Conquering the lies

Since last fall, my suicidal thoughts have progressively gotten worse. I started seeing a therapist last November, and I’m sifting through trauma and shame that’s never been addressed. I am fairly certain this is the reason for the increase in frequency and severity of my suicidal thoughts. For some reason, the thoughts were bad the …

Loving and being loved

I’ve been completely MIA for the past week or so. Everything is okay. I honestly haven’t felt like writing, mostly because I’ve been reading some books that a friend recommended. One is called Safe People and the other is called Boundaries. Both books were incredibly enlightening, and I’m sure I will write a post about …

Taking off the mask

I saw the live-action Aladdin last week with two boys I babysit. One of the boys is ten years old and the other one is seven. We had the following conversation on the way home: D (10): Who do you think was the funnier Genie? The cartoon or this one? Me: Well, Robin Williams played …

Hope

Depression is darkness. An absence of all things good. Nothing looks, sounds, or feels right. There is no relief; there is only pain. When someone asks what hurts, the only accurate answer is, “Everything.” It’s impossible to articulate the hole depression leaves in your soul. You do not feel whole or worthy. There is no …

I am a survivor

I have lived through numerous traumatic experiences over the years. As I’ve alluded to before, I’m not ready to share the details of what I’ve been through, but I have an inkling I will disclose some pretty heavy stories sooner rather than later. Suffice it to say, I could consider myself a victim because of …

Enough

I love self-deprecating humor, and as a result, I am really good at giving myself backhanded compliments. Here is a list of my favorites: I’m not ugly. I’m smarter than most 5th graders. I have a respectable memory. I write goodly. I’m talented at pissing people off. When compared to people who don’t know how …

Rest: A poem

The other night I felt like writing, but I couldn’t think of anything to write about. Instead of writing on my computer, I hand wrote a stream-of-consciousness poem that’s pretty morbid. It’s raw, but I want to share it because some of my feelings might be relatable. Sleep, is there no rest? Tired all the …