R: “It’s gonna be ok.”

I don’t usually click the “create new post” button on here and write what’s on my mind, I have done so occasionally, but it is much more common for me to flip thru the pages of one of my journals and pick a poem or other short written piece that I know I haven’t published yet and throw it up on here. But once in a while I need the feeling of my thumb flying across the screen of my smart phone, trying to tell as much as I can of whatever story literally just happened to me. Tonight there is one of those stories, but the words are getting stuck somewhere, maybe in my biceps, and aren’t making it to my thumbs. In the past 3 hours I’ve cried 4 times. I felt like a burden on the people who were being so generous and giving me a ride, I felt like a nuisance as I stated my opinion and my experience while surrounded by a group of women who are more mature than me both in physical years and in faith, I had an outburst when the topic of discussion hit close to home, I wanted to tell a story but there wasn’t time, and by defending my crazy I only made myself appear more crazy. I’m sure whatever I said tonight was incoherent and I can’t explain it away. And yesterday in an effort to just enjoy a conversation with a friend, I gave her all sorts of details that it seems she is collecting in order to pass judgement on my life choices and recommend all sorts of ways to fix my life. Well, the truth is lady, i just wanted to have another adult to talk to, I didn’t need for you to tell me that I need to be on meds for my mental illness and for you to claim youve seen my behavioral extremes, when really you’ve only ever seen me depressed, some days I just don’t let the depression crush my whole day and I am able to laugh and I don’t lock myself inside my house for weeks at a time, just because I put on clean clothes and earrings does not mean my depression is gone and just because I talk about something I am excited about does not mean I am having a manic episode. But this post is just more incoherent crazy person babble, reinforcing that I am in fact having some sort of episode related to my mental illness. Eff it, Im too tired to fix me right now, tomorrow has a chance and so do i.

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Reflecting on My Metaphor

i am a typewriter and someone else is pressing the keys

i am a match that won’t light

i am yarn, frayed and unraveling

i am glue that never dries

i am words written backwards

i am a stone that can’t skip

i am lukewarm coffee

i am a pen out of ink

i am an empty spool of thread

i am a threadbare sweater

i am a left sock without a right

i am a flower, always wilting

i am written in an unspoken language

i am all consonants and no vowels

i am a broken vase, not yet mended with gold

i am a butterfly with broken wings

i am an owl without voice

i am loaded scales with no counter weights

Dialogues

Self: Brain, why are you broken?

Brain: i was born this way.

Self: could you have been helped long ago?

Brain: perhaps, but no one believed there was anything wrong with me.

Self: i did.

Brain: but even you doubted.

Self: what can i do now?

Brain: the only way is to work against me. fight me.

Self: why can’t you just let me win?

Brain: that’s not how i work.

A Story In the Air (102018)

i saw him on a Thursday

found out his story was tragic on Friday

knew why on Saturday

his birthday was Tuesday

i didn’t know then

he was beautiful

 

beautiful boy, what are you running from?

i don’t think he even knows the answer to that question

post-traumatic stress

and the things he can’t forget

 

i am so sorry

but i am sure they all miss you terribly

i, too, am mentally ill

and i know they’d miss me still

 

i’m four days older than you

but some things are more the same

we have two sons

we couldn’t make it work

running away doesn’t sound so bad

sometimes things don’t make sense

 

and i’m desperately trying

to handle your story with care

i am a story-catcher and

a storyteller

 

beautiful boy, you are not alone

beautiful boy, i wish i could see

you smile

 

please go home

they’re waiting for you

California will always remember you

but Ohio’s heart breaks

beautiful boy, go

light-hearted, heavy-headed

I am ninety eight percent happy
ninety five percent of the time
I have rough weeks,
sad days, bad moments
sometimes I can’t breathe
occasionally the sinking feeling in my stomach
is so heavy
eating or drinking anything
becomes impossible

But mostly I am happy
I am alive
I am high (on life, of course)
I am in love
I am loved
and I love
I know God
I know, God

Tolkien Wisdom (Everyday Inspiration, Day 15)

“Faithless is he that says farewell when the road darkens.”

