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Posted in anxiety & depression, poetry

The Crestfallen

I had so much love to give away
But something about me didn’t make them want to stay

As I grew, I let everyone take advantage of my oversized heart
Still disappointed when they, inevitably, took what I had and made their depart

Starving for attention, I took what scraps they would throw
I figured it was just the only way they let their feelings show

I was soon hollow, easily led astray
I kept giving and giving, not realizing there would be a debt to pay

My heart, broke in my chest
My mind, full of only thoughts and regrets

Say what you will, but this made me grow wise
Now when I look at people, all I see are lies

People are destructive to a girl as empathetic as me
So I used the remains to build walls and a moat, a tiny place I could be free

Then I took my mangled heart and sewed it on my sleeve
Marking myself as the crestfallen, I would forever be.

 

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At my funeral they will say that I lost a battle, the truth is that the fatal blow had landed while my back was still turned. Before I even knew there was a war to be faught. – My (not so) Fairy Tale

The War

Posted in anxiety & depression, cancer

Invisible or Scorned?

“Be the person you needed as a child.”

I’m in one of those moods today where I’m just feeling sorry for myself. I get to thinking too much about the past and it clouds my mind. A mist of self loathing, with an aura of neglect, by the time the fog of rejection rolls in, it’s the perfect storm I’ll ride out for the rest of the day, maybe the week. The feeling of never having been really loved as a child gnaws at me constantly, it’s always there hiding behind a thin veil. I look at my daughter, and any other small child and think to myself “How do you resent a child?” Maybe I’m being dramatic, maybe it wasn’t disdain, maybe it was just complete disregard. Even then, I can’t wrap my brain around the notion. Children are (mostly) innocent beings, sent here for us to love and mold into someone who might be a bright light in a lurid place; not to use as pawns and scapegoats, or to sit idly by seeing things no child should see, hearing things no child should hear, feeling things no child should feel, being told things no child should be told.

If I had a superpower it would be invisibility. “If” sometimes isn’t even a question, sometimes I truly think that I am. It’s amazing the things people don’t see; the tears, the anguish, the dark puffy circles that make crescent moons under dull lifeless eyes, the dehydration of someone who weeps into the night. Maybe once in a month someone will look at you with a shocked examining expression and in passing say “You okay?” A million things, words, scenes, rush through your head and you almost think “this is my chance, maybe someone cares” then you remember last time you watered-down a feeling enough to actually put it into words so that someone might understand, so you just utter “Yeah, of course, long night.” with a little chuckle that you learned to use so that people don’t ask further questions.

Then one day you think maybe you can speak with a psychiatric professional, someone who knows things like this, and they can tell you, hey its okay, it’s not that bad. But instead they give you worried glances and ask if you’ve ever felt like hurting yourself or others. Yourself, yes of course, because I hate myself, I deserve it. Others; no never, I couldn’t hurt a fly. Only me, I’m the one I want to hurt. I’m the disappointment, I didn’t live up to expectations, I’m the unloved.

It may seem as though I’m just constantly feeling sorry for myself, and if so then you don’t get it. You’ve probably never felt this pure revulsion, and that is a great thing. Truthfully, I feel too aware of my situation in regards to the people around me and around the world. I constantly read true accounts of what history has done to the innocent. I’m horrified at how people have treated each other throughout the ages; and even what’s going on now, with people I don’t know, in places I’ve never been. I hate myself for it, for feeling like this, amidst the horrors of the world.

It’s amazing how much neglect and rejection can do to a person’s psyche. But it doesn’t matter because instigators don’t have to deal with the repercussions, only the recipient  does. And said person will always wonder if he/she is ever loved by every single person who claims affection. Their future companion will forever have to prove they love them, because it’s so completely inconceivable.

I’m in a constant state of waiting…
Waiting for my friends and husband to see me for who I really am…irredeemable.
Waiting for everyone to leave their seats and calmly move toward the nearest exit.
Waiting for the cancer to take over because I’m useless to the world…and only the strong survive.

