FiVe YeArs

 Within a week of being officially dumped by my baby-daddy, I rebounded. I rebounded hard. We were not a good match for each other. We had none of the same interests. But I could take care of him and drink with him and numb myself however I could with him. I let a friend move in. She needed a place to stay, and I invited her in. She took my rebound from me. My depression and self-doubt made it impossible to voice my concerns or even just my feelings to him and he left me for her. Over a text, while with her in my back yard. That was rough. At that point though, all the pain I had been burying for those 6 months finally came forth. I went for a drive. I grabbed two bottles of wine, a couple canvases and paint brushes. When I got home, I brought everything up to my room. Then I took both bottles of wine out to the back yard. I sat and drank from the bottle staring at the pond until I felt something click in my head. I physically felt some kind of click in the base of my skull. I can still hear it and feel it when I think back...

At the sound of that click, my thoughts changed. I suddenly felt a kind of eerie calm. I got up with my bottles. I went inside. Up the stairs to the bathroom. I grabbed a handful of expired aspirin and put the bottle back. I didn't want anyone to know what it was. I didn't want to be saved. I gave my 'dad' a hug. I gave my cat some love. I called my son, my friends, my mother... There's where my mistake was. She knew what I was planning. But it was too late. I had already downed the pills, chased them with the wine. I hung up with her and laid down. Everything started to blur by. I remember my 'dad' coming in frantically on the phone. I remember the EMT woman, she was kind. Next think I know I am at the ER. Friends come to see me, just friends, no family. My mood shifts to being a bit loopy. Until I start hearing a low rumbling in my ears. Like a train is coming. The doctor asked how long it had been happening (about 10-15 minutes at that point) then rushed me to the ICU.

Obviously, I lived. I am still here. Since that day I have the conscious ability to shut off my emotions to feel nothing but an eerie calm. It's been helpful a few times. I remember during rehab I learned that attempted suicide could cause PTSD. I don't know if I have PTSD from that experience. I know I've been feeling wrong for the past week or so, but I've just ignored it. I've been trying to push thru. It's just another day. I have no real reason to be upset. But today, I saw in my Facebook memories that it's my 5-year anniversary of the day I almost died by my own hand. The day the universe made me realize I had a purpose to stay and fight. The day I lived. I guess the anniversary was yesterday, now. I hate sleep. I never know what my mind is going to put me through. I will continue to keep my head up and push through. I can do that at least...

i DoN't HaVe To TrY

My life has been spent trying my best to stay out of the way. I don't like confrontation; I don't want confrontation. I can't handle angry energy. I just can't. I do my best to not upset anyone. But it just seems to happen. I don't have to try...

Growing up, my mom was jealous of how close I was with my dad. In stead of defending me, she abused me. It was throwing me against things, kicking/stomping on me, hitting me up until I learned how to use a phone. Then it turned into words. She knew just how to sharpen those words so that they would cut as deep as possible. There was fighting everyday. If it wasn't with me, it was with my dad about me. I couldn't escape it. I was an A/B student in school. I stayed out of trouble. I was a good kid. I did it all to show her that I was. I didn't understand at that time why she hated me so much. So I just stayed out of her way and out of her sight as much as I could. I didn't want to provoke something. But... it happened anyway. I didn't have to try.

I still have those instincts over a decade later. I still run from anger. Whether it's towards me or not. When I feel it in the air, I will keep to myself. I will hide. Doesn't matter if the anger is justified, I will react the same. I know I fuck up. I don't want anyone to hold back how they feel. It is what it is. I just have to "protect myself". When it feels like the anger has subsided I will come out of hiding and try to talk it out. But as long as I can feel it, I turn inward. When it's towards me, I will hide away behind closed doors and cry until I can't. If I can't do that, I am silent and stuck in my head in a kind of trance, "what did I do wrong? How could I have handled it better? Why am I like this? They're going to leave me now..." I will blame myself and try to fix it in my head. And go over and over in my head what to say or do next. Not that any of it likely comes out. I generally have a hard time finding words to speak. Anger has a way of finding me, I don't have to try.

Tonight, I fucked up. I shouldn't have let my frustration and feeling overwhelmed take such a strong hold on me. All I could think was to get out and drive. The child was restless, so I wanted to bring him for a ride and a walk at my calming place. Instead I just grabbed things and tried to walk out the door. It wasn't the way to do that. When you got upset, so did I. But not with you. I was mad at myself. I was mad that I upset you. And as much as I can't handle being around anger, it's just as hard for me to deal with my own. It jump starts my depression. But I did what I could to calm down. I turned on music. I cut my nails so I wouldn't cut myself. Depression hit me hard for some reason. And my brain went there. I have a difficult time getting back out of my head. Especially after crying. I hate that about me. It's so easy for me to be mad and stay mad at myself. I really don't have to try.

Know this, tho. I could never be angry with you. Or at least, I can't think of a situation that could happen to cause that. I saw that I messed up. I didn't want to do it again; not even accidentally. I know you can have a short fuse, especially when you're already stressed or upset like you were today. Just know that you are my world. You are a huge part of why I am so happy. I don't want to lose you. And I know beyond a shadow of a doubt that I love you with all I am. I don't have to try.

X

 Sick to my stomach talking to my own child all because I don't know if his father is listening. We'll call him X. X has all the control. Our child lives with him halfway across the country. One could argue that I did this to myself. I walked away from X. I lost my right to have any control. I've allowed for X to control me the way he does and use our son as a pawn to get me to follow his rules. Its not fair to our child. That's all it is.

I've tried to get our son to visit me when I lived in my home state. I lived with someone X knew and had no argument about being around, but he only visited once in 5 years. I've visited 3 times. I or my family paid for all the visitations. At this point, my life has moved me to a new state, with a new family, a new life. I am the happiest I ever thought I could be with a couple amazing people. I had a child with them recently. I have yet to tell my first child that he has a half brother because X didn't want him to know about the pregnancy. I could find reasoning to agree with that. I mean, what if something happened and the pregnancy became invalid. So I didn't say anything. But I gave birth over 3 weeks ago now. X has had some reason/excuse for telling me no. I've listened. If I were to go against his wishes I risk losing the ability to talk to my child. Tonight's excuse was that our child "has not been doing well". I tried asking why but he stopped replying. So I agreed to hold off on the introduction.

Yes! I have tried finding legal counsel! But its so difficult to find help from about 8,000 miles away and no money to put into legal counsel. I am losing my mind! I am currently angry. I just want to tell him off. Tell him the things I know. Tell him that I don't appreciate how much shit he talks about me, including in front of our child. Even when I've been alone with our child, I've never said one bad thing about X, however, he is convinced that I have and I will if given the chance. The nasty, insensitive things that he has said about me to other people, to the chicks he's screwing (because he apparently does more than one 'relationship' at a time), to and around our child... It astounds me. 

I shouldn't feel anxious and sick to my stomach every time I reach out to try to talk to my child. The chance that I have to talk to X makes me want to cry. I can't handle this much longer. I need to find help. I need to do something. But I'm scared. I'm scared I'll lose my child. I'm scared of X.

mOrTaLiTy

Mortality is something that crosses everyone's mind, especially the later in life you get. I think about it on a near daily basis. 

Sometimes it's my own. Will I make it through today? Is that car that's swerving going to hit me? Is today the day I end it myself? I don't like how dark my mind gets. I have kind of grown accustomed to it. It's just how my brain programmed itself over the many years of abuse and neglect. There are days I am just tired. Tired of being tired. It's near daily, but I function. I can do my chores. I can care for the dogs, for my people, for my child. I'm starting to get back in the swing of things. I see at least another week of pain and discomfort after pregnancy, but then I should be able to fully function the way I am supposed to. To take pressure off my people. I know it's not normal to thi k about or imagine your own death on a daily basis, especially when you're only just getting into your 30s. But I've always done it. I always have a plan. I just keep it tucked away. I keep it away from the people I care about. I don't want to die. It's just in my head. 

