Category: Dark skies

Depression, anxiety, insomnia, mental illness – all the makings for a dark sky.

Mistakes

On By looogaaaaaanwritesIn Dark skiesLeave a comment

Sometimes the people we love make mistakes and we have to watch as they go through the difficult stages – disbelief, grief, rage, depression, acceptance and, If they are lucky, change. It should be natural, part of human nature. We do it for them because they would do it for us.

Yet, I think watching it, knowing that there is nothing you can do about it besides talk to closed doors, deaf ears, and speak endless thoughts could not change the course of history because even if what you are saying is logical, they may not be ready to hear it. They may not be willing to hear it. They may make the same mistake again, then again.

You could be standing there, at that same door, begging for them just to let you in – to hear you out, for months, for longer. As the family, as the friend, you go through those same stages too because all you want is for them to be okay, you want them to be happy, and to do better next time but there is no guarantee that they will, that is the worst part.

The mere thought of giving up, of walking away, of being silent feels as though you are mourning someone who has not yet passed. And if you are anything like me, I want to scream, yell, kick, and fight for the right to see them as they deserve to be, happy.

I’m here, standing at that door and it’s locked. I’m scared that it is too late to make a difference but I’ll keep standing here anyways hoping one day that it will open.

My Struggles

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Lately, it’s been really hard on me. Life is just hitting me in threes and I cannot hell but look around the corner for the next two. But these hard times always remind me of one thing.

I constantly struggling with believing that I am Important to people, or that people want me around.

I want to be loved, to be wanted, to be missed.

I don’t always feel reassured or ask for validation. I wallow in silent because maybe that’s what I deserve.

Falling leaves

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Just as the leaves are changing, so am I.

It starts off subtle, the greens in my eyes turn dull and I am reminded that every winter, I say goodbye to a small part of me.

You could say that, in a way, this death is beautiful and necessary. That the leaves we pile and burn, are only the things we must let go of.

But as much as I try to accept it and grow from it, I cannot get over being bare simply to preserve myself through the cold. Or how it feels to be thought of as beautiful when the best parts of me are now in bags.

Then, when the hard months took everything they could from me – I am forced to bloom and be reborn for spring. I find new pieces of me to hold onto, bright green for the world to ignore, because there is only beauty in death.

Before you know it, there will be falling leaves again.

Dreaming dead

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I’ve always been a night owl. The silence of everyone laying their head down for the day has always brought peace to me. I can easily get lost in a book or even writing in a notebook by my window, looking up only to admire the stars. Sometimes, it’s when I am happiest.

And sometimes, it’s not.

Sleeping away troubled thoughts was an option I often took, but I am not always able to escape everyday life when I close my eyes because what I see after my head hits the pillow, is worse.

Dreams are when my suppressed anxiety and depression come out and disrupt my sleeping mind. It reminds me that it is so easy to dismiss the reality that terrible things do happen.

I dream of losing the most important things to me in fights, in break ups, in car crashes. I dream of dying by my own hands, by your hands, by freak accident. I dream of leaving, packing up, disappearing, not being able to be reached. I dream of not mattering, being ignored, being cast aside, having people realize that I am not as great as they once thought.

When I wake, I realize that these things are only dreams. That these dreams, should not matter. Not to me, not to you, not to anyone. Yet, they stick with me.

Perhaps, that is the reason that I cannot sleep, that I do not want to sleep, and that’s why I am awake so late at night trying so hard not to slip into another dream because the hardest part is waking up. The hardest part is remembering all of those things, and reliving it over and over.

Dreams are a possible reality that I simply do not wish to experience, it’s a warning, and I put my guard up once again.

My Reflection

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There’s a girl in the mirror who wears my face. When I tell her to smile, she smiles. When I tell her to frown, she frowns. When I tell her to turn to the side, she does. And I envy her.

She wears my face, my clothes, and has my body shape. But there is no depth to her, she’s a mere reflection. With a simple glimpse, her appearance could tell a story.

In the morning, she is sleepy. Just waking up after her alarm goes off. She wears my pajamas, she has my dark circles, and she yawns desperate to go back to bed and hide.

In the afternoon, she is distracted by thoughts inside of her own head. She changes into comfortable clothing, my leggings and my sweaters. She turns her pale skin and dead eyes into a colorful masterpiece. She smiles as I smile, trying to make it through the day, as if the concealer would hide the fact that she cried herself to sleep.

In the evening, she wears my tired face. The fake smile is tossed aside and the make up is wiped away revealing the sadness that lives in her cheekbones.

All she is, is a reflection of myself and still, I wish to be her. She is only a version of me, but she is one that doesn’t have to feel the way that I feel. She gets to stand there and smile when I smile. And somehow, it sounds better.

Sink

On By looogaaaaaanwritesIn Thunder stormsLeave a comment

It’s cold.

Every bone inside of my body, is frozen. I move mechanically, rusty, in need of maintenance. My head is cloudy, I can’t see anything but darkness and feel the flow of the water against my skin.

You would think that I would fight. Wanting to breathe, struggling to put my head above the water, to gasp for a fresh of breath air, to kick my legs with everything I have left in me. But I’m not.

The current is too over powering, I don’t have a life saver ring being tossed out to me. I have an audience. They want to see if I sink or swim. As if I had a choice…as if I hadn’t already made it.

I’m too tired to fight. I’m too cold, too numb to fight to see the sun light. I’m too empty to take another breathe. I’ve fought and I’m accepting loss.

I’ll sink, further and further.

I wish I could tell you that I cared, but I don’t.

Eventually, I’ll hit the bottom, and when I do, I’ll lay there.

Why Can’t They See?

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I’m a note taker. That says two things about me.

