Caitlinbronwen

🌔☁️Write hard and clear about what hurts.☁️🌖 My Blog: https://caitlinbronwen.wordpress.com/

[green-dr-martens]

To Begin at the Beginning…

Hey all! So it’s been a while. And by a while, I mean a long long while. I will post a little life update in the coming days but I just wanted to write a little post here first to get this off my chest. In all honesty, I truly feel like I’ve lost myself recently. There have been times in the past, short periods of time where I’ve felt the same but somehow this time feels different. It’s been…

View On WordPress

[jericosilvers]

[green-dr-martens]

Is This as Good as it Gets?

Is This as Good as it Gets?

It’s been a strange few months. So equally full of both joy and pain. But that’s okay.

Somebody mentioned something to me recently. In a discussion about their son who is going through a rough patch. She said: “He needs to find his joy again. Life can be cruel and sometimes this is as good as it gets.” That hit me really hard.

What if this is as good as it gets? We are always worrying about the…

View On WordPress

[duhtrinity]

the education system

(these are my poems, my dms and ask are always open to anyone)

[pessimisticandrealistic]

““you have to stop doing that.” “stop doing what?” “stop sacrificing yourself for people who don’t even care for you and stop trying your hardest for people who don’t try for you at all.””

— e.s. // if only it were that easy.

[aidashakur]

not to suck my own dick but i’ve pulled myself out of some really dark places and i continue to do so

[green-dr-martens]

A Jumble of Emotional Thoughts

“You alright bab?” She would ask.

Every single time I walked through the door.

You could see the smile appear on her face as she saw you walking up the pathway.

“Do you want a cuppa? What have you been up to today then?” She’d ask.

The sound of the kettle starting to boil in the background, the clanging of a spoon against the cup.

Something I took for granted.

We’d have a good chat, some biscuits…

View On WordPress

[green-dr-martens]

The Scar

A small mark upon my wrist. Pink coloured, a few days old.

Drawing attention to the rest of my forearm. If you look closely, you see the faint scar lines of battles already fought.

It stands out. One single fresh scar. Everyone I come across peers at my wrist. “A burn from the oven”, I reassure them.

Does this make me look more guilty?

I am constantly paranoid. Do they think I did it myself? Can…

View On WordPress

[teashoesandhair]

Piecemeal

I say, “I wish she were dead.”

It’s not what I want to say. Not even close. It’s blasphemy; I stopped believing in God years ago, when things first started to hurt, but it’s sinning against her all the same. Or, more accurately, it’s too close. There is too much of what I want to say in between those five words. To want her to die is too much; it is terrible, terrifying, to want a graveside to mourn beside. And I don’t want that. Not really. But I do.

I wish she were dead. I don’t want her to die. Both the one wish. Two sides of the same truth.

I can stand it sometimes, for days at a time. There are always things to laugh at, things to smile about. Her joy at ordinary things. Her laughter at that one old joke. Her eagerness to please. Her innocence, childlike despite her fragile frame and all she’s done. All those years built up behind her. The monolith of her life, crumbling.

And then it is too much. The furrow in her brow when she tries to think of a name that matches the face before her, the face she’s seen a thousand times, the face she’s loved. The longing for old photographs and the despondency once they’re in her hands, her fingertips resting atop the film of dust, desperate not to disturb it; if the photograph is somehow obscured, there is a reason for not knowing. There is an excuse. The panic she feels at her own, unfamiliar heartbeat. The blood in her veins is an unknown. Her skin is alien.

And it is then that I want her to die. I am tired of mourning. I have mourned for years, clutching at her, trying to hold firm as she runs through my fingers like water. Her whole being is a cemetery. Each memory is a gravestone. Her thoughts are bodies, decaying. Skeletal. Then dust. There is nothing living there. She has had death in her for a decade.

Only, she lives, doesn’t she? She lives and she laughs and she loves the things she remembers how to love, and we love her back, fiercely, as though our fearsome love can claw her back from the underworld, can bridge those spaces in her brain and pull her back to us. We can’t, of course. She isn’t hiding in those spaces; she hasn’t fallen to the bottom of some pit or abyss in her mind. She has been consumed by them. Turned inside out. The abyss is her mind.

And of course I don’t want her to die. I don’t want to bury any more of her. I am tired of the burden of heaping sand. I am tired of grieving. I’m sick with it. Every day is a funeral of sorts. Every conversation is a eulogy. She hums half-remembered hymns in her chair, songs from her childhood without words. We sweep up the ashes she leaves in her wake. And we mourn until our throats are hoarse.

I am terrified that she will hollow herself out and we will have nothing left to bury.

This is what I want: to mourn perfectly, all at once, and for all of her. To put an end to this piecemeal sorrow. Not to lose her years before she’s gone. To say this who she was, this is who we’ve lost. To remember her as she was, when she still remembered us. Not to have exhausted my grief before the end of her life. To have something, somebody left to lament. For her to die alongside her body, and not before it.

[the-suicide-effect]

“You don’t realize how alone you are until you’re staying up every night thinking about things you should never think of and you can’t tell anybody because you have nobody to tell”

-the suicide effect

[green-dr-martens]

Friendship and Mental Health

Hey everyone!

So I have finally finished uni and can start to do things that I haven’t had time for during exam season! (Blogging being one of them). I have just been to spain for a week and will hopefully be sharin my experiences in future posts.

Today, I wanted to discuss something very raw to me at the moment: friendships and mental health.

So I have had a pretty up and down week. As I have…

View On WordPress

[green-dr-martens]

Do Antidepressants Work?

Hey everyone!

I know it’s been a while since I last posted but I decided to take some time off to focus on my mental health. Thankfully, things are looking up at the moment and I finally feel ready to make my comeback to blogging! So with this, let’s jump straight in with the question of today’s post:

Do Antidepressants work?

Okay, so as I already mentioned, I have been focusing on my mental…

View On WordPress

[buddhaprayerbeads]

Working too hard, feeling overwhelmed by family responsibilities, or dealing with an ongoing challenge? 

Maybe it’s time to turn your attention back to yourself and to your own self-care. Although we often brush it aside, self-care is not optional if you want to be happy and healthy.

[buddhistdreamer]

“Three things cannot be long hidden: the sun, the moon, and the truth.” – Buddha

[minus-the-negative]

It literally cannot hurt.

minusthenegative.com

[ourcrushedhopes]

[romanticnihilists]