Sometimes it's my peoples'. I chose to be with people that have more milage than me. I chose to create a life with them. I chose to love them. I believe age is just a number. I've never related with anyone more than I have with them. Maybe I'm just more mature than most for my age. I don't know. But I've never wanted people in my life as much as I want them. As much as I need them. Knowing how much farther in life they are scares me. I catch myself wondering what I'm going to do with myself when they're gone. I try not to keep on that train of thought for too long, though. If I do I break down. I can't imagine what life would be like losing either one of them. I have no idea how I would cope. They are my people. They have my heart and soul. I would break if I lost either of them. Daily I realize it. I try to plan what I might do, where I might go if they go before me. 

Here I go again, crying. Thinking I could lose them one day. It hurts. It makes me feel like a hole is forming in my soul. But that's life. I do my best to just cherish the time I do have with them. Everyday I convince myself that they'll be here forever. That nothing can take them from me. We have so many adventures to experience together. So many memories to make. I won't let mortality define who I love; who I choose to spend my life with. 

pOsTpArTuM vS dEpPrEsSiOn

 

I don't know for sure if it's postpartum. It's been nine days since he was born. I'm not having any bad thoughts towards him, and I know that's a big symptom. I just don't feel myself. I don't feel right. I can't seem to sleep when I have the opportunity. I have no appetite. None. Nothing sounds appealing. The thought of food makes me nauseous. And I want to cry. I have no reason. I just want to cry.

I want to talk to my people. I want to let them know. But they already worry enough, especially with the little one. Plus I have no reason to be so off. It's not stopping me from functioning, though the lack of food is making me physically weak and dizzy at times. I don't know how I'd even bring it up.

"Hey. I'm feeling a bit off and I don't know why. I want to sit in bed and cry til I pass out." It sounds so stupid. It sounds like I'm looking for attention. I'm not. I don't want attention. I don't want anything. I just want to make it through each day. Just take everything a day at a time. 

I'm so damn tired.

I'm so damn weak.

I just want to be ok. For them. For him. 

I can do that. I can do this. Just need to force feed myself. Just need to make myself sleep. Just need to be there for my boy when he needs to be cleaned or fed. Just need to take this new chapter a day at a time. What else can I do? ... Hell, if I'm truely asking this, what do I expect them to be able to do? They can't help. I don't really want to talk. And when I do, I know I sound like a bitch. I know I sound like I'm giving attitude... I don't want to bring them down anymore.

SeVeN

 I am at a point where I hate me. I hate what I've done to get where I am. Only in the sense of my son. I abandoned him. I left him behind... I can't believe he's seven today.

When I found out I was pregnant, I was happy. I was excited to start a family with his father. I stayed with my surrogate dad until he was born. After staying in the hospital a couple days I moved in with him. It was great. He was such a good baby. Slept through all kinds of noise. His father seemed to be attentive to me and his son. Although looking back I recognize how much more time I spent with our son. But I was a stay at home mom at the time with his father hinting at me getting a job. Even though his mother, whom supposedly also worked was living with us. But too many times we were evicted. 

I trusted my son's father enough to move halfway across the country to live in his home state. Our vehicle got repo'd. I came home from grocery shopping one day to find all of our belongings in trash bags all over the apartment. But I stuck by him. I did not want to split my family up. Money was always an issue. I wanted to stay home and with my son all the time. I did not want to work. Sure, it kinda sounds bad, but stay at home mom is a thing. I wanted to enjoy it. I wanted to prove to myself that I could care for him like I never was. All the pictures I took drove people crazy sometimes. He was just too cute! Like every mom would say about their child. But he really was. I created this happy little child. I was so proud. I helped him walk. I taught him to dress himself before he was two. I helped him. I cared for him. I love him. I hate the distance. I hate the betrayal I feel with his father. 

I swore to myself when I concieved, that I would never take him from his father. He had already lost his first child through aweful means. The mother took off with his son and he never heard from them again. I swore I wouldn't do that to him.

I had to leave, though. I couldn't stand his mother. I couldn't stand him anymore. He made me feel like I was nothing. Everything was my fault. I couldn't ask about finances. I couldn't do much. And I was suicidal. Almost daily. Even with therapy. My therapist was proud of me for leaving. So I must have done something right. Even though I lost most of the people I was close to when I left my son behind. I didn't trust that I was a good enough mother, anyway. So the promise I made to myself worked out for the better, I suppose.

I can't believe he's seven today, though. I can't help but feel I failed him. He doesn't seem happy. I mean, he lights up when he sees me... I dont know. I just wish I could hold him. I just wish his father would hold up his end. He agreed to let him visit me this year. I've only traveled to him. And I've had to stay at their apartment because I couldn't afford a car and hotel/motel. It was so uncomfortable. I was so uneasy the whole time. Never alone with my son either. I was always being watched with him. I hated it. And now he's canceled having our son visit me...

I don't intend on talking shit about his father to him. I don't intend on turning him against his father. I don't want to run off with him. I don't want to cause any trouble, any stress. I just want to be able to see him on my terms for once. I hate me. I hate that I gave up. Maybe I should have just tried to end myself again when it didn't work a couple years ago....

But I love where I am. I love my people. My husband. My sistahwife. I love them. I love who I am around them. Who I've grown to be... But right now. In this drunken moment.... I hate me. I am a screwup. Its a matter of time before I do the same thing here....

Fuck... I miss him so much. My little man... He was two when I left.... I can't believe he's seven..

AfTeR mAtH

It's been nearly three days since my appointment. I am still guarded. I am still scared. What the hell? 

So I was poked and prodded by a doctor, who hasn't been? So I was restrained during the whole thing, that's part of an MRI. I'm so uneasy. My love is going to notice soon if he hasn't already. And he's going to assume it's him. But once again I find I am incapable of explaining what's going through my head. He tried having a little fun tonight and it made me want to cry. This isn't fair! Nothing happened like that at the appointment. I wasn't assaulted. I don't understand the fear and unease I'm feeling. I barely want to leave my room. I need to get over this... Now.

mRi

I generally do well at the doctors. Hell, I've been to the hospital enough for the process to be second nature to me. However, something about this time just has me overwhelmed and guarded. 

First, I was given the wrong address, which brought me to the Emergency Room. I called from the parking lot, confused that I'd go to the ER for a scheduled MRI. The woman on the phone told me it's the same building, someone from the ER will walk me over. I thanked her and hung up the phone.

The receptionist inside the door directed me down the street to the main entrance, which is not posted except on a sign next to the street. I still had to guess which building to enter. I told security, whom was sitting at a desk just inside, I had an appointment for an MRI. She gave me a visitor tag and told me to sign the red clip board in the room around the corner. I found a red clip board at an unoccupied desk. I signed in at 3:38pm for my appointment at 4pm. At 3:56pm the first staff member I had seen since entering the waiting area took me to a desk for registration. After about five minutes of minimal questions he escorted me to the MRI waiting area. Around 5pm I was thanked for my patience and brought to a tiny room with a locker and instructed to only remove my bra. No questions to double check I wasn't wearing metal. Hell, I was wearing a sports bra, so no wire and no clasp, but he didn't ask. I removed my bra and locked it up with my purse. I'm glad I did some research before the appointment. I waited another 10 minutes for the technician to return. He had me sit in a chair in the hall to sign a waver for the dye they needed to give me for the second scan while he got everything ready. He brought me in. He was unnervingly polite. I laid on the table with my head wedged on a special head rest so I couldn't accidently move during the scan. He gave me ear plugs and told me the whole thing, including the second scan, would take about 26 minutes total. He locked a cage around my head and the scan began. 