— J.R.R. Tolkien, The Fellowship of the Ring

This quote hits me hard. I read The Fellowship of the Ring last year and this quote didn’t stick out to me enough that I remembered it, but now the quote makes me think of R, but then if I go deeper I think of myself, and I see that I said farewell long before he did. But I did it in an awful way, I left my body behind as a reminder to R of what he lost and he tried desperately to revive my heart. When someone wants to be dead, whether figuratively or literally, it takes something like a miracle to bring them back to life, and even then it’s an improbable outcome. When I dig deep and go all way down to the core of my being, I see that I am the only one that left, R fought up to the last and even after he let me go he continued to fight for my happiness and still to this day he puts me fairly high on his priority list. There is another Tolkien quote that I absolutely love:

“He that breaks a thing to find out what it is has left the path of wisdom.”

-Gandalf the Grey

Not sure which book this is even from, I didn’t write it next to the quote in my journal. But this quote makes me think of myself and what I did to R and our relationship, which is the sad side of it. On the brighter side of it, it is a reminder to never do the awful parts again.

Letter (Everyday Inspiration, Day 8)

Dear Depression,

For a second I wanted to start this letter with “I effing hate you!” But that wouldn’t be the truth. The truth is that I would not be who I am today without you and I am very happy in my skin. Wishing you away would be like disowning myself. I think I’ve said that I wish I didn’t struggle with you, but my opinion on you today is this: you have shaped me into a beautiful, creative, strong, young mother. And for that I thank you. Getting to this point has been a mixture of agony and bliss, with everything in between too. I first met you when I was fourteen, that’s when I first admitted you had a name, we may have been acquainted before then, but I don’t remember. That jerk brother of yours, Anxiety, he started stalking me when I was only 7 years old, who does that? But anyways, this is about you, not him. Depression, I did some crazy things in your name. Shortly after we got on this first name basis, I carved a mark into the flesh of my right knee with a broken piece of plastic I found in the dirt while sitting on the edge of my back porch. I said it was your fault. All your fault. I spent nearly 10 whole years carving up my skin and pointing a finger at you, claiming innocence. It’s not my fault, that’s what I used to tell myself. And suddenly, I’m at a loss for words. I thought I had a million things to say to you, but none of them will materialize at the moment. I guess just like any first letter to someone when you want to put distance between you and them, it’s normal to stumble for words. In ways I still blame you, but I’m trying not to. If I blame you, then I have to blame whoever introduced us and that just goes on down back towards the beginning of time. If you’re to blame, then the list would only grow and I’m sure I could find a way to blame everyone. So the simplest answer is that no one is to blame. Blame should not exist, let’s do away with it. This isn’t goodbye, this is to be continued. I’ll write again.

-B

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i was lost there once
begging to not exist
stayed there for months
looking for an exit

honestly, it was more than once
that i lived there
more than months
more like ten years

i hate that my adolescence
was wasted wanting to die
back then i had no sense
that’s when i started to lie

now when the dark
tries to swallow me
i look at every mark
and my heart won’t allow me

*In response to Darkness.

a volvo, your arms, my heart, your heart

maybe we’re always the same
as we’ve ever been
we never change
who we are inside

that girl you love
loved
should this be past tense?
because she’s always present

that girl you love
she’s still here
but she was afraid
of the dark

today
she kicks the dark’s ass
she tells despair to leave
but she’ll sit with sad

sad and her
will share a cup of caffeine
because he has lessons
she can learn

he leaves eventually
but only after he’s been embraced
and allowed to voice his opinion
loudly at first but softer later

sad does not dim her light
but he teaches her to shine
brighter than a new match
growing into an un-tamable flame

she becomes what she fears
no
not in every way
just in some

a slight change of form
change of pace
the directions we go
always lead us home

*In response to Shadow.