Dealing with Demons

Trigger warning: This is a blog about dealing with depression.

[dealing-with-demons]

Little-Considered Side of Bipolar

Feeling super up and happy and pleasant and then thinking “Crap, what if this is just the precursor to a depressive episode?”

Then subconsciously trying to calm down and be less excited as if you can prevent said depressive episode.

If it’s even coming at all.

[dealing-with-demons]

This Again?

It's been one of those odd days which has put me in a foul mood. I can't put my finger on a reason for it... Okay, I can, but I don't care to say because it's one of those things once said cannot be taken back. But I'm angry. Deep down, To-Hell-With-You angry. Shut-the-Door, Shut-All-Of-You-Out, Forget-The-Whole-Thing-and-Start-From-Scratch angry. Don't want anything to do with anyone angry. Strange as it sounds, it's a good anger. Feels good. Indignant. Cleansing. The problem is there's nothing I can do about it. Even if I did scrap the lot of it I couldn't really purge out this feeling the way I want to. Couldn't really say what I want to say. I think the worst part about this is I feel like I'm just screaming into a void. No one hears or listens to me like this. There's one person in the world I can let close at the moment. The rest of them... I find, for the first time in a long time... I'd rather just walk away from them all. I started on meds three months ago. So far they keep feelings like this away. So it's been a while since I've felt all hollow and deliciously hurt from the inside out like this. I think I missed it.

[dealing-with-demons]

I'm Alone Right Now

And my stomach hurts from the things I can't say.  To anyone.  Secrets I have to keep balled up inside my gut... things that aren't safe to say.  If I can write a poem about pulling the trigger on myself, you'd think I could say what's really bugging me, right?  But I can't.  I can't tell you this.  Any of you.  You know who you are?  Do you see me?  No.  You don't.

And it hurts.  And I'm going to smile and put on a happy face.  I'm going to cling to that fake smile until my lover comes home and I can hide in his arms.  But I can't even tell him what's hurting me so deeply... I can only cry, and know his arms are there, and know that has to be enough.

It's not his fault.  It isn't.  Of all the people in the world, he is the safest.  It's not his fault I can't tell him the truth.  I love him... and no matter what he says, I'm sure this sickness in me will one day hurt him too much.  I won't risk that.  So even he can't know.

But until he gets home... I'm alone.  Alone with these feelings and these thoughts... alone with so many things that scare me for their nearness, their simplicity.  Alone, even though soon I will hear the voices of people dear to me... underneath it all, I am still alone.  Until he comes home.

Until he saves me from myself.

And still at night in silence do I scream:

What the Fucking Hell is WRONG WITH ME???

[dealing-with-demons]

Pull the Trigger, Baby

2013

  I wonder if there will ever be a day

When I can look You in the eye and say

"Pull the trigger, baby."

  A day when I don't have to be scared of You.

When I can smile and it will be a real smile,

When I can be happy and really feel it all the way through.

Feel normal,

Feel like a person,

Not feel like You.

  Because there are still days when I

Want to pull the trigger.

Days it's not a challenge,

But a dark and looming possibility,

The wide-eyed barrel,

The lonely house,

The endless potential,

Point and Click.

  Because You loom behind every corner.

You wait until I think I'm okay,

Until I think I can handle it,

Then You punch me in the gut.

You kick me in the throat.

You make me angry,

Make me scared,

Make me want to lash out, still,

Everyday,

Even though I know it's just a trigger,

Just a trick,

Just an illusion,

Just a lie.

  You make me want to pull the trigger,

You make me want to point and click.

You make me want to kill myself,

And I can,

I know it,

It scares me because it's there

So close

  And sometimes, the only thing closer

Is You.

[recoveryisbeautiful]

[ard3nt]

this is how I learned to stop doing it, people should reblog this. 

[sheriffsbigby-blog]

this is actually important

[ripcatenderbat]

Hey look self harm advice that acknowledges that there’s more than two reasons that people do it

applauds

[dealing-with-demons]

This is good information to have.  Sometimes these things work for me... sometimes not.  But it's good to have and hang on to, anyway.

[dealing-with-demons]

Worthless

I've been incredibly down lately.  Feeling so out of place... like I don't know who I am or where I belong.  The role I was born into -- that of the big sister, the one responsible for all the little ones, "Tiger Mama"-- it seems like there is no need or place for me there.  And I don't know who to be if not that person.  It's gotten so that the only real important role I fill anymore is being the worker drone.  I have a job; I report to it; I fund the needs of my husband and myself.  That feels like the extent of my importance.  I feel very unwanted, unneeded, and unnoticed.  

I wrote this almost ten years ago, but it works for me right now.

