The Frustration of This Side

Just wanna grab people

Grab them by the collar and shake them.

“Do you know what I’m going through

Do you know what I’m dealing with?

The weight of this and the pain of it all

Every day, alone!

No one cares!

Not even you!”

Even as you shout in their face

They don’t care.

They judge

They look at you with a sidways glance

And walk away.

They aren’t interested in your


They don’t care about the load

The immense mass

You struggle to support

Knees buckling

Every day.

They say things about you,

Being “unfit” or “abusive” or “unstable”.

They don’t want to know the truth.

The truth might make them hurt too.

Easier to stick on a label

A judgment

Like a stamp on an envelope or

Sticker on a package of meat.

“There you go, now that you’re


You’re much easier to digest.

I can ignore what you say because I’ve decided that

You are this thing.

You are not person

You are less.”

You who judge have no idea.

You don’t live my life

You don’t hear my words

You don’t feel my pain

You don’t carry my weight.

Your judgement means nothing.

You have made up a word for something you refuse to understand.


Internal Goodbye


There is that moment
That heavy, dark, heartsinking moment
Where it all becomes clear.
All lines to a finite point
Yes, it has come to this.
That moment held
Locked tight in deep denial
For so long
Looking away from the blaringly obvious
Choosing your own reality instead.
“This won’t break it. Most people would succumb, but not me, I can make it”
The bleak bowling ball of truth hits
Then you see
All at once
It’s over.
That time has passed and gone away.
Those moments
Those people
That comfort
Has left.
All the things promised
Have all fallen away.
Now the roads, closely intertwined
Part ways,
Far from each other.
There is a loss
A moment you are alone.
Look around in sad abandon
And wonder what to do next.
Put down the weight and walk down the road.
There’s nothing else that can be done.

Velvet Metronome



The way the night

Slips and soothes into existence

It gently lulls with the soft sounds of

The chirps and creaks and gentle bellows

Of it’s lovely little creatures.

The crickets keep time to the tune

Of the overheard moon.

Their metronome has been a comfort

Even on the bleakest

Moonless nights.

A wonder how a small black creature

On a dark velvet night

In the still of the avalanche of life

Can slow it all down

Make it all stop

And be the keeper of your heartbeat

When each beat may

Break it, just a little.

He softens the night

Keeps it constant

When all else may falter or change.

No matter how long or dark or lonely my night

I know the metronome keeps it moving

Keeps me breathing

And this all shall pass.

I can sleep.

Excrutiation of Exhausting


Smack! Against the wall

Face down, traumatized

Bleeding from your ears

Ringing loudly, deafening

Throbbing, brains rolling

Around with your eyes bulging

From your cracked skull

Reeling, unnerved all senses shut off

Disconnected, blinded, deafened with the

Loudest deafness

The deafness is deafening

No outward sensations, just inner pain and


Your hands do not grasp

Your eyes do not see

Your legs will not stand

You have forgotten where you are and

Where to go.

You have imploded

Over your own insanity.

What A Pretty Cage


I long to be one of those girls.

One of those tough, gritty girls.

The ones who live outside,

Work in the sun, in the heat and cold

Live with a steely resolve and

Squinted eyes from the sun.

My hair would be long and kept my natural

Almost black.

It would not be styled.

I would have no makeup.

I would get up early and

Work and live.

My hands would be dirty

And I would be strong and healthy.

I could do it all by myself

Keep my sense and wit

And live my days with passion and pride.

At night I would sleep sound

Rested at peace with the production of my day.

I want to be an outside girl.

Breathe the free air and

Dig in God’s dirt.

I will sit in my office

Hair up neat and tidy

Makeup clean and perfect

Dressed up like a doll

With longing glances out my window.

Daydreaming, wrapped up in the formality,

For a life of simplicity.

The Weight of Our Personal Wars


I know there’s going to be a lot of exposure on depression over the next few weeks after such a public and unexpected suicide. I just wanted to have a chance to tell my story.