After some time of just trying to meditate as to not start panicking about the confined space I was in, the table rolled out and he began to look for a vein for the IV to inject the dye. He started on my right arm. Put the rubber band around nice and tight. Then started poking and slapping my arm. He couldn't seem to find a vein, so he went to the other arm. And started searching. My right arm was going noticeably numb; the rubber band was still on it. He came back around to my right side and attempted a jab in my forearm. He moved the needle around unable to find a vein. He pulled the needle out and wiped the hole with an alcohol swab then removed the rubber band and moved to my left arm. He put the band around my bicep and attempted a jab. While still in my arm he leaned over to see my face to ask if he was hurting me, in the process pushing the needle in more. I couldn't get words out and tried to nod with tears starting to escape my eyes. He pulled the needle out at an angle it seemed, as the pain got intense for a few seconds before I felt blood running down my arm then a couple swipes of an alcohol swab. He took the rubber band off then wrapped it around my left forearm to try finding a vein there. The rubber band was too tight. It hurt more than the needle going into the back of my hand. He pulled the needle out and told me loud enough to hear through my ear plugs that he was going to add another band to try to help find a vein. I tried to nod as I still couldn't seem to find my voice; terrified as my arm tingled. Feeling helpless I stared at the ceiling and cried as the second band is tied on. He tried again in the back of my hand and failed. 

He finally informed me that he's going to call over to CAT Scan to see if someone could help him. After calling he came back over and removed both rubber bands from my forearm and went back over to my right arm. He put a band on and informed me he was going to try one more time. A woman from CAT Scan walked in just then and he let her take over. She introduced herself to me then inserted the needle without issue. I assume one of them injected the dye because next I hear him saying it'll only be another six minutes. I felt the table start to roll back so I flip my switch and went emotionally numb at that point. I didn't want to cry and end up being the reason the scans came out bad. I did not want to be the reason I'd have to go back there. It seemed like forever in the tube when I felt the table rolling back out. Panic set in as I started thinking the worst. I held it all in, not wanting him to see fear. He removed the IV then unlocked the head cage. Everything in me wanted to jolt upright, but my head was spinning and so was the room. I passed him my ear plugs with mildly shaky hands and sat up slowly. I had to sit on the table for a minute to orient myself. He noticed and told me to take my time. Without even an attempt to help me off the table he directed me to the little room where I had locked my bra and purse in a locker. I got dressed. I walked out to the lobby. I said goodbye to the security lady as I left through the first set of doors.

I felt the heat of the day coming through the second set of doors. I stopped and search my purse for my keys. That's when I noticed how much I was shaking. I made it to my car and started it. I set my music. I lit a cigarette. I took a couple swigs of hot water from the bottle I had left in the car and looked at the clock... it was after 6:30pm. 

Where had the time gone? I went into the MRI no later than quarter past 5. He told me 26 minutes... so let's say the scan took 26 minutes total... he spent nearly 50 minutes torturing me... the woman who helped was prompt and did it in one shot... so he bruised and stabbed my arms for almost an hour! With my head caged it was difficult to move anything else. I didn't want to cause more trouble, so I did what I was told. I clenched and unclenched my fists. I tried to be responsive from what I could hear through my ear plugs. I couldn't see anything but the ceiling. I couldn't move. All I could do was lay there and take it... lay there and take it... lay there and take it... 

Is this another flashback thing? All I can think of is GG. And the bruises I played off as hickies.. Being tied down to his bed as he beat me and choked me. And going home to no reactions to my tears or new marks. 

Forget it. Never mind it. 

I just hurt. My arms hurt. I have a bruise on each arm from the bands. I have 5 puncture wounds total. I have a headache. And the feeling of wanting to be held. Wanting to cry. But not feeling like I can trust anyone. 

That's not right. I know I can. But I can't. Walking through this is more painful than I thought it would be. Imma go outside and watch the rain for a while. If I'm lucky, I'll be asleep before 2:30am.

AnOtHeR dAy

 I don't know what I'm doing here. I wanted to write something, maybe help me feel better. But there's nothing. There's nothing "wrong". Everything is great, technically. No one has hurt me. No one has been mean. Nothing bad has happened. I just feel lonely. I just feel homesick. I'm not sure what for. I've never felt anywhere to be home. I am still scared to call where I am now home. It could end in the blink of an eye. 

I want to drink. 

That would be bad. It helps nothing. It doesn't even make me feel better like I convince myself every time I get a drink. But the craving is there. Again..

What's wrong with me?

I just want to be ok.

I feel. I feel too much. I feel frustrated. I feel alone. I feel hated. I feel sick. I feel tired. I feel sad. I feel hopeless. I feel like I'm the lost cause everyone has told me I am. I gave up once. It didn't end well. I was "saved". I shouldn't be here, you know. I should be six feet under. But I'm not. I must have a purpose, right? Thats how these things work? So what is it? I'm tired of the game and puzzles. Just tell me. Just show me. Just let me be ok.

I want to help.

There's nothing I can do though. I feel I am part of the problem. I can't help anything when my presence is the issue. I'm stuck.

Just stay out of the way. It's what I'm best at. No. That's a lie. I've always been in the way. 

Just shut up. Keep going. It's just one of those days. Hormonal. Moody. Over emotional. It happens. Remember, "you feel how you feel, there's nothing wrong with that". Yeah. I know. I tell everyone that. I swear by it. It makes helping easier. I feel. You feel. We all feel. It's a reaction, not a choice. So keep going. Stop moping. Stop trying to find something to blame. Most of all, communicate.

i DoN't KnOw WhAt To TeLl YoU

 I don't know what to tell you. 

I still think about him. Especially recently. I can feel him on me. I feel his touch. I feel his gaze. And it makes me sick. It makes me feel so damn awful. Even now, writing it out, I feel the need to puke. I cry and pray that the feelings stop. Thank I can't feel him on my skin. Its been so fucking long since I've been anywhere near him. Yet it's like yesterday in my head. How do I make it stop. I don't want to sleep because there he is.

"What's so wrong with a daughter sitting on her father's lap?" I cringe just thinking about it. That last time he had his way. 10 years ago now. I guess I never fully dealt with the pain of it. The humiliation and fear. I keep feeling the fantom brush of his hand on my arm. 

I just want to sleep. I want to rest. I want it to be over. Will I feel better when he's gone? I didn't when his wife left this earth. I still have all the fear and paranoia she instilled in me. All the self-doubt and -hatred. I hate my head. I hate me. I want to end it.

I don't know what to tell you. I am ashamed that I still feel him on me. I can't just admit it. I can't just say it. How can I? I can barely admit it to myself. I shut down. I shut down in hope that I may shut down my mind, my thoughts, my feeling. I am ashamed. I am hurting. 

I don't know how to tell you. I don't know how to let it go. I don't know why it's so engraved in my damn head.

That MRI appointment he took me to, 10 years ago, was the last time. The last time he said what he wanted and did what he wanted. No one knows everything of that day. Not even my guardian at that time. Not even my family. Not even the court. No one. And I do my best to push it back and make myself forget. Usually I drink it away. But I no longer have the appetite for the stuff. So I'm stuck. In my head. Unable to speak my truth. Unable to process it all. Unable to let go. Unable to understand why I can't. Not able to understand how he was able to do that and lie to everyone about the restraining order, turning me into the villain I didn't see him as until recently...

