She can see the sadness of her new face,
It’s as visible as a tear on newly embroidered lace,
No matter how much she laughs and smiles,
The lady’s face still shows the bitter trials.
Her grief is standing by her side,
Some days she can take it in her stride,
To harness it within her own art,
Before it returns to rip her apart.
I feel like I’ve just been waiting for everything, I wait to get pregnant, I wait to get better, and I just wait for my life to begin. Why do I wait? I think it’s because I’m scared to take the leap, I have many times after breakdowns, but it always ends up the same way. I jump in and end up worse off but how am I going to get better unless I take the steps?
It’s daunting that I am so scared to start living again, so scared to move forward, what if I have a breakdown again? But what if I don’t? Am I scared to go there because I could have a breakdown or am I scared of progress? I think the real answer is I am scared of everything when my life doesn’t go how I picture I seem to freeze.
Today is Time to Talk Day which encourages everyone to talk about Mental Health or whatever is on there mind, this gets awareness out there as well as being great for acceptance on this issue. I thought I would dedicate today to those thoughts I have that hold me back from speaking my mind and try to understand them a little better.
No one will believe you
It’s safe to say that this is not a hard one to figure out, I have had a lot of people in my life not believe me, my fear of missing out turned into my parents accusing me of taking drugs, my breakdown led to drinking heavily as a cry for help but my parents wouldn’t believe the worst things my abusive ex did to me.Read More »
Last night I went to write about the effects of seasonal affective disorder and this short story just flew right out of me. I’m not usually one to share this type of post or even writing short stories in the first place but I thought I would post this anyway as it seemed important to write about this from another perspective.
I hope it’s not too terrible.
I’ve been thinking about this concept for the past few days, it may have to do with my rewatch of The Unbreakable Kimmy Schmidt in anticipation of its finale, or the much-anticipated sequel to the film, but are people really unbreakable? What does it say about us (myself included) who feel rather broken, are we to learn from those moments, should we really strive to be unbreakable?
To be honest, I would absolutely love to think of myself as unbreakable, the woman who refused to break after abuse, rape, recurrent miscarriage, and poor mental health. But I’m really not, I’ve struggled to remake my broken shell on a number of occasions, and although seeing myself as being unbreakable appeals to me very much, it also takes away from my struggle.
This year has brought a lot of low points, like some really terrible moments where I’ve felt as if my heart has been ripped out of my chest terrible, but I thought I would instead today focus on the positive moments I had throughout last year to show, mostly to myself, that 2018 wasn’t really that bad.
Opening up
I had started seeing my therapist in December 2017, but it was only a small trial session we had, but in 2018 we really truly started the work on my mental health. We don’t talk diagnosis, but instead, I can just go into her little comfy room and talk about whatever has bothered me. For the first few months, the sessions were dedicated to my abuser, but I would deflect a lot.
I see a white blur past me in the distance,
It talks about time with a matter of persistence,
Without an ounce of any self-control,
I follow the blur straight down the rabbit hole.
Before I know it I am at the bottom of a large pit,
Which has never seen so much as the moonlit,
Its darkness seems to come from magic,
Following the poor soul whose life is nothing but tragic.