~   ~   ~   ~   ~

I don’t really want to be here…

I don’t really want to take this.

I don’t want really want to hear you

Tell me I’m not worthless.

  I don’t like the life I’m living,

I don’t like the shape I take.

I hate everything about me,

And I hate it for your sake.

  So why try and lift my spirits?

You don’t know me as I am.

You don’t know the things I do

or things I say

To make up for the beauty that I lack.

  So try and tell me I’m not worthless.

Try and tell me I’m alive.

Tell me I’m unique and special,

And I’ll label it a lie.

  Because deep inside I’m worthless.

Deep inside I am sub-par.

I’m nothing great, I’m nothing new,

I’m inadequate by far.

  In everything I do, and in everything I say,

I try to be unique in my own way.

But I have eyes to see, and all this world tells me,

I’m worthless, I’m no good,

So go away.

[dealing-with-demons]

Real Hurt

~

Some time back, in therapy, we touched upon an idea that I don't admit hurt the way that, perhaps, I should.  I think that the phrase my doctor used was, "minimizing emotional impact".  It's very true--so true that in the same session I vehemently denied ever suffering anything so traumatic that I should deserve to feel hurt.  My therapist actually swore.

This poem, I guess, is a way to confront something that perhaps hurt me more than I have ever been willing to admit.  Though even now it's hard for me to say it deserves any attention at all.  I'm just in a bad place today and this is the result.

  My reflection in the mirror shows a malformed face.

Other people never see it, but it’s there. A place

To which the hurt is written, deepest hurt I won’t admit.

Here in lines and scars and tears, which I count counterfeit.

Eaten up within my heart and swallowed, never fought,

Ripping me apart, to pieces, hurt that’s not forgot.

See, since the day you looked at me and said that thing you said,

 ~

“Little one, if I were you, I’d wish that I was dead”.

Over and over, though I dismissed it, there it is again:

Voracious pain that I deny, bleeding through my skin.

Each time someone tries to comfort, say that it’s all right,

 ~

I smile and say, “Of course it is. It didn’t hurt like it might.

So many others out there have such greater, deeper wounds;

 ~

Perhaps I’m just a selfish child to think my hurt counts, too.”

Every year that passes by, though, draws me closer yet,

Abiding with that pain inside, that curse you laid down then.

Cutting into my own flesh, and wishing I should die,

Ever keeping this in mind: it was my mother’s cry.

[dealing-with-demons]

I love Tifa and Cloud.  I wish I WAS Tifa.  And I love this song.  So, there you have it.

[brantwijn]

[dealing-with-demons]

Two Wolves

~

Fearful side of me, why do we shy,

Exhausted with our efforts to control

A part of heart we'll never true deny

Rapacious in its needs to slip our hold?

~

My soul is two parts tangled in a war:

A wolf each side may be: one soft, one wild.

Keening to the empty skies, they roar,

Each hungry for the favor of the child

Still lingering, unsure, within my heart.

~

To which wolf do I give a greater share?

Have I only the strength to feed one part?

Even in my hesitation there

~

Will always be a vicious side of me

Organically and carelessly untamed,

Looming in each shadow in me, wild intensity,

Firing up the passions in my brain.

~

But then it burns too hot and, in my fear,

I flee from all its prizes and demands,

Grasping for the means to bring to bear

Gentle wolf to gobble up its plans.

Every vying back and forth, struggling to purge

Ravenous desires that clash with shame

~

Tangled in a bloody melee, stifling any urge

Harrowed with desire to be unchained.

And in the center, here I stand both bloodied and in bliss,

Neither wolf releasing teeth dug deep into my flesh.

~

Half insane with wanting wicked kiss,

Ensnared by guilt and fear, a mangled mess.

~

I know somewhere there is a peace I somehow have denied

Sating both these wolves that rage inside.

[dealing-with-demons]

Stages (Part 3)

Towards the end, regret sets in again.

On the whole it all seems stupid then.

~

Keep your sorries, self, because by now they're wearing thin.

Every time, it's such a whirl, but all comes to an end.

Every time I pick myself up, check for any scars,

Pray that its the last I'll see of pain

~

Forged from this disease that keeps on digging at my heart,

Ripping through and eating up my brain.

Oh, it's going to go away, you'll see, I'll be just fine.

No more need to worry, I'll pull through.

~

Swear it.  It'll all dissolve with time.

It all amounts to nothing, nothing new:

No new understanding, no new faith,

Keeping a collection only, scoring ugly debts,

I'm just a mess, that's all there is to say.

Now I go on, trying to forget,

Going through the motions 'til I'm dead.