Posted in breast cancer, cancer, mental Illness

Irony

I’ve suffered with depression, anxiety (most severely social anxiety), & OCD for as long as I can remember. I can’t recall many times when I was truly happy, just times when maybe I didn’t feel as bad as usual, times when I had hope. From a young age I begged God’s mercy and pleaded for death. He never obliged. Nor did anything ever get easier. It was always one thing after another.

After 22 years of suffrage a bright and shining light came into my life, my daughter. There were days that her light illuminated the shadows and darkness and for a short time I could pretend I was normal. Unfortunately there were also times when the darkness drowned out the light and I couldn’t find it, and as much as I searched for her light and that semblance of hope, it evaded me. The guilt for not being able to find the good in life when you have a child is excruciating.

But something happened in October of 2013. I don’t know if it was when they changed my medicine or what happened. I wasn’t thrilled to continue my life, but I knew I had to for my daughter. It was like something clicked and my brain processed that as long as she was living in this world, it was okay and there was always hope. Not long after my epiphany I found the love of my life, lost my job due to the business closing, and started a whole different kind of life. Of mixed blessings and hardships. Things weren’t easy and I definitely struggled (with not being able to work mostly) but there was still hope. As long as I could hold onto that hope I could get through anything. There was a light at the end of that long dark tunnel, it may have been far away, but it was there and I wasn’t giving up until I made it out alive.

At the end of 2016 Chris and I couldn’t stop talking about how our lives were finally coming together, how happy we were, and how much better 2017 was going to be. We were finally getting a break from hardships and life was looking up. But January came with the tragic news that I have breast cancer. Which a lot of people brushed off saying “breast cancer is no big deal these days, if you have cancer breast is the best to have.” What everyone was failing to mention is that is if you catch it early. Being 29 I didn’t think it a big deal when I found a small lump, it wasn’t until 8 months later when it was 8 x 7cm big that I decided to see a doctor. Convinced it was just a cyst that had gotten out of control. Stage 2 will be a blessing, stage 3 will be lucky, now I’m spending all my time hoping and praying that it isn’t stage 4 and that it hasn’t spread.

My religion fluctuates. I’ve went from believing in God to being angry with God to believing that in a world filled with all this injustice there can’t be a God. There is a quote that has moved so many emotions in me, it was written on the walls of a concentration camp by a prisoner that said, “If there is a God, he will have to beg my forgiveness.” I want to believe that there is a God watching over us, but sometimes I find it so hard to have that faith.

“If there is a God, He will have to beg my forgiveness.”

-A phrase that was carved on the walls of a concentration camp cell during WWII by a Jewish prisoner.*

I can’t help but wonder if I have brought this all upon myself. Praying for death. Was that God’s plan, to give me everything I would want to live for then deliver death in a slow and agonizing way? Is this my punishment? Haven’t I suffered enough? I keep hoping that maybe this is his way of making me fight for my life, making me realize once and for all that I do want to live.

At least I hope that’s the plan. Because this would be a cruel end to an already tortured life.

* I’m not at all comparing my struggles to that of a Holocaust victim. This is just a quote that has stuck with me word for word for many years. It reminds me of the injustices and of the world and makes me feel as though I’m not the only person angry at whatever higher power for the way I’ve been constantly harassed by trauma.

Posted in breast cancer, cancer, poetry

Your Downfall

You don’t follow God’s plan, your victim’s journeys are left unfinished
Don’t you see that the surrounding survivor’s quality of life is forever diminished?

You don’t just annihilate one spirit, you poison everyone in proximity
Then every time they hear your name whispered, they will be filled with the imagery
The lives you took, how you let them suffer
The strong you made defenseless, the righteous you put under
Listening to loved ones and the infected beg for mercy
You may be the champion of death for now, but only because you fight dirty.

You don’t even stick around to see the damage you’ve done
Like the coward you are, you simply turn tail and run.

But now you going to hear from me, I’ve seen first hand the residue you leave in your wake
I’ve held a friend when you thrust upon her more than one human could possibly take.

At one time I would have accepted your diagnoses with a smile on my face
But you see that was an entirely different case
I too begged for mercy from a different sort of evil
But you caught me at the wrong time, now I plan to be your upheaval.

I may break down, I may come apart at the seams, but I will arise
So don’t take this for weakness, because I will be your demise.