Just Love Her

Just love her...

She will open your world.  She will help you see things in a whole new way.  She will make you laugh at the most inopportune times.              

Just love her...

She will strip you naked and kiss every inch of your skin.  She will make you feel new feels.  She will look at you and you will just know, you are hers.

Just love her...

She will open a universe of stars for you to see.  She will make you think.  She will frustrate the hell out of you.  She will challenge you.

Just love her...

She will watch you sleep.  She will inhale your breath.  She will wake you at 3 am just because she craves your taste.    

Just love her...

She will make you feel as if you are the only person she sees.  She will smile a smile that is only for you.  She will only hear your voice.

Just love her...

She will give you a bond that is stronger than for better or worse.  She will care for your hurts.  She will understand your sorrow.

Just love her...

She will let you feel her from the inside.  She will bring you to new heights.  She will look at you as if you were the only person see has ever seen.

Just love her...

She will love you.

Night Ramblings

It is my most favorite time of the day.

Night

I surround myself in darkness and turn off all the noise (except for my laptop of course).  I can hear the wind in the trees and the soft chirp of the crickets or frogs or whatever it is.

Night

It has always given me comfort.

As a small child I would stay up to all hours to listen to the sound of night.  To coat myself with the darkness, I almost always felt invisible.

I was never ever afraid of the dark.  I would welcome it.

Sometimes I wander outside to look at the stars and greet the moon.  I would wait to see of I could find a shooting star.  I sometimes talk the dark trying to sort out my thoughts and feelings.

My mom would often tell stories of my little feet on the floor at all hours of the night.  I would go from one window to the other trying to see what the night had offered.  

As a teenager I would drive to the big lake and watch the night over the water.  The moonlight would dance across the soft waves, giving me comfort.

Night

When the storms came at night, I would sit on our front porch with my mom.  The air just before the storm would almost be electric.  We would sit in silence and watch the lightening and hear the thunder.  It could be almost as late as 3 am but it didn't matter.

I guess night was always my most favorite part of the day.

Mark of Courage

A few weeks ago I have one scary moment of irrational thinking.  I was battling my depression and it damn near won.

Suicidal thoughts filled my head and I found myself in the bathroom looking for something to cut myself.

I wrote about that episode here:  The Face of Depression

I was hurting so very much and just was losing the strength to fight it.  I sent messages to those I love telling them that I loved them.  I was ready to give up.

For years I have battled the depression.  I've sought help.  I take medication.  I try to find my zen.  There was just a moment where I was just ready to let go of all that pain.

But I didn't.

The incident still lingers in the background.  I think about just how close I came to ending it.

I sought out something to remind me that I can't give up.  I looked for something to put in place that would stop me from harming myself again.

All it takes is one brief moment to commit suicide.

I started looking at tattoos.  I wanted to place it in a spot where I would see it and remember that my story isn't over.

I found a tattoo idea that I was drawn to.  A butterfly in blue, something that started off not so pretty but continued to live to bloom into something beautiful.

The semicolon body is to remind me that my story is not over.  An author uses a semicolon to not end a sentence but to continue on.

If you want to read about it, click here:  Project Semicolon

I have the tattoo placed on my left forearm, just above my wrist.  It is big enough to catch my attention at any time.  

Is is a reminder that I too will continue to bloom into something beautiful and that my story is never over.

I am the butterfly.

Like an Emotional Freight Train

It's coming again.

I can feel it.

Just of to the side and just out of view.

An emotional freight train.........

It has been a few weeks since my episode of unclear thinking.

I've made some effort to recognize the signs of the oncoming freight train of irrational thoughts.  There is always a threat of irrational thoughts with me.  It is just how I am.

I've built up a support system of friends and I won't be afraid to reach out if I need to.  I don't ever want to get that close to the edge again.

Sometimes I wonder how anyone could ever love me for how I am.

I mean, it isn't that I am a horrible person.  I don't pull wings off of flies to watch them suffer or anything.

I mean I do have these episodes of where I am not completely myself.

It is weird.

The thoughts are coming again.

Today I found myself staring in the mirror.  I felt hatred.  

I hate how I look.  That face staring back at me wasn't what I was used to seeing.

I don't know.

It is hard to explain the struggle sometimes.  It isn't a black and white type of thing.

I was thinking of past episodes from years ago when I used to self harm.  I never cut myself or anything like that.  It was different.  I really don't want to share it.  

It is strange to say that (type it) since I share just about everything here.

I am glad that I don't do it anymore though.

Today was just an angry day.

