Category Archives: depression

The Path is Dark and Lonely

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I want to trust the process of becoming
but the path is dark and lonely
and I can’t see two feet ahead of me.
I’m floundering through a forest of pain,
shadows everywhere, loud sounds,
danger, chaos…
and it’s all in my head.
I look up and look around.
I’m in a room,
it’s a bright sunny day,
no danger.
But the night is approaching swiftly,
and this is when the painful thoughts
have the most power over me.
I want to trust this process of becoming
but the path is dark and lonely
and I can’t see two feet head of me.

When Will I Feel Whole?

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And so the dark night passed,
and I awoke with new hope…
and then this morning at breakfast
my daughter was unkind.
Eight years old and
knows exactly what to say
to poke at the most tender spot.
I’m glad you’re not coming
with us to Utah.
I was devastated,
hurt and angry…
Tired, undernourished,
and without the resources
to be skillful.
I asked if she wanted the other woman
to be her mother.
A most definitive NO was her answer.
It seems the joke is on me.
As much as I try
even a child can break me.
It’s easy to do when my life was shattered
in so many pieces
and my tears are the only glue I have
to hold them together.
I wonder if I’ll ever again
be put back together in one piece.
I wonder…
When will I feel whole again?

Depression Sucks

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I thought it would get better by morning.
It didn’t.
If anything it was worse.
After getting the kids on the bus,
I got back in bed,
hoping to sleep off
some of the depression and anxiety.
I got up a while later;
my body was hungry.
Made myself a protein shake,
went back to bed.
Then the guilt and the shame arrived.
You should be working.
You should be making money.
Stop feeling sorry for yourself.
You’re a piece of shit.
That didn’t help either;
it just made it worse.
You know what?
Depression really, really sucks.

NaPoWriMo 2018, Day 23: Out There

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In this world where everything has died
I notice the silence above all.
Sometimes a car passes by
reminding me that life goes on for others,
out there.
But in here, in this house,
everything has died.
I buy myself some flowers
and for a few days
their sweet scent reminds me of living…
but as all living things must,
the flowers wilt and decay
and now I am responsible for
disposing of their remains.
If only the remains of my marriage
could be thrown out like the spent flowers.
Its faded scent lingers,
and so do all the fallen petals
of the hope I kept alive for so long.
My children are with him tonight.
He took our two cats as well;
it’s eerily silent here.
Silent like death.
Now here I am,
listening to this absence of sound
inside a home once raucous
with the symphony of existence.
A car passes by now,
reminding me of the life that goes on out there.