I’m detail oriented and I’m organized. Long story short, I notice things. Whether they be as obvious as a physical sign in front of my eyes, or a change in tone of voice. I notice it all. I’m keen to catch on to, and hang onto, more negativity than positivity. It’s how I’m wired.

This means that, people come to me for advice, for a shoulder to cry on, for a helping hand – to which I try my best to be there, sometimes, over doing it. They come back expecting more.

I don’t have anymore to give. More importantly, I don’t know how to explain that to them, other than fail them. It’s a viscous cycle and it all begins with one question.

Why can’t they see?

Why can’t they see the anxiety in my eyes, darting across the room. Why can’t they see the depression in my voice and hopelessness In the way that I walk. Why can’t they see the tears so obviously streaming down my face. Why can’t they see the change in me?

When I can see the change in them…

Lost

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I’m surrounded by people who think they know me just because they can tell me my favorite color, or the way I brush my hair back.

They think they know me and they walk around putting on a front that says they do. This gives them courage to speak on what they think is going on in my life and dismiss the real problem. They put themselves a head of me, like a giant bright spot light.

I’m not asking for a spot light. I’m not asking for people to care what I have to say. I’m not asking them to get to know me. Quite frankly, I don’t want them to know me, I don’t care if they know what my favorite movie is or why I count things in three’s.

I’m asking for that front, to go away. I’m asking for the fake smiles to stop, for the questions to stop, for the crossing of boundaries to stop because I’m tired.

I’m tired and I’m miserable. I don’t want to be a miserable person, so I refuse to surround myself by people who make me so. I am so much more than they make me out to be.

I’m a kind person, always thinking of someone who is close to me. I am smart, book smart and people smart if you ever give me the chance. I’m passionate about my career and hobbies. I have all this love to give but when I get nothing in return, you’ve lost me.

And maybe I’m better off lost.

Built for you

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One thing about me is that I do not like change, change makes me so incredibly uncomfortable that I can barely function. Changing my address, going from a house full of people to being alone, having my dog be the only one greeting me at the door with a wagging tail, and to have the entire apartment silent unless it’s myself singing out. It feels almost unnatural not to have someone right there in the next room asking about how your day went.

I am by no means a social person, however, I require a soft touch or a kiss on the cheek every so often and It looks like I will be walking in to silence. I’ll be placed back into a box, getting placed on a shelf, shoved to the back making room for new things, collecting dust, until I meet my ultimate demise – a donation bin to the next person to love and put aside.

I just have to learn that sometimes, you’re not built for some people. You may have qualities that will suit people. You’re funny, you’re smart, you’re beautiful. But these qualities maybe enough until the next thing comes along, then there are other qualities that may look or seem, better. You’re not built to be anybody else other than you, don’t try to upgrade yourself to please another person.

The best thing about staying who you are, is that you are built perfectly to someone else. They will love you for the way you speak your mind, the way you stand up for other people, the way you laugh, the way smile, the way you always care for other’s even when they don’t care for you… Someone is out there, looking for exactly who you are.

Being properly taken care of, loved, and respected is, and will always be, a necessity. Do not let someone else tell you that you’re impossible when all you ask for is minimum effort, you deserve more than that.

Pay attention to what they say and how they treat you, people will tell you exactly how they feel about you within those small actions. Don’t overwork yourself trying to make things okay when you are the only one trying. Invest in people who invest in you back and you will never question where you are in life.

So maybe you aren’t built for them, you know what that means? They aren’t built for you either, there is someone out there who is.

A Sentence

On By looogaaaaaanwritesIn Thunder stormsLeave a comment

In the morning they’ll see what they’ve done to me, maybe then, they will change. She wrote the mantra with shaking hands, a sentence that had been playing inside of her mind on repeat for quite some time now.

When did it all happen? How could it have come to this? More importantly, why could no one speak up to stop it?

When did the human race become so fucked up to the point where they only cared about their own feelings? How did we adapt to a fight or flight reaction when it comes to considering other people’s emotional ranges? Why did we only learn to care when it’s too late?

Negativity will always weigh more than positivity, which is why we must cling to anything and everything good. It’s much easier to have and keep a negative mindset than a positive one. So why can’t we go the extra mile and do the next kind thing?

All it was, was a sentence inside of a twenty year olds’ head. That twenty year old could have been a stranger, a coworker, an acquaintance, a boyfriend, a brother, a mother, a father, a husband, a wife, or even a child.

A sentence that became the hook of a suicide note. Don’t be so quick to automatically blame the victim, there are many steps and major events that push someone into taking their own life. The worst part is, there are several people that play a part in the story.

Often people will blame the victim of a suicide because they died at the hand of themselves. It’s believed that the guilt and sadness that the person who passed is only relocated into the friends and family. Which, isn’t fully true. You’ll never truly understand or feel how someone else felt because you’ll never be in the exact same shoes. Despite it not being the same, it’s similar, and like with all trauma – it hurts.

Suicide is never unexpected, whatever path you take, you’re leaving foot prints. A trace, something that can be seen or picked up. Whether you choose to examine the size seven and a half, is entirely up to you.

Look at the past events in their life and see what everyone, her included, could have done to prevent a tragedy. Did you dismiss her over something so small? Did you consciously choose to bully someone directly or indirectly? Did you act with kindness instead of negativity? Did you communicate with her or blame her?

More importantly, while she was alive did you make her feel as though she was loved? Communication takes five minutes and effort cost nothing.

As a community, we could do better for ourselves. We could do so much for others, and yet, we continuously choose not to. We decide to admire the beauty in someone when they are no longer there and pick the flaws out while they are still here.

There’s so many steps to suicide prevention. The choice is, are you going to let this sentence be a blog post, or a suicide note?