Sink

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?

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

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.

A Sentence

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?

An Open Mind

Not everyone you meet in life will agree with the way you choose to live you’re own life – as if your actions directly effect their lives, when it doesn’t. I believe in agreeing to disagree but I also believe that who you choose to surround yourself with, speaks volumes about who you are as a person.

When it comes to me, I choose to live an open mind, however I do our labels on myself that I truly identify as. I’m a straight, white, woman. I consider myself a devote Christian. I realize that I am privileged, just by simply being white. This does not mean I don’t struggle in life, it means that the color of my skin will never be a struggle of mine.

I may be all of those things, but I choose to think that everyone has a right to live their life the way that they want too and be who they want to be.

I am a strong LGBTQ+ supporter, I believe that love is love. Couples in love are beautiful whether they are the same sex or not. They should have the right to love and be with whoever they want to. They are people and people deserve to have rights.

I back up Black Lives Matter movement, I stand up for minorities. I recognize that they will struggle more in life simply because of their skin color. They should have the right to feel safe and protected. They are people and people deserve to have rights.

I’m a feminist. This does not mean that I don’t like men, it means that I believe that both sexes should be equal. Women and Men should be paid the same rate/salary and should be treated the same instead of one being superior over the other. Girls can be tough, boys can be sensitive – there shouldn’t be gender roles. They are people and people deserve to have rights.

It’s okay to have a difference in opinion with someone, what’s not okay, is to have a difference morals in your inner circle. Liking vanilla Ice cream and being prejudice are two different things, one is acceptable, the other is not.

Another thing about me, I’m not quiet about my opinions. Why should I be? After all, I’m entitled to my own opinion. If that offends you, don’t come around me or better yet – I won’t come around you. I will not tolerate disrespect, racism, prejudice, or Trump supporters.

Being up front about my morals, causes people to make their own sly comments, as a coward behind social media, behind my back under mumbled breath, and even straight to my face. I will never stay quiet about it.

Within the month of June, I have lost a total of seven family members, and three friends just due to the fact that I support the Black Lives Matter protest. Just as I did, years ago, but years ago no one said anything to be about it. Trump give these prejudice, racist, and uneducated people a voice in this country to “build the wall”, “make America great again”, and take away the rights of women to their own bodies.

Do I care? No. Why would I want to surround myself with people so close minded that they want everyone in the world to be straight, white, and republican?

People should be who they want to be, however they want to be it. Because, after all, it’s their life, not yours. What they choose to do, who they choose to be, and how they choose to go about it -get this – doesn’t effect you.

If your neighbor is black, does that mean it makes you black? No. Your sister is gay, does that make you gay? No. Your best friend came out as Transgender, does that make you transgender as well? No. If your mom is a feminist, does that mean you’re one too? No.

So again, I ask, why does it matter?

The answer: it doesn’t. And here’s why:

Your daily life should not differ simply because you choose to be who you are. You should be treated as a human, with rights, and be treated with respect.

You shouldn’t look at a gay person and treat them less because of their sexuality. You shouldn’t look at a Transgender and treat them less because they identify differently. Even if your religious. Love thy neighbor.

You shouldn’t look at a minority and look down on them because their skin color is of a different variety of yours. After all, melanin is only one of the few differences between you.

You shouldn’t look at a women and automatically believe that she is weak or belongs in the kitchen. She carries life within her body and pushes it out, then proceeds to care for the child. A women can do any job a man can, and sometimes, better.

You shouldn’t look at someone with a different religion and call their god a fraud. You cannot comprehend the miracles that have taken place in their life because of their form of worship.

Not everyone thinks this way, and honestly, it baffles me. What’s so offensive about people living the way they want to live? What’s offensive about them demanding rights, rights that they deserve?

Because we are all just people. Whether you are black, white, Hispanic, religious, non religious, a man, a women, identify as another pronoun, feminist, and at the end of the day – we are just skin and bones. Looking at our skeletons, you can’t tell who we were or what we believed.

Nobody is perfect, so why spend your time judging everyone else when it’s just a poor reflection of your self?

I will choose to continue to live an open-minded life because it bring me peace. I feel peaceful believing that, no matter what, we are all equal and we all deserve rights. Despite my close minded relatives and ex friends, I will thrive knowing that I go out of my way to use my white privilege for good because that says a lot about me – and less about you.

I will support you all, no matter the circumstance and I will always lend a hand or an ear to anyone who needs it. For that, I am blessed.

