Daily Post-It Thoughts


I’m so hungry  

for nothing you can give me

I don’t need

Anything but to be free

It can’t hold me

You must see that it’s nothing

Nothing to me

To seek in vain

The next best thing

But as I change

I can’t be chained

To what I was. Should. Could 

be

I am me-

I don’t need anything

But eternity

~

Free write


At the end of the plan
No cards left in my hands

Everything seems meaningless

How do they learn to enjoy this

When invention’s lost its purpose

All intentions feel so worthless 

When soul is dry

No child life left inside

Lost with innocence

Maybe I’m just the ignorance

Isolation by frustrations vain

Same old shit on a different day

All I crave to run

All I need on my skin a new sun 

But So mundane

Caught in this cage

Never home

Its starting to show

I run 

I feel 

my ways

Just to burn away 

all so the same

Where Is the Road Out?


          Why am I afraid of talking about the entity that so struggles for its influence on my day to day life and fights relentlessly for my life in its entirety? The very things I spend the majority of my time, thought, and energy managing are the very things I won’t talk about- or apologize every third sentence and pepper it with positivity- doing myself no favors. Its easier to avoid the subjects altogether, with anyone. Yet of the various issues tirelessly running through my indistractable mind, I’ve concluded that my longstanding approach of telling my experiential emotions to “sit back, shut up, and no one one cares”- hasn’t proven its efficacy. Most matters in my life have turned out to be no different. The issues only fester and grow.

         Only recently have I come to the realization that since I was a small child I’ve subjected myself to this continually unchallenged notion that my emotions and pain are only valid if others allow them to be. How can I not see that my feelings and reality are valid regardless of others’ invalidation, down playing, relative comparison, or downright unqualified positions to make such conjecture to something outside of themselves? I mean really see and act in accordance!

           Yet fighting this necessity, there never fails to be some “conscious” individual with the obligation to remind me of the self fulfilling prophecy, placebo effect, laws of attraction, meditation and epigenetics, or the quantum implications of talking about anything dark or negative. Yet pain and darkness is such a pervasive part of my life everyday, of which I wrestle with additional shame regarding “how are you” and “what are you up to”s.          This still very much includes conversations with myself. 

           I always wake up with the intent to do better and try harder, but hate myself when my best doesn’t seem like enough to bring any consequential change in my life. I’m the most familiar with just how much shit I deal with on an hourly basis, yet continue to have the least amount of compassion for myself of most anyone. Yet where the hell is the line between healthy optimism and being an asshole to myself?  I’m ever telling myself the same mantras, guilting myself into action and shutting the vulnerable child part of myself in the closet (and then I wonder why I’m awful with kids). 

             I don’t know what else to do with that half of myself because it’s been around for so long without quieting or resolution.  The harsh, judgmental, bordering on psychopathic part of myself, I reserve solely for myself- the beaten, defenseless, lonely part of me that ‘s been in pain for over a decade- the part I spend so much time hiding from everyone. The part that no one has ever actually seen for exactly how it is. 

I’m in an abusive relationship with myself and I don’t know how to get out.  

No fucking bullshit positivity today. I’m endlessly thinking, trying to figure out how to get out of it-  all of it.

Seasons Change

I came upon that field today

That lonely one set in a far away place

(That day the season had changed)

The sun caught me so brilliantly

With a dying gold

Reminding me again of all the things of old

As i just watch the meadow grow

And though the thorns dig deep into my skin

In this war of attrition

I’ll never give into the worry 

I gotta be stronger than the story

That place I passed by a year in time

Down the line

The seasons steal by the same each time

Yet so unpredictably wild

And I just watch the flowers unfold

And though the thorns sink in

Soul and skin

In this war of attrition

I’m never giving in to their worries

I gotta be stronger than the story

Winds whispering to me

things won’t always be so the same

Some day

Seasons change.

May 12th Thoughts


“Cherish every moment.” “Be present.”

        I’ve heard it, read it, and seen it for so long, a thousand times in my life- only briefly flashing across my conscious mind-thinking I understood it, but really it was only an objective and sterile understanding. I’ve been guilty and wrestled with always looking back – and therefore living in the past. I excel at living in the future and consequently freaking myself the fuck out. While taking into account that especially my inner perception of that past can be skewed by bias and idealization- I continually find myself disarmed, angry, and despondent in assessing where/ who I am in relation to my past. 

        Its all very ironic to me now how much a part of my mind is always missing something, someone, some momentary experience that never again will be. 

Ironic because I’ve dealt with depression for over 10 years and I used to think life was so dreadful, when what I wouldn’t give to feel that way again.  

              I’m so extremely blessed in having all of my needs, but it’s well known that having it all materially rarely equates happiness, much less fulfillment. I see now the many blessings and pains that I took for granted, and still continue to in my present life. Even some of the most painful, dark moments of that past I now can look back on as relevant and even miss- because I know that it did turn out ok and I came out stronger and wiser for it. Today I oftentimes can speculate that things seemingly have grown progressively worse in regards to my emotional state, world view, relationships, societal standing, and of what resides in my deepest heart. 