Most of what I post on this blog is about my battle with depression and anxiety. I suffer from chronic pain, and I can’t lie and tell you it’s easy. I can’t tell you that I don’t have fleeting thoughts of crashing my car because a stay in the hospital would be a welcome break. I can’t tell you that I don’t just about cry with the mere thought of having to get out of bed some mornings. I cry in the shower. I pray a lot. I try not to cry in the car anymore. And unfortunately, this is much better.

I spent years in abusive relationships, being abandoned by alcoholics, becoming an alcoholic. I was on cocaine, I slept with people I worked with, I did whatever I could to escape myself. I stayed high for just about my entire time in high school. I didn’t like being me. I didn’t like who I was. I was vulnerable and I was tired of people hurting me. I was tired of taking care of everyone else and feeling like no one gave a rip about me. I didn’t want to be around people because they just made me feel worse. They didn’t want to listen to my problems, but they sure wanted to tell me all about thiers.

And I did this. I lived in this pit for most of my life. I look back now and I realize I was depressed when I was about 8 and I just stayed there. I tried to hang myself with a belt from my bunk bed when I was 8. I would think about running away. I would think a lot about how to kill myself.

I began drinking when I was 12, and that was also when I started using relationships as a “high”. I would have a new boyfriend every few months. I was always flirting with guys. If they didn’t seem attracted to me, I was viscous and mean to them. I got in fights, I stayed drunk or high, I didn’t care if I lived.

Depression is a heavy weight. It will drag around with you and not even the best friend or most wonderful relationship in the world can get rid of it. It will stay with you until you get professional help.

2 years ago, I couldn’t do it anymore. I didn’t want to get out of bed, I couldn’t sleep, I couldn’t stay awake, and I felt like I was just completely losing my mind. I thought a LOT about hurting myself and I didn’t know how I could go on. I couldn’t live like that anymore, something had to change. I was insanely desperate. I can’t tell you how distraught I was. I was just a total mess. I hated myself, I had put on weight, no one could talk to me. I was a twist of anger, sadness and just thorns of self preservation. I wasn’t ready for medication, but I was ready for therapy. I found someone close to my work, so I wouldn’t have an excuse (I could go on the way home). It was a slow process, it took weeks to see any difference, and it took months before anyone else could really say “you seem like you’re doing better”.

I worked hard in there. I would scream, yell, cry, disassociate, analyze myself with a fine tooth comb, and I took everything my therapist said to heart. I really liked her, she made sure I had a safe place to become whole again. It took a year of going every week before I really felt “together”. A solid year of transformation.

Depression is a serious disorder.  I never wanted to tell anyone about going to therapy because I didn’t want them to think I was crazy, or say the irritating and completely ignorant “what do you have to be depressed about”. I can’t tell you how much it pisses me off when people say that.

I don’t go to therapy anymore, but I’ve learned a lot about depression and how to deal with it. I have learned it’s a lifelong thing, just like addiction. You have to be very self aware, use the tools you were given in therapy and work at it. For the rest of your life. I find ways to deal with it, and I don’t give in to the things I want to do when it comes over me. I don’t isolate myself, I don’t shut down and I don’t keep it all inside. That just helps it all stew and become darker and heavier.

Just like any serious illness, it takes real professional help to fight this. And don’t think for a minute that this isn’t a fight. Every morning, I get up, I realize that if I’m still alive, God has a purpose for me, and I put on my gloves and do battle. Some days I’m victorious, and I can’t tell you the glory of the satisfaction of a fulfulling day. The feeling all is right with the world when you lay down to go to sleep at night. And if I get my butt kicked that day, I’m gentle with myself, I do something nice for myself, and pray for the strength to do it all again tomorrow.

But now that I know how to fight, I’m having a lot more victories. In that, there is hope.

Off We Go!

to the sun

to the sun

I’m a dreamer.

I catch myself and tie myself back down

A dozen times a day.

I float off for a bit

Imagining what I will write

What I will draw

What I will paint

What picture I will take

What I will create

What I will do

Then I am rudely planted

Back in my chair.

Back in my office

Surrounded by things to accomplish

And no drive to accomplish them.

In the middle of my tasks

I just detach and am off again

Out the window

Towards the sun.

In my mind, I can do anything.

I can write a story

Write my life

Write yours

Change your viewpoint

Change the world!

But in reality,

I have to do these few things first…