[dealing-with-demons]

Stages (Part 2)

I think the worst part is the spoiling shame.

Telling all the truth is almost worse than suffering.

~

It's fine to hurt, to hate myself, to drown myself with blame--

Saying this to you is what kills more than anything.

~

All this hopeful self-help shit aside,

~

Letting you see such an ugly face

Is cutting me much deeper; I would lie,

Force cheerfulness, and fake

Every sweet and hopeful platitude,

Laugh and smile instead of let you see

Oppressive sickness eating me straight through;

No amount of re-assurance dulls the shame in me.

Giving you a portion of my pain, asking

~

For a measure of your strength,

Is just like spreading this infectious thing

Grasping me already in its chains.

How can I not feel like I am only hurting you

To tell you when there's nothing you can do?

[dealing-with-demons]

Stages (Part 1)

"Stages" is a triptych poem in three parts.

I must believe that I am not this broken.

Fight to know that "broken" isn't real.

~

Yield to sense and reason, hear it spoken

On my own tongue; I must believe to heal.

Underneath here, somewhere, is a person.

~

A girl that must somehow survive the rain.

Real and whole, still somehow must be certain,

Even though it hurts, there's grace in pain.

~

Crying out in darkness, into silence,

How can I remember who I was?

Rippling the waters with this violence

Of anger, hate, betrayal, shame and loss.

Numb to all that says I must take courage

In faith that all I know is not forgot.

Carrying a helpless sense so urgent,

And desperate to escape this mess I've wrought.

Listen, don't you see how much I hate what I've become?

Look, can't you appreciate how much I wish it done?

You won't believe how much I think of ending all this fun,

~

Dying seems so easy; I'm exhausted and undone.

Oh, I think tomorrow I'll have caught a second wind...

Ward away depression with determination's skin,

Not to be confused with hope, because I'm still broken.

[dealing-with-demons]

True Story

The other night, a friend of a friend suggested I should die.

Somehow, he found this funny.

How could he have known that only days ago

I was thinking of suicide?

~

I'm told "thoughts cannot hurt me"

And I know that's true.

Thinking of killing myself

And actually trying

Seem about a million degrees of separation apart

Right now.

~

But it scares me

That I think about it.

There are ways to do it

Easy.

And I know how to use them

(point and click.)

~

And why does my brain have to go there?

Why does it have to scare me like that?

And why does his brain have to go there,

And think that it's funny?

[dealing-with-demons]

Prayer for Today

There is a little slip of paper hanging in my cubicle at work titled, "My Prayer for Today".  This poem is a take on that prayer, personalized.

Dear God, this is my prayer for today.

Help me to live my life--

~

Just live it.

Just find the strength to get up in the morning and move

If only so I do not slowly die.

~

Please push me

Just to find a reason,

Just to believe

That I will one day feel whole again,

Not this broken and unbalanced mess

That I am now.

~

Help me to shine

In the darkest places

When it is impossible to find any spark in myself

To love.

~

Protect me from myself,

My worst enemy,

Lift me up, because I cannot stand anymore

~

And

Help me to love myself

Because right now I can't think of anything

More unlovable

More unwanted.

~

Let me know that when I walk this earth,

I do not walk alone.

Though I feel I do,

Though I want to open my veins and drown from the loneliness

The feeling that I don't know you

Or me

Or anything

Anymore.

~

Please tell me I will be safe

Because right now I want to die

And I am running out of excuses

To live.

[dealing-with-demons]

Identity

Silver, Rhiannon, Ayasha,

Writer, Reader, Dreamer, Watcher.

Daughter of the writers gone before,

Lover of new games, new goals, horizons unexplored.

Who fears her own flaws, shortcomings, and stumbling still to come,

Who has a lot of fight left in her, stories too, and fun.

Who wants to see the world at large, her books in print, and pages yet of prose…

Resident of places no one goes.

[dealing-with-demons]

Agape

"Agape" is the third in my triptych poems on love.

  And there is no greater perfection in this world which I desire,

No seductive riches or wealth which tempt my spirit, more

Dear to me than knowing your sweet love.

~

Give to me the oceans, give me the continents, the sky—

I will want none of it, if I can simply stay here with you.

Very simply, loving all these things

Equates to very little, if I cannot love them

Sharing them with you.

 ~

If all the world’s a stage, my love,

Then you are my leading man,

 ~

Making me the leading woman standing opposite,

Every day exploring new scripts together, partners and lovers,

And journeymen in a great adventure, till death do us part.

No, not even then, my sweetest friend,

I don’t intend to forget you. 

Now into eternity, this love and all its wonders, all its treasures,

Go forever: through day, through night, through everything.