           The trend I couldn’t help but observe is perpetually gnawing at one part or another of my mind and has created this monstrous fear of the future- even of life itself. I’m afraid to commit to anything or anyone because I’m so used to falling off of the map every other month and having to rebuild myself with recycled pieces for the thousandth time-and seemingly end up putting my life on hold. 

           Yet perhaps I AM living my life- a life that is ever changing and always has so suddenly that I would never believe if you told me five years ago that I would be living on disability for “mental illness.” 

Yet I’m still absolutely terrified to let anyone be a part of that life- my life.

I’ve been alone for so long I don’t know right now how to do it any differently. I keep acting as if I’ll let someone in when I’m better, when I start “living my life,” But as I watch the lives of plenty around me crumbling, it seems that this IS life. Good and bad-and I do have my good moments, right in tandem with the bad. 

         It’s ridiculous because I know that there’s never a perfect time for opportunities and change. I’ve try to stop running, hiding my failures, and have the courage to show my scars, fears, and insecurities but repeatedly run into the wall of my own self projected condemnation of myself- that I’ll never be together enough for anyone, and I don’t want anyone to confirm my own suspicions.

         Most of the time it all doesn’t seem worth it at all, that life is perpetually taking more than I can will it to give. But I’ve seen as much beauty arise from painful, dark circumstances and feelings as the from contrary. I’ve seen the most extraordinary things in my life in the darkest places and the most downcast countenance. I want to be able to share all of those experiences with people, like we were meant to. Learning to cherish even the shitty ones, allowing myself to be vulnerable and finally connect with people and each of the moments we cross paths in.

         

May 9th free write


I just want to scream. My thoughts are racing, each realizing their own frustrations. 

I need to run but I feel caged. 

I need to climb out of this pit to some place high- illuminated and alive. 

I’ve just woken up from a month long haze and I can feel the familiar flames of frustration entangling with a driving hunger for something unfamiliar- a thing seemingly just out of my reach. 

          I hate these fucking chains about my heart, and the half of my mind I perpetually live to fight against. I’m tired of being restricted by flesh- by the weakness and fear that I desire to purge from myself but can neither escape nor indefinitely overpower. 

I want out! 

I can’t bear to simply exist in this battle anymore. 

I’m worn, weary, and resentful of fighting the poison in my mind and body, which wages war against my soul. I seek freedom. So I must continually chase after the glimpse of light that I have seen, and it will never be over- 

until I find the endurance to win.

A Short Silence and A Long Lesson


           I feel as if I need so badly to write something-anything to begin to try to sort out a little of the continual whirlwind that my mind is in. Only it seems there are too many little pieces flying in a tornado too quickly to grasp for the means of conveying them to myself, much less anyone else. I’m developing an ever increasing ambivalence for words, because no amount of them seem to satisfactorily say what I want to or am experiencing inside. So here goes something of a recounting nature….

             I’ve been home now for almost two weeks after my month and half long venture in a residential treatment center and then psych ward. After a bit over a month, in a moment of overwhelming frustration, I prayed that insurance would suddenly drop me and all coverage- though I had another 2-3 months of treatment. So the next day, the insurance did and I found myself home again, though it felt the most surreal kind of unfamiliar for those 6 days. I thought I would be relieved to be home and away from the kind of controlled environment that made most drug rehabs look extremely lenient. Instead I found myself rather shocked and not knowing what to do, going from 24/7 dictation to near complete freedom.

Only I’m still not free.
I still have this disease in my mind.

In my bones.

In my hope.
             The inexpressible depression that’s gnawed at my mind and body for so long hadn’t lessened then or now. The suicidal ideation and attempts that landed me an involuntary stay in treatment were only attempts to kill the pain and escape the guilt and condemnation I wrestle with inside. 

                When I was sent home and it all crashed in on me- realizing that all the work had changed nothing regarding how I feel inside- I tried to hurt myself again and ended up in a psych ward on a 51-52/50 hold. Sparing the details, the place itself was enough incentive to hopefully never try to off myself again, because I would never want to go back there. I dare say it was as bad or worse than the movies and the cliches. They kept telling me it was for my own safety and that I was a danger to myself. Yet feeling more like cattle than patients, under some creepy Freemason/ illuminati regime, it was anything but safe- physically or mentally. People in my life had been telling me long before my admission that “this is a test”, or that it was at least coming. 

Well, this felt like the test of a lifetime. 

             Being trapped and powerless in an energetic black hole that could break most healthy individuals without even any predisposition to mental health issues, I quickly figured out that if I showed sign of the absolute terror ripping away at me- that I would be kept longer. I couldn’t afford in any manner to stay any longer. Every day was wearing down my nervous system and fabricated disposition- so I took the pills, swallowed the fear, dissociated, and pretended to a degree that I never knew I was capable. 