I don't know what to tell you...

sLeEp

I hate this. Laying in bed, waiting for sleep that seems to be avoiding me. Seeing that scene in my head play over, keeping me from even wanting to close my eyes. It's in the past, why can't it just stop? I've watched it over and over, yet here it remains. Locked in my head. It's not even the worst thing to ever happen to me. I don't get it. 

I had such a good day. A rough start, sure, but it ended well. Seeing the respect I have gained from loved ones. Learning just how much I can be me to the point that I didn't even recognize myself. That's terrifying. 

I want to sleep. I have what I need to sleep. Sure, I could take some kind of sleep aid, but I'll wake as tired as when I fall asleep, so what's the point? I don't think I've ever really been able to sleep through the night. If it's not one thing it's another. I mean, this time of year has me spiraling anyway, and I can't even explain it. I hate this. I hate me. I don't know what's wrong with me. Or how anyone can put up with my nonsense. I can't make sense of it. So it must be nonsense. 

I just want to rest. Just once.

gOoD dAy?

 

It's been a good day. I slept about 9 hours. I got up and got dressed. I went on a work trip with my love. Driving around. I slept a couple times in the van. We talked about nothing. We laughed. We ate. I made it through the day. I did it. I kept up the mask today. As much as I wanted to curl up and stay home in bed. As much as I wanted to just not get up. I just wanted to lay there are cry. I got up. I functioned. Good for me. I did what any normal person has to do on a daily basis. I feel shitty for feeling proud. Especially since I did all this and got home to feel just as shitty as when I woke. I just want to cry. I just want to curl up and not wake up. I just want all the damn tension to be gone. 

I think the main issue is, when I got home, jokes were made at my expense. Calling me blonde because I got the foods mixed up. If I weren't already so on edge around you, maybe I could have laughed along with you. But instead it felt more like you were laughing at me. And just the other night you claimed we shouldn't talk and that you're not comfortable around me. And I heard the follow up when I didn't give you the response You wanted, "I guess someone can't take a joke". I heard you. But you want to joke with me? I can not handle this back and forth. I've been doing my part. I've stayed away. I've tried to stay alone so you have "your people" all to yourself. I wasn't going to say anything to anyone about playing with my ritual knife. I wasn't going to tell anyone about wanting to run it down my arm. I wasn't going to say anything about part of me wanting to plunge it through my gut. I wasn't going to tell anyone that I had nightmares about actually following through with it. I don't want the attention like you do. And I don't want to stand in your way. 

I don't want to worry anyone. To do that, I keep my mask on. I play the part and it's like I am fine. It's like I'm actually happy. No one has to worry. No one has to suspect... However, I did tell them. I told them most of it. I told them my thoughts. I told them most of it. For safety reasons alone. I don't want the attention you hope to get. I want to actually get help and fix my mental health, not find loopholes so a professional isn't sought out. I actually want to be better. I can't let myself be brought so low by someone who doesn't see their own faults. I need to stay strong...

But another day down where everything is technically fine. I mean, today was better throughout the day because I was out and about with someone who did everything he could to keep me smiling and comfortable. And now I am sitting here wishing for... well nothing good. I slept last night, but I woke exhausted again. I kept my mask in place today and also felt happy for the most part. But I am still struggling to hang on. I hate it. I hate it so damn much. I just want to live somewhere and for once feel absolutely comfortable and not like a goddamn target. But it was a good day. Right?

oVeRwHeLmEd

I woke up. I did my chores. I sit alone in my bed unable to move. Unable to really function. My anxiety so high with no real reason. I cry. It doesn't help. It makes the hole feel bigger. So damn drained. I find myself questioning my purpose again. It's not healthy. I don't know what to do. I just want to function properly. I just want things to be peaceful again. Progress is made followed by ten steps backward. I don't know how to keep living this way. Relapsing is in the front of my mind. I won't, but it's there. I need to acknowledge it or it'll eat at me until I break. So it is there. I may cry again, but I don't think I have any tears left. As much as I am loved and cared for by two, the one with hatred is so overwhelming it makes the light so hard to see. I try to help and I'm still wrong, I'm still terrible, I'm still a monster. I try to help and I end up triggered, I end up haunted, I end up drained, I end up wishing it was all just over. 

I hate me. No matter where I go, no matter who takes me in, I end up the monster, the target, the hated. It's not just that, though. It's all with such force that I can't see through it, past it. I can't see all the good. It's overwhelming. I've done well training myself to see the good, to look for the silver lining in everyday. But it's getting so damn hard. I still end up waking from a restless night, doing my chores, and wondering why the hell I'm even alive...

LaCk Of ReSt

Everyday has felt like a chore lately. I go to bed drained and wake up exhausted. Yes, there has been conflict, but not enough to merit such a strong spell of depression. But I don't let it stop me. I wear a mask most days. A nice smile that keeps the questions at bay. I'm not ok, but I can't say it because I have no cause to it, I just am. I need a reason to feel so low. The most common thing I catch myself thinking, "I hate this. I hate me." And this has been eating at me and draining me further. I just want to sleep and rest. I want to feel refreshed. But I'm so low that my unconscious mind is unable to let me rest. And it's a vicious cycle. At this point caffeine spikes my anxiety, but that's it. It increases my heart rate, I have a physical reaction but I don't feel anymore awake. I try napping, but I can't. I lay in bed with my eyes closed just listening to the sounds around me and thinking. Always thinking. I could take a sleep aid. It'll knock me out, but I'll wake feeling just as tired as before I slept. I just want to relax, to sleep, to feel refreshed. Part of me feels scared, but I can't place why and I have nothing that's happened to cause any fear. Yet there it sits heavy on my chest. This fear of...I don't even know. Oh how I wish I did. I hate not understanding my mind. I need to know or I get more anxious, more upset. This depression is getting to be too much. I don't want it rubbing off on anyone. And my mask is getting more difficult to keep fully sealed on my face. The truth is seeping through, I can feel it. I'm too tired to pretend I'm ok. I continue to try, to force it for the sake of everyone else. Only because I care. I want to cry, but my eyes hurt from all the crying and lack of rest. I want to curl up and not move, but I have things that need to get done. I just want to stay in bed all day, but I know it'll make some worry. I just need to sleep. I just want to fucking rest..

bReAkInG tHe VoW

I vowed no one would know. No one would hear this story. No one could shame me more than the shame I feel coursing through me. It's been 4 years and I never thought about him again. This flashback I had. It shook me to the core. It shook me on a physical level. That's how I know it needs to come out. But I can't voice it. I can't physically talk about it. I fear it'll break me. So this is the next best thing...

My fianceé had dumped me. He lied and broke my spirit. I started meeting guys online. After this day, I never met anyone online again. I never told a soul. No one even knew I was gone...

I agreed to meet him at his house around 6pm. I don't even remember his name. I was expecting a house. I was expecting a gentleman. He was so charming and reassuring online. He met me out front and instructed me on where to park. It was the size of a trailer and he lived in the basement. A hand-full of vehicles of different types all but one broken down surrounding the building. The only bathroom was upstairs. He told me to use it if I needed to because I wouldn't be allowed back upstairs. That's when I knew I should run. But I was already inside and he was behind me. He was twice my size. I didn't stand a chance. I was scared and said I was fine. We went down stairs. There was trash and litter on the floor. Stained areas from leaking. An area of blankets in the middle of the floor as a makeshift bed. And a couch off to the side; stained and dirty. He told me to strip. I just stared at him in shock. He tried being charming again and started helping me. He told me to lay on the floor, on the blankets. I did. He turned on the TV. We watched for a few minutes. I don't remember what. I was taking in all the half burned candles and ritualistic looking items scattered around as decor. He rolled me over and started taking me from behind. Then he pulled me on top. Then he pushed me to my feet and led me to the couch with his hand on the back of my neck. He tried for anal. I screamed. He kept telling me to be quiet but I couldn't. I didn't have control. He put his hand over my mouth and nose until I passed out. When I woke I was laying on the floor next to him again, still naked. My ass throbbing. He asked if I needed to pee. I thought about being let upstairs and just running out the door; I said yes. He laid on his back and told me to stand over his face and go. I stood there for 10 minutes. I couldn't do it. My body wouldn't let me.

