We are unimaginative when it comes to imagining each other’s pain, personal grief. Why, when someone dies, does it feel like a crack in your chest and everything goes dry except your eyes?
Why is it this?
“Oh my God.” Tears. “I’m sorry. I love you.” I don’t know what to say.
We cradle our condolences in our hands and try to use them to hold people together. Even those of us that know and believe that Death’s plan goes hand in hand with God’s, we feel betrayal. It stings.
Tonight as I sat with Santa Muerte, praying for protection and strength, I asked that there be comfort for my cousins, my dad. We have lost so much in the last 6 years.
This is just another public announcement of mine, to hug those you love, hold them close. Drop what or who doesn’t matter, don’t embrace people, jobs, or situations that make your heart hurt, flare up your mental illness, or make you lose sleep. Life is short, it’s promised to all of us that it will be.
Death is unstoppable and the way you love should be unstoppable too. Be kind. Apologize if you need to or stay silent if that suits you but do no harm. Love. Love. Love. Love. Love. Love. Love. Love.
Descansa en paz, tía Connie. Que tu viaje sea al principio.
There will be a time where you feel fine and you will think "I don't need these pills." And you will want to stop taking them. DON'T. You're broken and the pills are part of the glue.
I was legit scared I was gonna be asleep when you had one of those last minute calls
My first attempts at flash fiction. Oh joy.
EDIT: Unfortunately this is a memory and not fiction at all. It is lacking a definite conflict or resolution. <3
Nothing is worse than having to rely on others’ judgement because you are not capable of always making wise decisions or accurately assessing the character of a person.
I hate it.
Since it has been a lifetime struggle to love myself, my emotions, my face, my body, the way I love others, I am attempting to leave behind self-doubt.
My friend was diagnosed with congestive heart failure. His heart is only pumping half the blood his body needs and the outlook is bleak. For his birthday, I bought him a journal and started it for him. I started drawing again.
It is unsettling how much you can so badly want someone to move out of your head, you can wish them happiness, give them apologies, and understand their treatment of you (all in your head) but sometimes they just won’t leave.
My brain is a battlefield.
You can only let venom bounce inside of you for so long before it starts to eat at who you are and who you will be.
I don’t know how to do this or where to start.
I feel like I’m already dead. I wish I could describe the pain that I feel so that I could manage it but there isn’t a way to do that.
I have reviewed all of my earlier posts about my suicidal thoughts and the steps I took in that direction. It isn’t that those thoughts, those urges and ideation are still present, every day, every hour almost. I am not ignoring them but I am trying to live with them until they clear up.
My blog has been hot and cold, off and on, most of this year. I don’t even know where to begin or where to end but this is going to be a huge rambling mess. I guarantee that and I also apologize to whoever reads this if it is incoherent at times. I just have a lot of screaming in my head all the time now.
Tonight my therapist told me that I should not go to San Francisco, that I should probably check myself into a hospital for suicide watch.
I am going to San Francisco. And I will not be checking myself into a hospital.
The tunnel is gone for now.
Three talks with three friends this week expressing my feelings and raising the flag of defeat in some ill attempt to let them know that I am not okay. This is not okay.
Every 5 weeks I get my hair touched up. Again with the freaking waterworks. Holy shit. My stylist was asking me about how things have been and I started crying in the middle of the salon and told her I was sorry, I didn’t mean to cry.
I think some of the worst things I’ve forced myself to do in the last two or three months is to tell people I love them and that it isn’t their fault.
The last six months have been shitty.
I thought I would start a blog to track my depression outside of my DFIU journal. I should have started tracking the spiral but I thought I was okay.
Tuesday this week would have been my mom’s 60 birthday.
I feel like I have had to quiet my real feelings for so long. I used to be so open. Due to feeling like I was under constant surveillance, I kept my words watered down for fear of people acting like nuts. Unfortunately apologies mean nothing when you can’t be sure what falsified actions were created surrounding situations and feelings.
Fundamental attribution error: our tendency to explain someone’s behavior based on internal factors, such as personality or disposition, and to underestimate the influence that external factors, such as situational influences, have on another person’s behavior.
Let’s explore that.