Lock Box

A few months ago, I bought a lock box to use on days I’m feeling especially defeated. You set it for a certain amount of time, and the box will not open until that time has passed. There are no loopholes or ways around this: trust me, I have tried. When the urges are screaming in my head and drowning out all logic, I lock away my medicines, razor blades and anything else I might use to hurt myself.

Doing this takes an indescribable amount of self-control, especially in those moments when all hope seems lost.

I don’t know whether to be ashamed or proud of myself.

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Suicide

Suicide has always been a part of my life, long before I fully understood its magnitude or permanency.

Looming over my head, lurking in the walking-on-eggshell good days and overpowering all else on days bad, until it slowly seeped into every pore of my being.

Suicide taught me to drive at age 13, up and down dark roads at night searching for my mother. Peering down over bridges, terrified at the thought of finding her yet somehow more afraid I wouldn’t.

Mourning my father, trembling in his jacket as I inhaled the familiar mixture of leather and cigarette smoke. My heart leapt when he came home a few days later, my absolute elation masking my blood-stained bewilderment. Holding him as tight as I could until its next attack.

Suicide taught me the true meaning of fear.

Uncertainty. A chill down your spine.

A threat keeping me in line. A sense of impending doom.

Abandonment. Turmoil. Anger. Despair.

Is it any wonder tops of tall buildings mock me on my way to class and rusty dissection tools call my name?

Whether it resides beneath my skin, whispering in my ear or walks one step behind me, biting at my heels varies day-to-day…

But it’s always there. Waiting. Watching.

I long to be free of its grasp.  I envy those with a will to live.

And yet…
It’s comforting in its familiarity.

Like a childhood blanket, fraying at the edges, suicide wrapped me in its embrace through every dark night of my childhood– a twisted element of consistency through the chaos.

Without suicide, how could I face the past? The present? The future?

What would be left of me?

 

Ramblings of A Prisoner of Flesh

Screen Shot 2017-12-11 at 4.18.51 PMChronic illness is the forced embodiment of an unsolicited reality

It is detecting the ever-changing direction of the wind,

Nimble focus to which way it screams the loudest

A constant game of tug-of-war

Paralyzed by pain- aching, burning, stabbing

Awake in constant slumber, a fog unyielding

Racing thoughts get lost on the way to the tongue

A prisoner of failing flesh

Always too much, too little

Never just enough…

Once aiming for superlatives, now grounded in indistinction

Unclenching hyper-vigilance and embracing helpless dependency

“Sustainable”, instead of “healthy”, as the label of betterment

Trading existing for thriving

Surviving for living

Understanding for tolerance, and then only sometimes

Living in everyone’s expectation that if they try; at access, at

niceness, then that trying, for us, should be enough

Slivers of doubt become trusted tools

Can I do this? Will they be there? What will be left of me?

Be prepared for anything.

Be prepared for anything…

It’s Only Been 3 Days…

I am honestly terrified for this semester.  In so many ways, this is my last chance to turn things around.  But I am so, so very worn– physically, mentally & emotionally.  Simply getting out of bed or responding to text messages seems too hard some days, nevermind successfully functioning as a student.  I know that worrying fixes nothing, and I’m trying not to get too ahead of myself: it’s only been three days.  But before the semester even began, I felt like I was drowning.  I’m working my very hardest and trying to keep my head up, but I really don’t think I can do this…

Rest In Peace

As the morning light peeks through the window and you stir into consciousness, sometimes for a fleeting second, you forget.

But you are jerked back into reality as your heart begins to pound– head spinning, choking back acid, muscles aching, nerves burning.

Most days, you lie there for a while, trying to breathe through the pain and gather enough strength to go on about your morning routine.

But a big part of you wonders why you bother to get up at all.

You drag yourself from bed to fight the same battles each day. No end in sight, simply running on a treadmill uphill, hoping to maintain an unfortunate baseline.

It all just becomes so, so very tiresome.

Your physical health continues to deteriorate as your spirit is crushed under the weight of a crumbling sense of self.

You know there are people you would let down if you were to leave. There are those who would suffer if you were to suddenly cease to exist.

So you press on, trying to ignore the fact that you’re trapped– fake smile, one foot in front of the other.

As time passes, your increasing inability to keep up with the world pulls you deeper and deeper into the pit of isolation.

People grow up, get married, move away, retire, or simply forget your existence completely.

You watch as everyone you love fades away.

As night falls and you are left alone with your thoughts, your chest aches with the thought of how alone you have become.

You feel the sting of being unwanted, unneeded, outgrown, forgotten, abandoned.

But as the night turns to dawn, you realize there is no one left to let down. Or at least, there is no one who would have life ripped out from under them if you were to no longer be.

Your body is broken– your very being exhausted and worn– but you close your eyes and let out a sigh of relief.

Tears gilde down your cheeks and a smile slowly creeps across your face as you realize you may finally rest in peace.

 

[Just some musings from a brain and body currently consumed by painsomnia. No worries– I’m not going anywhere anytime soon. Keep fighting, guys.. ❤ ]

Nobody Wins When Everyone’s Losing

You know those songs that just capture your attention, reach into the depths of your soul & hit you at your core?  Yes, that was a very dramatic introduction– I’m aware. 😉 But this particular song, “Not Meant To Be” by Theory Of A Deadman is definitely one of those songs for Keri, Bre & I. When everything was in a chaotic spiral & we would find ourselves so far in Borderland we didn’t know that we’d ever again see the light, there wasn’t much that could help us (or, anyone caught in the path of the storm). But this song– one step forward, two steps back– every single word is/was SO relatable & relevant to our situation. And I’m not sure if it’s that it empowered us or simply validated our feelings, but somehow, singing it always made it easier to breathe.

It’s never enough to say I’m sorry
It’s never enough to say I care
But I’m caught between what you wanted from me
And knowing that if I give that to you
I might just disappear

Nobody wins when everyone’s losing…

[Chorus:]
It’s like one step forward and two steps back
No matter what I do, you’re always mad
And I, I can’t change your mind
I know it’s like trying to turn around on a one-way street
I can’t give you what you want
And it’s killing me
And I, I’m starting to see
Maybe we’re not meant to be

It’s never enough to say I love you
No, it’s never enough to say I try
It’s hard to believe
That’s theres no way out for you and me
And it seems to be the story of our lives

Nobody wins when everyone’s losing…

[Chorus]

There’s still time to turn this around
You could be building this up instead of tearing it down
But I keep thinking
Maybe it’s too late

[Chorus]

It’s like one step forward and two steps back
No matter what I do, you’re always mad
And I, baby I’m sorry to see
Maybe we’re not meant to be…