He'd had enough. He hit the backs of my knees so I fell to me knees on the floor above his head. He got up and took me from behind again. When he was finally done I was exhausted and passed out. When I woke it was about 6 the next morning. I had to pee so fucking bad. I was terrified to move. He was on the floor next to me. I laid their praying for it all to be over, for it all to be a dream. I felt him stir and the next thing I know he's inside me going as hard as he can. I lose control and pee on the blankets. He doesn't seem to notice as I cry. When he was done he hit me then yelled at me for the mess. He got up and grabbed a towel and told me to clean it. I stayed on my knees and soaked as much as I could into the towel. 

He sat on the floor then told me to give him a massage. I did. I did until it hurt to move my arms and had to stop. He yelled at me again. I can't even remember about what..

He got a phone call soon after and had to leave. As soon as I heard the door I shakily got dressed and grabbed my purse. I waited a few more minutes then booked it up the stairs and out to my car. I left as soon as I closed the car door. I made it to a store nearby where I parked and cried. I sobbed for about an hour, shaking and trembling and trying to get my head on straight. When I calmed down enough to see, I put on my seatbelt and headed home. No one greeted me. No one noticed my absence. No one noticed the marks on my neck and face.

It was better that way. I didn't have to explain. I didn't have to lie. And no one would ever know. No one could ever know. The flashback brought back that debilitating fear. I even cowered away from the man I love. His touch. His curious and concerned gaze. I couldn't tell him. What would he think of me? It's one confession that will never leave my lips. But it needs to come out. So I turn to the internet ...

LiTtLe AbOuT mE

 Recently found an essay from a hospital visit. I had to recap what put me in there. This was written when I was 17, a senior in high school... Here goes..

When I was 10 months old I was put into foster care. My older sister and I had been separated against our mother's wishes. But the judged claimed that because of parentification, my sister wouldn't grow up to live a normal life. She is now 19 years old and in college. When I was three years old my sister and I were adopted into separate families 30 minutes apart. When I was little I would have visits with her regularly. She was adopted into a religious, happy, caring family. I wasn't so lucky. Turns out my adoptive mom only wanted me because I wouldn't remember being adopted. I didn't figure out I was until middle school after asking the right questions.

I grew up living with my mom, dad, brother, and sister. They were both younger than me and biologically related to each other. My mom and I never really got along. To her I was like a puppet; I did what I was told and kept my mouth shut while she bad mouthed the few people she had in her life. My dad and I have gotten along for the past few years; starting when he realized the hell his wife was putting me through. Before that he would yell at me if she told him to and would always side with her in any and all situations. My brother is a year younger than me. For the most part we get along. I've had to call the cops on him, he's hit me, and has issues with anger and drugs. Actually, not too long ago my brother got into it with mom and ended up taking a hammer to a closet door that she wouldn't unlock for him. When the smoke settled she took him out and when they got back he had an ipod touch. This pissed me off. My younger sister is 4 years younger than me and for the most part we get along. She's always been the princess who can get away with anything and go anywhere with anyone she wanted. Neither of them ever being forced to do any chores. If I ever asked to go to a friend's house, I'd be yelled at for asking.

Mom and I never got along, as I mentioned earlier. I remember when I was 5 or 6 and learning to read. I was working on Dr. Seus's Hop On Pop. I had trouble pronouncing one of the stupid long words. I sat at the kitchen table being scolded to sound it out. But I lost interest and started watching all the daycare and foster kids play outside. After about a half hour mom got fed up and grabbed me by the hair, pulled me out of the chair throwing me against a wall and a counter. My mouth started bleeding so I looked up at her and told her. She sighed and dragged me to a bathroom to shove a wet washcloth in my mouth for a minute. After that, she sent me to bed even though it was the middle of the day. I napped and woke to her looking for clothes for my sister and I remember getting excited claiming my tooth was loose, not really connecting to what caused it. About a week later I went to a friends house and ended up telling my friend's mom about what happened. MISTAKE! She called mom when I wasn't around and confronted her. Mom convinced her it had been a bad dream. When I got home she scolded me and managed to convince me that it was a dream too. Though I've never able to even touch a Dr. Sues book again.

When I wasn't in school I had chores to do. I vacuumed the basement, cleaned the three gerbil cages, organized the basement, dusted the whole house, vacuumed my room and the family room, made all five beds, washed the dishes, dried the dishes, put dishes away, vacuumed and brushed the in-ground pool, raked, swept, cleaned up toys, and helped take care of kids (ages ranging from new born to seven years old; as many as 12 in the house at a time). However, I did forget to do some things on occasion. I remember one day mom verbally listed off chores and things to do and I forgot to bring a gallon of orange juice from the basement fridge. For two hours she made me follow her around the house, then outside as she hung clothes on the line. Finally I remembered and told her I would go get the juice. She told me she already did and sent me to my room.

Around middle school age, I was talking to my biological sister on the phone and I asked her about our biological parents. And she only knew what she remembered. She was two when we were removed, so I wasn't going to fully believe her, but it was nice to get some kind of something to explain it. I guess she heard fighting downstairs and saw I was awake in my crib. She grabbed me and climbed out on a ledge outside our bedroom window. A neighbor saw and called social services. After she explained what she remembered I heard a click and realized someone had been listening in on our conversation. Turns out mom had sent my brother to the phone in the basement to listen in. Mom came at me yelling and cussing. I ran with my sister still on the phone and locked myself in the bathroom and sat behind the door. Mom unlocked it and began squishing me between the door and the wall. I was screaming in pain and fear. Mom finally got in and grabbed the phone. She immediately hung up and told me that my sister was lying and she would tell me the truth when I was ready. After that I was only allowed to talk to my sister if mom was on the other line. I only talked to her maybe 2 times in the span of a couple years, until I got my cell phone.

Come 8th grade I was really starting to notice my depression. About halfway through the year I started cutting my arms. Initially it was to get attention from my parents. But the more I did it the more it felt like a release; a greater pain than the pain of my emotions. It felt so good. After a while my friends started to notice. They'd tell me it wasn't healthy and to stop. I started feeling guilty and overwhelmed so I would cut. When I finished I'd feel worse about cutting and cut more. It was an endless, vicious cycle. That same year my best friend passed away of cancer. I know she was technically mom's friend, but she was the only person I felt close to. And when she was gone, mom became more hostile.

My freshman year I was raped by my brother's friend from church. I couldn't remember it. But the blood the next morning was a hint. Plus he called me to tell me that his protection broke. I was petrified. I didn't tell anyone until we started family counseling. I grew to trust one of the counselors and told her; she promised to keep it between us. The next time she visited she told me she had to tell my mom even though my dad already knew. I begged her not to. After that I refused to talk to her. After a few more weeks she told me she gave up and never came back. And because of that counselor my new nickname was whore. During that summer I was barely home. I would leave notes saying where I was going, and I'd leave. Mom and I weren't talking at that point, but I wanted to do the right thing and at least let her know where I would be. One day I met up with my boyfriend of the time at the library. Talked and played in the grass until he got a phone call from our friend. He told us that my niece called him saying I was missing and had been for 8 hours (when I had only been gone for 4). She threatened to call police so my boyfriend and I started walking back to my house. We stopped at the convenience store next door where his mom picked him up. I walked over and as I set foot on our yard my niece came out yelling and cussing about leaving and being a terrible person and irresponsible. Mom stood in the door and watched. After the yelling I lost it and went in the woods to attempt bleeding out. Dad found me and took me to my first therapy session that had apparently been scheduled that day. I lasted five minutes before she had me sent to the ER to tend to the gashes in my arms. I was sent to a hospital for the first time where I stayed for a week. During one of my family meetings mom said something that took me off guard and upset me deeper than I thought possible. She told the counselor, "I just want the old Nikki back". I couldn't believe she said it. She caused this. I am still me. I couldn't understand. 

