Tuesday, June 7, 2016


I shout to an empty room. My words fall on deaf ears.
No one is listening.
Can you blame them?
When so little laughter is heard and so many tears are shed?
Who is there left to listen?
Who wants to listen?
But I write.
I share.
I cry at the emptiness.

I am uncertain what I need. But I am falling apart.
I cannot point out what is causing this, other than my mind slowly destroying me.
Many say mental illness should be talked about.
But how?
I am uncertain as to why I reach out, only to share that I have once again started journaling.
These entries are windows into my soul.
I don't expect answers.
And hardly do I expect much of anything out of them.
But the words are mine and I want you to know they are there to help you see where I am.

I sit "silently" in my home.
My mind plaguing me with hate, anxiety, uncertainty, and toying with death.
Yes. Death.
I won't hide from it anymore.
I will most likely find myself back in the hospital because of it.
It is almost inevitable, similar to any other chronic illness that flairs up and can't be controlled any other way.

You see me smile. When you see me. There is joy there.
What is missed is what takes place behind closed doors.
The waterfall of tears.
The body aches longing for relief and understanding.
Please read my entries.
Please reach out.
Please be patient with my slow responses.
It's hard to leave the house.
It's hard to let people in.
Everything is more difficult.
I don't know what you see.
I don't know what you think.


This tight anxiety in my chest to which I wake every morning to.
This pain is unyielding and never ending.
I do not know how to make this pain pass.
It is inexplicable to me.
I try to recall all of those that love me.
There are a good many, so I think.
And yet, I am convinced they all deserve better than me.
I am unworthy of their love.

I am safe in my circle.
I am safe surrounded by those who love me.
I do not feel safe.
I feel suicidal.
I should go home.
I have to keep my promises.
Maybe I will leave earlier.
I do not know how to ask for the help I need.

I am blessed. We are blessed.
My meds kicked in. I am calmer now.
I hate my meds.
I guess I need them first thing in the morning just to stave off the morning attacks.
Wake and bake on a new level.
I could fight this.
I could struggle against what I feel I hate so much.
Or I can try to embrace the help around me.
The medications.
The herbs.
The fresh air.
My cats.
My home.
My lovers.
My family.
There is good in this world.
The hard part is pushing out the negative and not letting it engulf me.
I write these words.
"Youth springs eternal."
But there is good still left in this world,
Now only if I could train my mind to focus more on that and less on the negative,
Which I hold no control over.
This worls if ull of ugly and hate.
My moods show such things.
I'm empathic that way.
Learning to separate between what I can and cannot control is the difficult task at hand.
The ups and downs come nd go.
I must remember that.
When I hit rock bottom the only place left to go is up.
Although sometimes its just easier to lay on the bottom and let all the sorrow and saddness seep in.
Is it ok to just let myself linger there for a while?
To really feel those lows.
To explore them, know them, identify them for what they are.

I cannot stop crying.
Everything makes me cry.
I want to curl up and die.
I have little to no motivation right now.
Nothing has worth.
My life has no purpose.
I stay for others, but not for myself.
There is this rude selfishness of others to insist that I stick around.
To stay for them defeats the point of life life for oneself.
I am the one that wakes every morning in emotional agony.
The minutes pass so slowly for me and my reasons to hang on hang by a thread.
I just want to fee and be in control fo that feel.
Self-harm fits this.
Pain is real.
Pain is a reminder that life is real.
I feel so numb at times that pain is the only way to break out of it.
I thought I was ok this morning.
I guess I was wrong.