Just Write

When it comes to change, I’m awful at it.

I’m not talking about changing my hair color, clipping my nails, repainting my room, or finishing a book.

I’m talking about real change, the kind that you cannot control.

I’m a person who thrives on a schedule. On familiar objects. Familiar situations. Simply because it’s routine to handle a work schedule, a social schedule, and a love life.

However, every now and then, I get thrown out of my comfort zone without food, shelter, or even water. I’m standing there, in the pouring rain, trying to remember why I didn’t grab an umbrella.

During times like this, I can usually cope by writing. Which I have not been doing. When I should just write.

Just write. Even if it is just a paragraph, or a sentence, or the same cuss word repeated over and over. Because I’m not putting the focus on something constructive, I just sit there and worry. When I can: just write.

It’s amazing what a pen and paper can do or how typing up how you feel helps you understand it. So,

Just write.

Up Late

Here I am. It’s 4:28am and I’m listening to my fan spin around and around. Thinking about why things in life, don’t matter.

This house that I sleep in, doesn’t matter, because in a month it will be sold. This stage in life, doesn’t matter, because I’m a few months it will be my twenty-fourth year. My feelings, don’t matter, because in thirty minutes I’ll feel differently.

I want to believe that there is a reason for everything. Yet, I cannot see past the water that my ship is sinking into.

My white flag for surrender is waving high but no one will take me home. I’m stranded, standing on the deck, and I’m alone.

So I’ll just wait for my last breath.

Holding on

I’m finding it increasingly hard to hang onto what I’ve got in life right now. Reality has set in my eyes, the possibility of ever being happy get thinner and thinner. You never truly can “cure” mental illness…you either live with it or die from it. I’m not sure which one is more miserable.

Is it all worth it? Living past twenty-five, having little mini me’s run around my ankles, own a few more dogs, get grand kids, owning a house, use my future degree, get married..is it all worth sticking around to see? Will it all be worth it, if in the end, none of it matters?

Because lately, everything seems like it’s downhill from here. I haven’t accomplished much and I don’t know why anyone would be proud of me. My world is shattering around me and I’m slipping through the cracks.

I have nothing solid to stand on, right when I believe everything is safe, the rug gets pulled from under me reminding me I have no sense of security.

My best isn’t good enough. I’m giving more and more and still not worthy of simple titles. Not worthy of praise. I’m getting overlooked and I don’t know what to do about it other than stare blankly into space.

I can’t provide a roof over my head, let alone the bills in my pocket. I can’t choose where I should stay, in my truck or in a home. I don’t get to have my feelings considered, only hurt.

I do everything I can to be there for people, and yet, I’m second best. I’m thought of last. I’m a last resort. I’m a person you only call on when you can’t get a hold of anyone else.

Why is that? When I give everything?

Because I’m still holding onto things, when it’s best, I just let go.

My Independence

“Love her but leave her wild.”

-Atticus

One thing that I have always prided myself in was no one can tell me or force me to do something that I don’t want to do.

I, strictly, do what I want.

I take advice, guidance, other points of view, and help into consideration but I still – do what I want.

I’m sure the people who whisper about me will just categorize me as stubborn. Maybe selfish. Possibly uncontrollable. In some ways, I’m viewed as a failure, a bitch, or a rebel. I’m looked down at, frowned upon, a disappointment.

The thing is…this is my life.

I’m the narrator telling the tale, I’m the writer of my own story, I get to edit to see what to keep and what to throw away. Therefore, I should be uncontrollable. Because I’m suppose to be the one in control.

The path I take, my choice. The moves I make, my choice. The things I say, my choice.

I’m sure it’s off putting that I am strong willed, ambitious, open minded, opinionated, vocal, and independent.

I’m sure it’s frustrating that I speak my mind, that I won’t let people walk all over me, that I don’t conform to anybody’s version of normal, and that I’m blunt and up front.

I’m sure it’s intimidating that I don’t follow societies trends, that I’m unique and stand out, that I don’t care what other people think, and that I don’t need people around me to be happy, I choose to have people around me because they make me happy.

So let me tell you something.

I wasn’t put here on this Earth to please anybody. I wasn’t here to sit still and look pretty. I wasn’t here to be a clone of anyone else. I wasn’t here to be invisible and have no one hear my voice.

So why would I spend my life pleasing everyone else? Doing what someone else wants me to do? The only person that I am responsible for making happy is myself.

The second that you realize that, everything changes.