Sophomore year my brother and I went on a bike ride. When we got back we put our bikes away and went out for a swim. I was standing at the edge of the deep-end when I heard her yell, "If you say one more thing I will go put holes in your bike tires!" She was talking to my brother. Then she turned and glared at me, so I smiled waved and said, "Hi, mommy!" as I jumped in the water. When I came back up from the water I heard her cussing and yelling and heading to the shed where our bikes were with a steak knife. I followed her trying to get her to stop. She picked up a shovel leaning on the shed and took a few steps towards me, so I took a few steps back, but continued to follow. My brother had caught up to us by this time (later telling me he wished she had hit me with the shovel so he would have had a reason to attack her). She continued cussing and at one point mentioned calling the cops so I retorted, "what are you going to tell them, a bunch of lies?" This pissed her off enough to run towards me with the steak knife held up; I booked it into the pool where I knew she wouldn't follow. She ended up letting air out of the tires. The following weekend, I got home from school where she told me that cops had shown up looking for me. Terrified I ran to my room and cut. Turns out a friend of mine called them looking for the number for social services to send a complaint about the previous weekend. The cops came back that evening and saw the damage I had done to my arms and convinced me to get in the ambulance. After a week in the hospital a detective shows up to investigate. I told him everything. He also talked to everyone else. When he left he deemed it was a normal relationship between mother and daughter. The case was dropped.

Junior year was the year of nicknames. One day I was helping my dad on the roof. We'd been removing shingles for a couple hours and he asked me to go make him some iced tea. As I finished mom came at me with "Daddy's little girl", "gotta go help daddy", and my personal favorite, "Daddy's pussy". I yelled back "stop harrassing me!" and she yelled back "NO!".

Later in the fall I was assaulted on the bus. A kid forced me to give him a blow job. Yes, there were other people there, no, I didn't scream. This kid had punched me in the face a few times before for playfully taking his hat. I had laughed it off thinking I deserve it. A friend of mine catches wind of the assault and tells a counselor who contacts the police and I am forced to court. Restaining order and all which is still ongoing. After that I had even more issues concentrating in class and my grades started slipping. This was hard on my because I took pride in my grades. I always got As and Bs with occasional Cs. My depression got so bad that I even started cutting in class. The teachers didn't even notice. I would have occasional meltdowns during lunch. I would feel them coming on and would run out of the room. At one point I was followed by my bestest friend. She convinced me to go with her to see my counselor. Little did she know I was planning to jump off the third story stairwell where she found me. From there I was picked up by my dad who brought me to the hospital. I went to one for a week then transferred here for a week. And when I leave I will be getting a fresh start with a foster family who happens to be a friend of mine from school. I look forward to using the coping skills I've learned here....

So many memories. I actually hadn't remembered all of them when I decided to read through it.. Longer than I expected and I can feel a spiral coming on.... Deep breaths....

WaTeR aNd MoOn

Sitting at the waters edge

Seeing it glisten and shine

The moon staring patiently back at me

Through her reflection

The water looks so calm and inviting

But I wonder if I were to dive in

Would I want to come back up?

Just sink and let the gentle flow hug me

I worry I'd enjoy that hug too much

And I have people who care

And people I care for

I couldn't try it again

I wouldn't.

So I sit and let my mind wander

To the past and the present

I'm terrified of the future

I won't let my mind wander there

A day at a time

One foot in front of the other

Sitting to breathe and reorient myself

The water is beautiful tonight

So still it's like I'm looking at the sky

The moon is watching

She doesn't judge

She knows the struggles

And she sends her light to remind me

How far I've come

How lucky I am to have what I have

Just a few more breaths of this quiet moment

Maybe I'll even go home

But that's in the future, no matter how close

And I won't go that far ahead

aLl ThAt RePiTiTiOn

You left people behind for this.

You left places behind for this.

You left pets behind for this.

You left settling behind for this.

You left everything behind for this.

Your happiness comes first.

And you're just so happy.

So damn happy.

Talking to someone who twists your words.

Talking to someone who looks for loopholes in your reasoning.

Talking to someone who clearly has no interest in your feelings.

Talking to someone who only cares about themselves.

Talking to someone who feels they are always right.

Talking to someone who invalidates your emotions.

Talking to someone who doesn't feel they need

to apologize for their actions or their hurtful words.

Trying to hang on.

Trying to believe in the happiness you found here.

Trying to stay happy.

Trying to sleep.

Trying to eat.

Trying to make them happy while you're on eggshells.

Trying to fight the urge that has surfaced for the first time in months...

fInDiNg WoRdS

 For days I've been searching for words.

The best words to show my feelings for you.

A cute meme with the words that I can't seem to fully express on my own.

An actual poet with the right finesse to clarify my feelings.

But nothing seems to be just right.

Nothing seems to dictate exactly where my heart stands.

I want to use words that are just right.

Words that after you read them will cause you to look at me

With those deep, soulful eyes of yours.

I see the look every now and then.

Sends shivers down my spine and butterflies around in my soul.

It's like you get me, you see me, you want me, you need me.

I can't even find the right song to express it.

It's frustrating.

I wish you could see into my mind more clearly. 

I wish looking into each other's eyes would be enough to relay

The thoughts that flutter around in my heart.

As nervous as I am, I look forward to whatever our future holds.

I want to fasten my soul with yours.

I want to have a child that has your brilliant mind and unblinking kindness.

A heart so large and mind so bright that nothing will make her falter. 

I know not what the future holds.

But with you by my side, I know I can handle it.

I will have my bad days.

Likely more often than most.

I am still fighting my demons from the distant past and recent.

I promise to stand by you, fight for you, love you, and cherish you.

I don't expect everyday to be amazing.

I don't expect to have your undivided attention all the time.

I love you. I trust you.

As much as I am currently capable.

Maybe one day I'll find the perfect poem, perfect words.

Able to portray the thoughts that flutter through my mind

Every time I think of you. Every time you're away.

I hope these words will suffice for now.

I will continue hunting for just the right message to tell you

How much I love you.

TaLkInG tO mYsElF aGaIn

 I'm trying.

I'm trying so hard.

Leave it be, Sarah.

Nothing more you can do.

Wake up. let the big girls out. feed the rabbit. let the small girl out. put the dog breakfast down. feed the chickens. let the girls in to eat. have a smoke. get dressed. check laundry level. do dishes. maybe clean something. distract yourself. play music. drown out the world that seems to be continuously crumbling around you.

I hate this.

The constant frustration.

Walking on eggshells.

The constant repetitive arguments.

Just one good day. its all I wanted. just the one. it looked promising, a wonderful date night. but not my luck. not my life. no. but I'm not the only one suffering. it's not fair. how can someone want things to be peaceful then turn around and look for drama. look for something to complain about? you said you want us to be happy. well, that's not possible if you can't let go. it's just not. I guess that's fine for you because you continue to get what you want. no worries there.

Stop it.

Not your place.

You have no say in this.

Shut up.

Yet I need to let it out. I need to say something. I know, its the same shit, different day. I get it. it sucks. neck, shoulders and back feel ready to break. so much tension. vitamins aren't doing their job. headaches everyday, still. can barely move most days, but I push through it and hope no one notices. been taking up enough of everyone's time. keep to myself, its safer that way. no one else gets hurt by your words. 

