Depression

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These past couple of weeks has been like a roller coaster ride; like a dodgeball fight and I am the target, or a football match and I’m the single player versus a whole team of negative bitches.

When I wake up and think, “This is not good.” I know is the beginning of a bad day, but I have to wake up.

I am a mother.

I am a wife.

I have to camouflage my insanity with the face of a person who is sane, but that fort can hold for so long. When my facade breaks. I break. The world is against me and I cannot let my shield down, so I fight. I fight back by shutting everyone out…almost everyone.

Like I said,

I am a mother.

So, to my kids I put on my happy mask and hide my truth away. Innocence cannot be devoured by what dwells within me.

I can put on a smile.

I can laugh.

I can be happy when I am with them.

When I am alone, my darkness creeps in.

My thoughts constantly transfer me to a dimension where my existenve is futile and I am free.

STOP! I yell.

Stop that.

Stop the thoughts.

Stop trying to block my path.

Stop it.

Thus, I continue my day in a ongoing battlefield and by the end of the day, I am exhausted.

All that is left is destruction.

All that is left are open wounds.

All the is left is the everlasting fires of my disaster.

All that is left is the missing pieces of myself

Scattered somewhere out in the field; begging to be found.

I welcome the moon to put me at ease, but my enemies wash away my sleep.

My war continues into the night.

An endless battle.

An endless fight.

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To My Anxiety

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I am panicking

I am barely breathing

My vision is blurry

My memory is hazy

You knocked on my door

And I allowed you in

My body is trembling

I am pacing back and forth

I am barely breathing

I have to keep myself together

I cannot stay like this forever

Breathe

I step back and close my eyes

I bestowed myself into Nothing

Hoping that something will

Help me find my balance.

I am in a trance

Breathe

I hear my breath.

I hear the distant helicopter

I hear the birds singing

I hear the cars passing

I hear the wind howling

Breathe

I open my eyes and exhale

I can do this

Breathe

I cannot let you into my life when you please

I will not longer allow that agonizing tease

Breathe

Not today dear friend

Not today.

Mockingbird

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That is a mockingbird

Who wants you to sing along

To it’s song.

A song that is carried by the wind

Makes you feel like you’re on a swing

High and might

Powerful and light

Light as a feather

That is a mockingbird

Who has not been tethered

It is free

It’s telling you

Look at me.

A Bad Day (Trigger Warning)

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The last time I had a breakdown was about a year ago when I was working as a cashier. I’ve worked as a cashier before, but working at a location where it was primarily male dominated made things a bit different. During this time, I was also attending a Trauma Support Group.

I reported to work like any other day, but I wasn’t prepared for the man with the eyes of a downright pervert; eyes like that is hard to miss, they just stare at you like you are some piece of meat;ready to pounce on you like a lion. I started to scan all his items. I was reaching for the last item and his hand caressed mine, “You’re so delicious. I’m looking for a woman. Interested?” His stare was nauseating. I immediately pulled my hand back and gave him his total. He paid and left. My hand trembled. I grabbed my hand sanitizer and poured a handful and rubbed it.

“It’s dirty… It’s dirty. Wash it off. WASH IT OFF!”

I didn’t realise a customer was waiting until he cleared his throat. I quickly looked up and assisted him, but my hand…it couldn’t stop shaking. After he left I paiged for cover while I ran to the restroom. As soon as I closed the stall door, my tears broke free. My whole body was trembling; I couldn’t stop. I called my husband and I cried. He listened and was able to give me some tranquility. I stayed in the stall for a few more minutes after we hung up. My mind was a haze the rest of the day. I couldn’t function for a while.

I haven’t had a serious breakdown after that incident. The Trauma Group I attended helped me in a way I cannot put into words. I was able to get back on my feet and breathe again. I was finding myself while accepting my symptoms.

Today, was unexpected though.

My sister in law is due in a few weeks, so when I was informed that she was having contractions I rushed to her house since I was going to be her driver. My daughter was in school, so the plan was that my father in law would pick her up and bring her to my sister in law’s house. I was aware of this since we have been planning back and forth for weeks now and I was okay with it, but as soon as the time was nearing for her bus arrival my anxiety escalated.

As I stated in my previous blogs, I was sexually harassed by my grandfather, so it took me a while to become accustomed to my father in law’s presence around me and especially around my daughter.

I kept exchanging glances between the clock and the door, memories of my grandfather and uncles abuse roamed my head like hungry beasts. I was uneasy.

You should have picked her up?

What kind of mother are you?

Why did you let you guard down?

I wanted her by my side. I was anxious. 3:51 p.m. and I heard the bell ring. I could see her beautiful face peeking from the side window. I quickly walked to the door and picked her up and sat on the couch with her. I looked at her and she smiled at me. “Are you okay sweetie?” I asked her, not letting her go.
“Yes mami!” She let herself loose and went to play with her cousins. I was still uneasy. I kept asking her if she was okay and she gave me the same response. We went outside to play and I whispered, “Did your grandfather touch you anywhere?” The innocence behind her confused look broke me into pieces. I smiled at her and told her to go and play. I couldn’t enjoy the beautiful, sunny day or the pure happy state that my children were in.