 Luckily, I was released for stable presentation (though I felt anything but) to another impatient center, of which I requested to return to the one I had come from. After enough awesome people fought with insurance companies, it was approved for me to return there. 

           Everyone including myself assumed that I would kiss the ground and cry tears of joy just to at least be back in a physically safe environment. Instead, I ended up being too exhausted and dissociated and everything I had pushed down in order to present in a certain manner manifested. Essentially, I quickly became too physically and emotionally sick to continue in any kind of treatment. In addition to already being at an extreme of exhaustion and sleep deprived for a week, I was forced to cold turkey stop a couple medications I had been taking for the past year. This was definitely the best time right? Ha..

“Psych yourself out of it.”

“It’s all in your head!”

“Aren’t you grateful to be out of there?”

“You just don’t want to get better.”

I heard it all in my few lucid moments inbetween various episodes. 
I couldn’t think. Was I dying? 

I couldn’t remember. I couldn’t get the world to stop spinning for days. 

I couldn’t prove to anyone that I truly feared and do believe that I was in the middle of an actual nervous breakdown, and not the kind we so lightly joke about. My head is always a fucking freaky place, but this was seriously scaring even me. Everyone kept telling me that I came back a different person, and not in a good way. 

“Where did the Warrior go?”
“I feel like I don’t even know you!”
I KNEW I wasn’t right in the head and my body has always followed suit. 

But I couldn’t prove it to anyone. 

I shouldn’t have had to.
        I laid on that bed enough days and nights thinking, praying, and crying about what to do. I felt pathetic, voiceless, and unheard when I tried to “assert my needs”.. The indescribable fear I felt inside was dragging out every minute to make some of the longest days I’d experienced, but I was still stuck somewhere that I couldn’t recompose myself. I felt trapped.

          After about a week I started to make plans to leave “Against Medical Advice”, whether I had somewhere to go or not. Bank account empty, food stamps spent for the month, I could only think of one person I barely knew who I could stay with. I didn’t want to mooch off anyone and the last thing I needed was to feel like an imposition to compound my life guilt, on top of everything. Last minute, and much to my surprise, my parents told me that I could move back home- that after a month and a half and some unforeseen circumstances, I had given it more than a fair try. So after much thought, prayer, mediation, and against everyone’s advice, I went home- unaware of any contingencies I would experience. 

             The past couple weeks have been a new level of dual exhaustion still, but I’m trying to do things anyway- though completely unsure of what to do with myself. I’m still trying to calculate what the purpose of this whole ordeal was. I’m not necessarily questioning my decision to leave, but I at least figured I would be somewhat better off afterwards. I’m still working with the same things, only I’m more tired, with better acting skills and a tougher outlook on life. 

            I have absolutely no plan at this point-

 but I suppose that’s nothing new, considering the last couple years. I’ve become a leaf on the wind- always wanting to leave yet stay, wandering in and out of life, and all the maddening paradoxes of which I can’t seem to get together for a minute. I want to be able to be ok with where I’m at, but I’m not. I seem to have compassion for everyone but myself.

            The one thing I have undeniably noticed in this last couple months is a level of connection with God that I had never thought possible. The sorrow isn’t lessened. The pain isn’t easier- but I feel like the darkness within myself has finally begun to shift into light. I don’t particularly feel better- just different and I can recognize the difference. In the deepest days of sorrow I’ve been blessed to experience glimpses of the highest, brightest promises of eternity. I’ve always told God that if He was going to speak to me or give me any signs, that they had to be so obviously undeniable that they could practically slap me in the face with their implications- and He has. 

            He’s spoken to me in such a way that I can’t even wrap my mind around, that He actually has been hearing me this whole time. He’s been with me- silent for a time of testing- but there. I can almost take solace in simply knowing that He has seen all the countless moments I’ve kept hidden from everyone. He’s showered me with so many signs and confirmation of my direction and security that I couldn’t begin to write them down. Even after trying to seek God most of my life, I had come to a point that I would hesitate to say He even existed. Now there’s no doubt in my mind at all that He’s there and loves with a kind of majesty and orchestrative beauty that I’m speechless at even the shadow of who He truly is. 

It’s true that God is patient, and compassionate to those who cry out to Him from even the lowest places, where I was so sure He couldn’t hear me. 

            The hurricane of my life continues to rage as it has now for a while, the circumstances appear to only worsen on every side, but I keep hearing to wait.

I have no idea what I’m waiting for.

I hate where I’m at in life, the way I feel every day, I still want to be dead, and there’s absolutely no evidence that things can be remedied. Yet faith is being sure of what is unseen, and I keep hearing God specializes in those. 

So I suppose I’m waiting for a miracle? 

           Sounds cliche, but there’s no real answer to all the questions coming my way. Besides, time isn’t linear and it’s all already played out. I’m sure the details ironed themselves out somewhere on the other side of this blink that is mortality. As for all those questions about what I’m doing with my life-

I’m just here, enduring.