Still not your place.

Keep your mouth shut.

You're making things worse.

Focus on yourself.

how does one focus on not being stressed in a stress-filled environment? continue walking on eggshells. things will work out, right? could try meditating. being wanted to be social, yet all I want to do is hide in my room where I can't cause anymore problems. no stress if I don't get involved, right? no. it finds me. it always does.

Keep your head down.

Keep your mouth shut.

Try to only be visible when wanted.

You've got this.

mInD vS hEaRt

 All I want is to be happy.

All I want is to be loved, cared for, and appreciated.

I've found that.

I've found a forever home.

But I've thought that before.

What will become of me,

When they tire of me?

What will become of my heart,

If I trusted wrong again?

I hate this feeling that sticks in my soul

And screws with my mind.

Too many times I've gone through hell.

Too many times, I've had to tape, glue, and staple

My heart back together.

Pieces are still missing from all the abuse and confusion.

My heart wants to trust so badly.

My mind knows it's never going to be the right time.

Everyone leaves.

Everyone will tire of me.

Everyone will ultimately hate me.

My mind is cruel.

My heart is too lonely to think clearly.

I love you.

I truly do.

I am in love with you.

That's terrifying for me.

But how do I let go of the past that has me crippled?

How do I make myself trust again?

How can I let myself feel this bliss?

I'm just not sure I can.

I hope you don't hate me for it.

Anew

I've started anew.

Wiped my slate clean;

Unfamiliar surroundings all around.

Of my future, I will be queen.

I've started anew.

Nothing to hold me back,

No one to bring me down.

Yet my mind is so dark it's black.

I've started anew.

Why can't I just be happy?

I've done what I need for me.

But still I feel so crappy.

I've started anew,

But I still hate my mind.

All the doubts and 'what ifs'

That keep my heart in a bind.

I've started anew.

I've found my soulmate.

Or maybe I just think I have?

What happens when we depreciate?

I've started anew,

And I'm scared of all that could go wrong.

Perhaps I can work through this.

I just need to find the right song.

3Am MeNtAl BrEaK-dOwN

 

you know you have no right to feel this way, right?

what do you mean?

you're jealous. of her?

no. I'm mad at her. she's hurting people I care deeply for.

no. you're jealous that she's taking time away from you.

I mean, in a way, yes. but it's more of the way she's doing it. being conceited and only thinking about herself and her own happiness.

yeah. but she was here first. don't you think they would have confronted the problem by now? they are adults, right?

shut the fuck up. you don't understand. they care about her. they care so much they are willing to put her ahead of their own needs.

you were like that, you know. hell, that's how you lived for nearly 26 years. Then you went and tried to kill yourself. tried. you failed at that like you do everything else. you try to help, but all you do is make a bigger mess. you're not doing anyone any favors, you know.

I feel like I'm making some kind of difference...

well, why don't you confront her?

I have. multiple times. she won't listen to me.

so why don't you give her what she wants? it's the only reason she wanted you here in the first place. give it to her. make some peace.

that's not how this is suppose to work. if I give in, then she'll just keep up the same behavior, except I'll be personally wrapped up in it. I don't love her. I don't even like her right now. she has potential, if she could just care about anyone else..

fine. then just let it go. stop getting so fucking emotional over something that doesn't involve you.

don't you think I've tried?? I had a great time and talk with him tonight. the night was ending on a good note. but we can't be together, alone, for extended periods of time. it's not allowed. or at least she makes it seem that way. I was angry. I tried journaling. I went for a drive in the middle of the night for almost an hour; just going in circles. it helped, but I'm still so angry.

I don't get it. why care so much? why are you doing this to yourself? didn't you decide to be here to be happy? didn't you end a two year relationship for this?

don't fucking remind me! I hate myself for how much pain he was in. but the bad outweighed the good in that relationship. I was happy when I made the decision. I let my walls down for this family.

NO YOU HAVEN'T! you wouldn't do that for anyone. that one was with you for two years and he barely knew you! you've known these people for a couple months and you think you've let your walls down? well, you're in for a surprise. there are still things you don't remember, but let me help you with that. here's just a little something to remind you that you'll never let your walls down all the way. no one can earn that much trust so fast.

why are you doing this? I care about them. I just want them to be happy. but this empathy crap makes me feel just how much they're hurting. I mean, it's all over their faces too. I don't know how she doesn't fucking see it. everyone is miserable. including her. but she won't even try to change. she won't listen. it's like she thinks they're just trying to trick her or something.... why would you make me remember that?? fucking hell.... I care about them. and because I care, I want to protect them. I do this because I just want to help them. all of them. but I can't seem to get it right.

of course not. you suck at this. you've only ever torn people apart. your own families. the ones forced upon you, the ones you chose, and even the one you made. your son will never love you fully, you know. he'll be guarded. you abandoned him just like you complain about being abandoned. so you know how it feels, but you fucking did it anyway. didn't you?!

yes.

there we go. some acceptance will go a long way. so just let it go. let this go. they'll be getting rid of you soon too, I'm sure. you've been slacking on your chores. you're only ever really wanted around for one thing - to be used. just like that memory... you're nothing but a dirty ragdoll. 

not true! they're not like that. they appreciate and respect me! they care!

oh? do they, really?

I mean, I think so. 

what are you doing to yourself. you are just a tortured soul who tortures others without even trying.

...I know... but I want to help...

but you can't. you've never helped anyone. not in the long run. why don't you do everyone a favor, huh? what was it your niece said to you? "why don't you kill yourself the right way?"

no! just fucking stop! I'm not going back to that place. I am happy here. I am. it's just a bit complicated right now. things always find a way of working out. always.

never have before. things just seem good for a little bit, then go right back to sucking to the point where you start having fucked up conversations with yourself. you know theres a way for you to get through all this without suicide or harm. just flip the switch. don't let yourself feel anything. it'll all be better. and you won't be so angry when it happens again.

I can't. I hate when I can't feel. 

so you'd rather feel everyone's pain than nothing?

yes. if I can't feel pain, how can I feel happy.

when do you ever feel happy??

when they're happy. when I'm around him. the way he looks at me. the way he seems to already understand what's on my mind. hanging out with his other half. we share so many laughs over absolute nonsense. I can just be myself around them. and I'm not myself when the switch is flipped. I'm just a hollow shell. I won't do that.

fine. obviously I'm getting nowhere. but I'll be back for next time.

A fReSh StArT

 

It's a new start. A new life. I chose it for me. For the first time in my life I chose me over anyone else or the fear of how they'll see me. I'll admit it was a rough landing getting here. But more often than not, we need to go through the bad to get to the good. I can't believe I found this place. A stroke of luck, I suppose. 

Unfortunately, the engagement is off... I love him, but my sanity was slipping. I need me to be happy. I kept thinking that I'll be throwing the past two years out the window. But the past two years helped me to grow. I don't regret a single moment. He was amazing and caring and funny and generous. Any woman would be lucky to have him, honestly. But I found something here. Something I never thought I'd find. Actually... A place I never thought even existed. I don't regret my decision to end things with him. I do feel for him. I hate the pain I brought him. I know that to him and everyone who knew us, it is unexpected. But it's been bothering me for a while. I just thought my depression was rough and I had to just deal with it and settle for the rest of my life. But I was shown a new way to live and feel.

This is all new for me. Being able to be me around the clock. Having a routine that doesn't involve trying to help someone overcome mental setbacks. Focusing on my mental health and my happiness. I've never gone multiple days in a row without thinking about self harm or suicide. I always had a plan. I always observed my surroundings and saw all the ways out that moment provided. But since coming here, I've been so content that I haven't had those thoughts. Maybe it won't be a good fit. Maybe it's too good to be true. But I would regret not trusting myself enough to give it a try. It is my happiness after all, right?

