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27 · Jul 22
Day 5
BFG75 Jul 22
Sitting still in noisy silence
Windows open, letting in life.
Attempting to be in the moment,
Clock ticking ‘til I see my wife.

Needing to be held.
Needing to be touched.
Needing to hear that I’m worth so much.
Needing to know this is not all in vain,
To believe I have strength to live through the pain.

Just know that I tried.
Tried to face what’s inside.

I tried to be strong
I tried to breathe
But these crashing waves are overwhelming me.

I can’t stand feeling this way, despite what I try.
I just need some peace.
Please let me die.
A daily journal of my 30-days as an inpatient at the a mental health hospital
25 · Jul 22
Day 7
BFG75 Jul 22
“How are you feeling?”
A ‘check-in’, one word.
Name an emotion you might have heard?
Say something, say anything
Anything at all.
Just try, and try harder, to break down that wall.

I can’t name it, can’t touch it, can’t hear it or see.
It’s everywhere
Yet nowhere
Full and empty.

I yearn to scream and to cry,
Not just inside.
But I can’t let it out,
I’m too terrified.

Of what I don’t know?
It’s part of the fear.

I’ll explode and I’ll shatter with nobody near
To hold me together,
To rock me to sleep,
To comfort and love me,
The hate is too deep.
A daily journal of my 30-days as an inpatient at the a mental health hospital
24 · Jul 22
Day 11
BFG75 Jul 22
No voices, no noise, just me and my thoughts.
The thoughts that I try every day to out run.
They burn me, they cut me, so deep in the night.
You’re not enough.
You’re too much.
You’re nothing.
They’re right.

But I smile in the daylight,
“I’m healing” I say.
I know that I’m trying, every day.

Because people want progress - not truth, not the toll.
Not the ugly storms that swallow me whole.

But I am not brave,
Thoughts stronger than I am.
And tonight in the darkness
I don’t know if I can.
Thrive?
Just survive?
A daily journal of my 30-days as an inpatient at the a mental health hospital
24 · Jul 22
Day 9
BFG75 Jul 22
I opened my mouth and let the silence break.
Words of glass, a silent chime,
A voice I didn’t know was mine.

I told them the truth, or pieces of it.
The parts I could hold without falling apart.
They didn’t turn away,
No judgement.
No shame.
Just hearts open and still.

They held what I gave
And just…stayed.

I don’t yet know what healing means.
I hope that it’s soft,
Will it be slow?
Is it even meant for me?

But something moved.
Not the pain.
Not yet.
Just the knowing I don’t have to hold it alone.
A daily journal of my 30-days as an inpatient at the a mental health hospital
24 · Jul 22
Day 3
BFG75 Jul 22
Feeling sick, feeling frightened, feeling out of control.
Fear letting that parasite out of the hole,
Where it’s bored and it’s buried, and ripped through its host.
Where it hides in the shame, haunting me like a ghost.

It’s all over, shouldn’t matter, was so long ago.
I’m lucky, compared to others, I know.

But I still feel it’s there, infecting my mind,
A slow death of shame, making me blind.

If I open the scars, will I ever repair?
If it all spills out, will anyone care?
Or reject my pathetic, say I shouldn’t be there?
**** it up and move on *****, life isn’t fair.
A daily journal of my 30-days as an inpatient at the a mental health hospital
23 · Jul 22
Day 19
BFG75 Jul 22
So hard to start again not flee.
Instinct to run, to fight, to freeze
Once a response to howls by moon,
A sharpened sense.
A primal tune.

But now it thuds behind my eyes,
A terror wrapped in silent cries.
Where shadows stretch like daunting screams,
dissolving into restless dreams.

I choke on words I never say,
And ache to let the rivers flow.
To scream and sob and simply be,
But still afraid to let it show.

A vicious cycle I now know
Healing starts by breathing slow.
So much practice I must do.
But I’m learning, still, safe and true.
A daily journal of my 30-days as an inpatient at the a mental health hospital
19 · Jul 22
Day 1
BFG75 Jul 22
No glass in the mirror,
No string in the blinds,
Bag searched for things to hurt me,
Observed to be kind.

Be kind to this broken wreck of a shell?
With meds and talking, could I become well?

Don’t give me hope,
It’s further to fall.
I’m not strong, not able
To ever stand tall.

Strangers - who all know unbearable pain,
All hoping to never feel this again.
Or maybe we’re all expecting to fail?
So they’ll all say ‘she tried - but to no avail’

Loved ones can then know,
They did all they could.
That we tried and we cried,
But were misunderstood.
I really don’t want to pass on this pain.
But I’m too tired, too useless,
To fight this again.
A daily journal of my 30-days as an inpatient at a mental health hospital
19 · Sep 22
The wave
BFG75 Sep 22
I stand at the edge where the water begins,
Feel a pull in my chest,
The tide drawing in.
The urge like a whisper,
Like salt on my skin,
It says “Come under, let go, give in.”

My thoughts like the wave crash, tumble and spin,
Each one a stone I carry within.
I try to say “They're just clouds in the sky,”
But they’re swollen with rain,
They’re not passing by.

Grief is an anchor, dragging me deep,
Pain pounds in my chest to a merciless beat.
Sadness clings like a storm-soaked shroud,
And inside me, the shame, silent and proud.

I try to surf it, this wave of despair,
To ride it, to balance, to come up for air.
But it towers above me, too heavy, too fast,
I’m caught in its pull, I’m stuck in its grasp.

I can’t breathe. My chest feels like its caving in.
Is this how it ends, or does something begin?
A part of me pleads “Please make it stop,”
Another still fights to rise to the top.

But somewhere below, in the deepest part,
A flicker remains, a stubborn heart.
It kicks against current, gasps at the sky,
Not ready to go yet, not ready to die.

I want it to end, this insufferable pain,
But I have to suffer, I must try again.
So I’ll try and float now, bruised but alive,
Not surfing clean, but I still survive.
And maybe that’s all I can do for today,
Not ride the wave, but not drift away.

— The End —