What is wrong with you?

My thoughts were running free and I stood there and watched them tear me apart with its darkness. I couldn’t handle being there anymore. I wanted to take my kids and leave that house, so I did. As soon as I got into the car, I started to feel some ease.

“I got away.”

When we arrived home, my daughter and I bathed together and I asked her one last time, “Did grandpa touch you?” I waited. “No mami. We were singing songs and that’s it.” I smiled and kissed the top of her head, “Okay mama.”

Now, I am here. In this space. In this room. On this bed and my thoughts are still running free. I feel powerless. I feel useless. I feel disappointed in myself. The list of negative thoughts is a perpetual zone and I am stuck in it.

Today was a bad day.

A Friend

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You push me away

You hide away

You desolate yourself

And become your own cage

While your insides scream

You throw away your freedom

I wonder…do you know we are here?

You create a show

And you are leading the stage

With your silent misery

I wonder…do you know we are here?

Our love is eternal

Our love is unconditional

Our love travels distance

Our love sings and dances

I wonder…do you know we are here?

You distract yourself in darkness

and choose solitude as a best friend

Have you not realised your friend is

a malicious fiend.

I wonder…do you know we are here?

Three musketeers we call ourselves

Yet, your bad days take you for themselves

Three musketeers we call ourselves

Yet, you seem so distant

It’s like your existence will vanish in an instant.

I wonder…do you know we are here?

I wish to tell you

YES, we are here.

We are here when you are breaking

When you are dying

When you are crying

We are here.

I will always say I love you until the end of time

Because no amount of time will break this bond

So, stay strong

Move on

Close your eyes and feel that darkness fade

It will grasp with all its might

But you have the power to decide whether it stays.

Never give up the fight to bloom into a better you.

We love you.

Self Harm (Trigger Warning)

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“Do you want to try it?” she asked

We were hiding in a hallway that linked two doorways; one led outside and the other led to the main hallway of our school.

I could not detach myself from the razor that she had in her hand. They were all creating a small incision on their wrist. I was curious. I grabbed the razor and created a cut on my left wrist. I felt a small sting, but it felt so good.

This wasn’t the first time I used pain as an escape. I would constantly pinch my body or burn myself in certain parts to just make certain emotions go away. The pain that rushed through my body was exhilarating. It took me to a place where I could only feel pain and nothing else, so when I made that cut on my wrist, my addiction commenced.

Every time I felt like I was emotionally collapsing from my insomnia nights, flashbacks, or life in general, I would close myself in my bathroom and break a shaving razor using the blade to lightly slice my wrist. After I was finished ,I threw the evidence away and became friendly with long sleeve shirts and sweaters.

One particular evening stands out though.

I was about 13 years old and I remember having a bad day. My bad days before were worse than today. Memories of my past would come back to me and drop me to my knees.

Luckily, I was alone in my room when a sudden flash back made me tremble. I can’t remember what the memory was, I can only remember what it did to me. I couldn’t breathe. My sight was blurry. I was shaking and sweating. I screamed a silent screamed and rushed to the bathroom. I looked for a shaving razor, but couldn’t find one. I saw a loose razor blade and picked it up. I slashed my wrist without stopping until my wrist was covered in a blanket of crimson red. My tears were like rain showers washing away dirt from the street. I fell on my knees and cried. I cried until my throat was dry. I cried until my eyes were red and swollen. I cried until my stomach ached. I cried until I had nothing else left. I was in there for a long time and no one suspected anything, just how I liked it.

It wasn’t until late that night that my addiction was discovered by my mother. She saw the blood from my sleeve and pulled it up. Tears fled from her and she asked Why?

I said, “Because of him…dad.” I wanted her to know the truth, but her ignorance overcame.

“I know you miss him. He will be with us soon. Don’t cry. Don’t do this anymore.” She caressed my hair.

I stared blankly and didn’t know what to think. No matter what, my truth was meant to stay buried.

“I just miss him.” I responded in a monotone voice.

I lied through my teeth. I lied.

Once again, my truth dwelled in the dark.

My addiction continued and

My wrist became a museum of my bad days.

Sweet Silence

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Wild flowers

Moonlight

Rain showers

Sun light

Darkness creep

Path is steep

Mouth closed

Hands fold

Across my chest

Safe and secure

Stay away from the lure

To open my mouth

SPEAK my truth

TELL my truth

SCREAM my truth.

Heart aches

Pain is furtive like a snake.

Sweet silence devour me.

I will no longer try to plead

Let me sleep

Close my eyes and let me dream

Sweet, sweet dreams of sunlight

Rain showers and moonlight while

Sorrounded by all sorts of wild flowers

Innocence of dreams

I am not worthy

I am damaged

I will shut this out.

I will keep my secret locked

It will not flee.

Just let me be me.

Let me dwell in this inchoate form

Sorrounded by the sound of the storm.

I am safe here.