So I'm here. I'm in a new family. A new house. A new home. A new state. My whole life left behind 1000 miles away. I feel no regret. I feel no pain. I feel content and ready to take on this new chapter. I hope its a long one.

sOuL sIsTeRs

When you've known someone for many years you begin to see the bigger picture. They were meant to be in your life. No obstacle is too big. Not even adoption.

After meeting her biological family, Sarah learned just how small the world is. Sarah's oldest sister's childhood friend (and still best friend) was her best friend (Hope)'s baby sitter growing up. So even if Sarah had stayed with her birth family, she would have found Hope. 

Sarah had to move out of state for a little over a year. Still, she got back and Hope was there to greet her. Distance is tough, but not for bonded souls.

Sarah tells Hope of how she loves her and would love to spend the rest of their lives together. Being straight, Hope declined. Deep down, however, Sarah knew an intimate relationship really isn't what she wanted. Sarah already had what she wanted. Her confidante, her best friend, her soul sister.

CiViL wAr?¿

There is way to much conflict and violence in the world. Every day I hear about a shooting, or a stabbing, or something to do with race or essential workers. This place is a mess. I am ashamed to be living in this country. There are so many sides. Some sides overlap, but no matter where you stand, your words will be twisted as hate. 

If I say Black Lives Matter, I am...

• racist
• phony
• a target

If I say All Lives Matter, I am...

• racist
• ignorant
• a target

I say I support our men and women in blue, I am...

• ignorant
• a target

I say stop with all the signs and riots. We all want the same thing, right? Peace.

I know. Cheesy, stupid bullshit.

But no. Everyone just wants to live and feel safe in their own skin. Teach or imprison the extremists. Let the violence lessen. Then talk. Damnit, why can't people just talk. 

I know I am very ignorant to all the politics at play. I can admit that. I fear I can't really learn what's happening because every news source is bias. If the news source isn't bias, then it's getting it's information from a bias source. 

There seems to be no way of defending both sides. Terrible, irreversible things happened to many people. I say that it should be resolved between those immediate people. I know it's hard to not defend your neighbor, but that's not what I'm saying. Support does not involve violence. Violence solves NOTHING. It causes damage to more families.

I fear voicing my opinion. I fear that everyone will hear the parts they want to hear, then twist the rest. So I try to remain isolated with my tightly woven group of friends and family. I have no extremists in my group. We support life. We do not want this civil war. We want peace. We want to move forward, but with everyone in the country continuing to look back, we unfortunately are overpowered and remain stagnant.

Can you in good conscious pick a side or do you remain with us?

eGgShElLs

ever heard of walking on egg shells? if not i have far too much experience with it. having to think and rethink before making a move, before saying a word. worried that they will kick you out or call social services. already paranoid that you may in fact be a bad mother or wife or daughter. maybe you're just a bad person in general and thats why this happens. and you're not walking on egg shells, you're playing it safe.
when walking on eggshells be careful. you could still potentially hurt yourself or someone else. if all else fails confront them. tell that egg head why you are doing what you're doing. tell them you're not comfortable with them and figure out how it can be fixed. if they are drunk or unreasonable, take a deep breath and keep pushing forward. there's no getting through to them. hang on to your pride and do what you know is right. no point trying to prove yourself to someone who doesn't actually care.

ReLeAsE

the release of unkind words. the release of horrible events. the release of pain. so easily achieved with the swipe of a blade. feeling all the bad pour out of the perforation. watching it glisten as it slowly finds its way down your body. unwilling to accept the clotting process. so again the blade finds its way to the same release point. again and again it pierces the skin. when you feel that you are finished trying to distract yourself from the hell-hole that is your life, the feeling of peace has taken over with the effect of light-headed euphoria. you continue staring at the elegant beauty of liquefied life. mesmerized as you watch a little of your life slip away. not sure whether to be scared or happy, you settle for content. knowing that you found your distraction. knowing that maybe now you can look at life with a calmer head space. just for good luck, you let the blade slide across one more time... 

mY nEw BeSt FrIeNd

He accepts me for who i am

He is wonderful and kind

He thinks that i am beautiful

Even though he's color blind

I will never be able to find another like him

i will love him and care for him like he does for me

None compare, none ever will

Just wait and see.

nO wOrTh

everyday she gives her all. she helps who she can. she even saves a few from others or even themselves. she walks through everyday with a smile on her face and her chin held high. but thats only because she has to hide the demon that tries breaking free every second. the demon that whispers to jump in front of traffic, to jump off the bridge, to take a shortcut through a dark alley. she doesn't have anyone she trusts to turn to. no one to talk to. no one believes her hell. no one understands her struggle. they say they try, but if they can't succeed after some time, they give up and they walk away. all of them. family and friends alike. and yet she keeps walking forward. keeping up the facade.
people try to make deals to earn her trust. she declines. it's not that simple. yes, trust is earned, but it's not earned over some bullshit bargain. it is earned over time through actions and words. at this point it could take ten years before someone could have her full trust if they started trying with all their heart, right now.
all she wants right now is to be held. but no one is there. no one to hold her. no one to tell her everything will be ok. no one to caress her, to comfort her. its all she wants. she just wants to be wanted. but she has such a clouded vision that she sees herself as not worth it. not worth anyone's time, effort, sympathy, love.. just not worth it.

LoSs Of A fRiEnD

"i want to see her." she told her mother.
"no, honey. she looks really bad. she's really sick and needs to rest" her mother replied.
"but i miss her. she's been sick for so long. when will she be better?" her mother looked at her. sorrow in her eyes.
instead of answering her, her mother said, "what do you want for dinner, sarah?"
"i want to visit emily."
"how about we order some KFC?"
"really? yeah! i love their chicken!"
her mother smiled and continued cleaning the kitchen. sarah went off to her room to work on her home work. the next day, when she got home from school she saw her mom and dad sitting in the living room crying.
"whats wrong?" she asked them. they looked up and reached out to sarah, pulling her into a hug.
"it's emily..." her dad started. it was easy to tell that he didn't know what to tell her. he didn't know how to put it into words.
"she passed away this morning. she's up with the angels now." her mom finished for him.
sarah looked at them in disbelief. looking for any sign that they were joking. any sign that there was a hidden meaning that maybe she was at the house hiding. but nothing. they continued to cry. sarah stepped back, shaking her head back and forth. tears started flowing and she ran to her room and cried for hours. a couple days later was the wake.
"honey, get dressed into something nice."
"why?" sarah responded with no hint of emotion.
"we're going to the wake."
"what's a wake?" sarah asked, confused.
"its a place where friends and family can say their last goodbyes."
sarah nodded then looked for something to wear. she had no black clothes so she settled for dark blue. when they arrived at the wake, there were many people there. some she recognized, others she had no idea who they were. she went up and saw emily lying in the open casket. she looked like a familiar stranger that was sleeping. only, she wasn't moving at all. and she looked pale with too much makeup on. and the dress was insulting. emily never would have worn that. she couldn't think of anything to pray so she moved on to give emily's husband a hug. then went and sat down. as soon as she was seated, she cried. she cried more than she had the day she heard the news. she cried until her body wouldn't allow her to any longer. finally they left and went home. a couple days later was the funeral. her mom told her to stay home. she wasn't allowed to go. so she went to her room and cried a little more.
eight years later, she is living an apartment with her friends. she gets dressed in black. and heads over to the cemetery. unsure of what to do or thing or pray. hoping one day the pain will lessen. one day, she can believe that her dear friend, emily, left this earth for a reason...