***Mirabel Tiara found on internet***
One of the hardest things that I had forgotten about depression are the ups and downs. How one day I can feel great. I have energy to burn. I want to accomplish things. So I dive right in. Cleaning, organizing, exercising you name it. And I fly.
Than come the down days. Where I am lethargic. I have no desire to move. Eating is difficult. I stare at the t.v. or my phone or write in brief spurts, all so I do not have to think. And the tears. They keep coming. I feel nothing. It is easier that way. Because otherwise, all the pain and emotions that are swirling around inside of me needs to break free, and I can only handle so much.
I have been writing a lot. Little bits and pieces as I make realizations. As I begin to honestly look at my past and can see the consequences of my actions. And the actions of others. After I do something like that, I am exhausted. My poetry comes and goes. Part of me worries that as I am writing about the same thing over and over again, that it is going to sound the same. So I am struggling there. This blog, is the first one that I have written about my depression since Dec. 28th.
When I say I am exhausted, people look at me like what do you mean? How can you be exhausted? You are home all day, doing nothing more tiring than reading/writing/watching t.v., like seriously. Yes seriously, I am the Queen of pushing it all aside. Thrust it deep down inside of me and if I cover it up for long enough, eventually I will forget about it. Yet I do not. It festers within me, eating away at my confidence, my self-worth, my life. Than I begin to look for outlets to avoid dealing with the pain, hence the drinking and drugs. (As an aside, I have found giving up alcohol to be far easier than the pills.)
Now, I am reflecting. Not every hour of every day, but I do. I do not pick the topic, my voice starts talking and I listen. Write. Cry.
There are things that I have not looked at for years. The abuse by my dad. How it was dealt with. That right there is going to be a topic and a half. I do not want to spend a lot of time discussing this aspect because I am bringing that asshole back to life. I do not want to give him that luxury. I will though, as this is going to be the only way that I am ever going to be able to find peace with myself. To be able to let it fade into my past where it belongs. Rather than leaving it to poison me over and over again. Despite my beliefs, I envision my father standing on a tiny rock in the middle of a lave pit and it slowly, excruciatingly rises until he is covered. And throughout the whole thing he can feel the burning of the lava as it sears the bone from his flesh. Repeat. I hate that man so much and yet I love him because he is my dad.
The loss of my daughter when I was 21. Never ever dealt with it besides getting drunk every year on her birthday. So I did not have to deal with the pain. (Are you sensing a theme with me?)
The beginning of my addiction. With this one, I have so much to figure out.
My life in general. Obviously I need to make changes. Positive ones that reflect the direction I want to move in. This means examining every corner of myself and trimming away what no longer works and adding those things that do.
I am angry. I am sad. I can be happy for a time. What I no longer am is the Queen of Denial. (Remember also Queen of Deflection…..I give myself a lot of tiaras)
As painful and hard as this is going to be, I am in it to become better. To learn how to cope healthily when I become depressed/overwhelmed/stressed. I am not naive enough to believe that after this I will never be depressed again for that is not the nature of this disease. However, I will be better prepared and more able to help myself. I will become stronger, braver and more alive. I am going to trade in the denial tiara to become Queen of Acceptance. 🙂
This rusted iron cage
the only home I have known
only cold disregard
of my lying ways.
Logic has no need here
hold control and even though
those voices whisper contempt
I ignore it all.
Edges softened to crimson
shadows bleed through
and the horror of my truth
burns brightly in this darkness.
I spin around
copper strands wrapping
and I reach above
until I reach the edge
and pull myself forward.
I slip between the bars
and take a step back
suddenly it is at my feet
a small rusted cage
no bigger than my heart.