Angry with myself for just failing at things.  This in turn caused the emotional freight train to depart brain station.

I am going on another ride soon.

Obviously....

She loves you, ya know.

Can't you feel it when she kisses you?

She will never tell you though.

Can you see it in her eyes when she looks at you?

She will never share it with you.

Can you feel her heart beating faster when you take her in your arms?

She can never let her feelings slip out.

She sometimes watches you sleep, breathing your breath.  She lays on your chest just willing you to understand.

She shares your laughter.

She frees her time.

She loves you, ya know.

She keeps it to herself.

She was hurt once...

Badly...

She sometimes wishes she could tell you.  That part she keeps hidden.  

She treasures your smile, the one you show her.  She listens to your voice, it calms her.  She looks at your hands as they hold hers.

The taste of you, the smell of you, the sight of you....

Feels like home.

She loves you, ya know.

Obviously 

But she will never tell you.

Aftermath

It has been a few days since I had my horrible episode of depression.  I wrote about it here: The Face of Depression

Since writing that entry, I have received several messages from people I didn't expect.  It was nice to hear that I am not alone and that I am truly cared for.  

I didn't write it for attention or for any sincere comments.  I wrote it for others to understand that they do not suffer alone.  I wrote it for those who thought what they were feeling was unusual or weird.  I also wrote it for those who do not understand what it is like to suffer with depression.

I received a call from someone close to me.  They thought that I shouldn't have written it and/or shared it with anyone.  

This was upsetting.

It took some courage to express what I was feeling.  It also helped me out of the black hole.

If what I write saves one person from jumping off the cliff, then I think that it was the right thing to do.

I am feeling a little better as of this writing.  It takes time to heal.

I did call my doctor.  These feelings of self harm have been strong.  We have come to the conclusion that because of being taken off my birth control, it has caused some serious hormonal imbalances.  

The last episode of insanity happened about this same time last month.

No joke.

I damn near lost someone who means the world to me just because my brain decided to malfunction and my voice of reason took a vacation.

I didn't write about it.  I didn't talk about it.  But it happened.  

I am thankful for their understanding and forgiveness.  A true friend is a very valuable treasure.

My doctor and I have decided to monitor my imbalance with no change in medication.  If we don't allow the hormones to find a way to chill on their own, we may need to address it again.

For now, I have a support system in place.  My system includes carrying the suicide hotline number with me at all times.

For now, I have survived another battle but still continue to fight the war.

Suicide Prevention Hotline

800-273-8255

The Face of Depression

My face is the face of depression.

Tonight it is at an all time maximum.  I don't know how to ask for help.  I do not know how to control it.

It consumes me.

Just when I think I'll be ok, I have sunk even lower before.

I stood in the bathroom for some time trying so hard to compose myself.  I was fighting the urge to cut my wrists.  I caught the pill bottle out of the corner of my eye, held it in my hand for a moment.  I opened the lid and dumped the contents in my hand.  The pills felt like pebbles as I stood there crying.  For one brief moment I considered popping them in my mouth but I dropped them into the toilet and flushed.

I cried harder.

How do I ask for help?  At this hour?  Who do I call?  Where do I turn?

I feel so alone in this.

I came back to bed and decided to write.  Writing seems to help.  I hesitated because I am sure there will be someone out there reading this who will think that this is all for attention.  

If it is you, you can kiss my ass.

My face is a face of depression.  There are many more like mine out there.  

We are not alone.  There are millions of faces just like mine.

We can be good liars.  We will tell you we are ok when we are breaking inside.  We will tell you we are fine when we are certainly not.  We will smile, joke, laugh; hell, some of us are downright funny.  But we are dying inside.

We mostly suffer in silence.

We believe that we are unlovable.  We believe we are overweight, ugly and damned.  We believe that we aren't worthy of being happy.  We believe that we will be rejected by anyone we reach out to.

Why would someone love us, we are just a hideous mess?

Depression isn't something we can just "get over".  We just can't take a walk or soak up some sun.  It doesn't work that way.

It is so difficult to explain how depression feels.  It is way more complicated that just being sad.  It is more than just crying.  It is more than just feeling empty and numb.

Depression is a liar.  I know this and I am sure that others like me know it as well.  Sometimes the lies become our believable truth.

Tonight was a small victory, the pills were flushed.  There are many others out there who lost their battle.  It saddens me that we do suffer alone when there are so many of us.

My face is a face of depression.

Above photo was taken right after I flushed the pills.

Suicide Prevention Hotline

800-273-8255