge you, as well as myself to not become so tangled in the big issues that we forget who we are and where we have come from. I know I am not alone in having aspirations to make positive changes in our world but it may be that we must start small. We start with ourselves and then our family, friends and neighbors. In the long run we may never make changes on a global scale. We may not be recognized by name or face or have prize winning achievements. But like a stone being thrown into the water, our actions will create ripples and reach others in ways we could not have predicted. As we adventure into the future and step into our chosen fields let us remember to keep throwing stones.

Now lets go make some ripples.

Creative Writing · Dark · Depression · Emotional Abuse · Free Write · Melancholy · Poetry · Psychological Abuse · Reflection · Sadness · Self-harm · Writing

Beauty and the Beast

Tw:suicide, self-harm

It was New Year’s day and I sat curled up in the oversized arm chair thinking, “I deserve so much better than this.”

That’s when I knew it was the end. That it was over and there was no going back.


Reasoning these actions:


That I should not have to be up all night rocking back and forth. Wondering where you are and who you are doing. Fearing the possibilities of what the next horrible thing you will do, without a care  or second thought for me. Driving myself insane trying to decipher truth from your lies….deciding it would be better to die than to live through another day with your sickness.


This is the point I got to. I looked at the hole you punched in the wall. The mess of your clothes on the closet floor. Empty bottles all around our big and lonely apartment. Where did I go wrong?


A million answers and I can not find the only belt I own. I know the guns are no longer at home.


Swollen eyes. Gashes on my legs. I am shaking on the floor again and looking for a way. I watched my world crumbling around me as a natural disaster.  Too incredible and unbelievable to look away.  I could not conceive how you left me in such a state.


You are every broken piece in me.


And I decided a while back that was never going to change. You still rattle about inside of me but I keep you in a cage. You are the moster I run from. The beast I try to hide. 

Broken Up · Creative Writing · Free Write · I Miss You · Personal · Poetry · Reflection · Relationships · Writing

I Wish…

I wish you knew how much

I would like to speak with you.

I wish that I could say this

I wish you had not left me.

I wish none of it was true.


I hoped always for our future.

That you would find a way.

But you dragged me through your madness.

Yes you took me to out to play.


I want nothing more than to love you and

I would have seared this world.

Instead I burned on the cross.

I sat displayed for the crowd.


A mocking.

A joke.

Just like you always say,

I wished I was a treasure, like the broken records you would play.


I wished that you were only mine and 

that is the one piece that was never true.

I wished the mountains would rip apart 

to bring me back to you.


I wished on wishes and the stars

and blowing blossoms in the wind.

I wished for God to prove me wrong 

and for saving grace to win.


I hoped as lovers hope to make a life,

Find a path out of our sin.

If I could leave and never return

My wish would be to win.