Haven’t I suffered enough,
Or do you want to break me even more?
I feel like I’m already mostly dead.
Do you want me to die all the way?
I am a ghost in a body struggling to live
and it feels like a burden to eat.
And yet I must feed this body,
because there are two children
relying on me to be here for them…
and they deserve a living, breathing mother
who can help smooth their way through
this rocky journey of life.
Is enduring this pain the sacrifice I must make?
Is this torture of terror, uncertainty and homelessness
the very thing that’s making me strong
and ready to change?
But how can I change
when I lack the energy
to meet my most basic of needs?
When it feels like a burden to be alive,
how do I choose to keep living?
A teacher shared with me recently
that we humans live in a great paradox
of which we are innately aware
but which is so overwhelming
that it is the root cause
of our misery and all the behaviors
that arise from our misery.
The paradox is this:
Our consciousness is infinite
and yet our bodies are finite.
The awareness in us is as vast as the universe
and yet our tiny physical beings are fragile, vulnerable.
This paradox, and the tension it creates
is too much for many of us to bear.
And so we numb.
We get addicted.
We look outside, to escape
the tension orginating from the center of our being.
I have faced this paradox over and over
as I have watched my life dissolve
before my very eyes.
Everything I knew has been obliterated.
The consciousness in me can be at peace with this.
My body is terrified, suffering from complex PTSD.
Every day I dance on a fine line
between hope and hopelessness,
love and fear,
existence and non-existence,
infinity and limitation.
I can tell you, it’s a lonely place to dance.
Back in anxiety and depression,
like they are waiting there
always in the wings
for a moment
that I might just gain some footing
at which point
they stick out their legs
just as I walk by
DOWN I go
tripping, falling, stumbling,
They tell me to remember my place.
They won’t let me ever forget.
How do you escape a prison with no walls?
How do you gain freedom
from the inner persecutor?
I would tear them out if I could,
but I can’t find where they live.
How do I find resolve to keep going
when it feels like agony just to breathe?
Stuck in darkness.
Swallowed in a feeling of futility,
waiting for it to end.
What is the solution?
I’ve tried everything I could
and now I’m told
medicine might help.
My feelings are valid.
My circumstances are challenging
and every time I reach out for support
my arms aren’t long enough
and my cries aren’t loud enough;
despite my best efforts to connect
I find myself engulfed
in utter loneliness.
If you’ve never been here before
you might find it hard
to relate to these words.
If you’ve been here before
tell me how you got out.
If you are here now with me,
let me know.
Let me know I’m not alone.
Alone, in the dark.
What’s the point of going on?
Swallowed up by grief.
Caught in a story.
I tried for a year to believe.
A year came and went
and I’m still struggling.
How do I keep believing
in a chance for better days?
I always want to find resolve
with my words.
I always want to end these poems
on some kind of inspiring note,
some kind of opening into greater things.
Tonight, I don’t have it in me.
Tonight, the sadness wins.
Down and out
pressing down on me
excited for change but
somehow things are always
I am not sure
of ever having felt more