I had to take a CPR class last september.
and my instructor told us we learn this
to save lives because everyone has a reason
for living
going around the table he asked us why
we were alive
family
friends
people that anchor us to the world
all the answers you would expect
for someone who was asked why they were still
alive
but when he asked me I told him I didn't have reason
how was I supposed to say that mine is spite?

If it was sunny outside, her eyes didn’t show it. The darkness in them was glazed over leaving every light that touched them turn to a dull void. It was as if her mind was a black hole and the opening in which it was seen was her eyes. None the less, they were beautiful. I had never noticed brown eyes to hold such beauty. I had always grown tired of mine- plain, boring, simple. Brown eyes didn’t have the many shades of blue I often found myself intoxicated with. Those elaborate patterns of greens, whites, gold, and silver hiding behind delicate lashes. Yet hers, they were so intricate. The depth at which they fell, the richness of the chocolate was like breathing for the first time. I guess I hadn’t realized how much I needed that air until I found myself drowning in her eyes. That is how I discovered love for the first time.
            She held my gaze only for a second. I guess it could have been an eternity. Time is a funny thing. It is always here, it is always gone, and it is always coming. In a way, there could be an eternity in a second. In one second life could change. I baby is born, a man has died, a new species is discovered as another goes extinct.  All I know is that in that one second, in that one, single eternity- life was changed for me.  I knew at the exact moment that I would never be the same. I had found the one person that could make my life feel meaning again, and in that moment it was taken away.
             I know that many people would tell me that I am being ridiculous. I know that they will tell me that there are so many other fish in the sea. But you see, I’m not looking for any fish- I’m looking for a clam. All I’m looking for is my simple clam, but there is the secret. When you open up a clam, there is the possibility of a gem. The most shining, pristine pearl could be waiting inside. All you have to do is find it.

  --An attempt at writing romance:
       From my high school years

Small but there--
I can acknowledge it in the least;
A dim glowing of a promise
That something is yet to come
And I feel like Gatsby staring at that green light across the lake
So certain his love is there,
But I know that my light is attainable
If only I should chose to be brave

--Im holding out hope that fear will not stop me from loving again.

There are letters behind my name
not ones earned with prestige and degrees but ones that follow nonetheless
MDD, GAD, BPDII, ADHD, OCD, hEDS
defining traits of my mental
and while they label they don't add any value to my life
in fact they do the opposite
they hinder every moment
every thought
every action
every task it takes a village

---I hate asking for help

I can't be there for you if you push me away
too bad for you though,
I'm quite stubborn with things that I love
You're dating a force to reckon with

I'm on my third group of patients
now the welcoming committee to a place I was once a stranger
I know the walls and schedules,
which nurses work at night,
where the Tech met her husband,
and the due dates for the pregnant staff
I'm on my third group of patients
each one leaving bittersweet
these people know me without judgment
I can talk without fear
and with each discharge--
I feel like I'm losing a piece of myself
I'm on my third group of patients
I'm having to learn to let go
this part is never easy

I dont speak truthfully with my psychiatrist
The fear of mental hospitals keep my lips glued
I know that there should be somebody that I can speak to about anything
But the daunting premonition of being crazy keeps me chained in this cage of mine
These glass walls in my brain are bullet proof
No amount of "how does that make you feel" will ever break through
I want to tell someone everything
How I want to **** myself
How I have multiple ways planned out
But those plans would leave me institutionalized and the fear of that chokes down the words in my throat
I wont do it
I wont commit that taboo
But the fact that I have plans
That I close my eyes driving cars
That I see how long I can last without medication in a hospitalized withdrawal keeps me quiet
I fear to be known by my illness
By my crazy and my unpredictable
I got help once
Medication paired with therapy
And lies fighting back the truth
I wouldn't be here If my impulse control was normal
I wouldn't be here if they knew

I hold these superstitions dear to me
knowing they're nonsense and choosing to ignore that reality
I step cautiously over the cracks in the sidewalk on good days
and on bad ones I stomp on every one hoping you feel the pain that I do
I know you don't deserve it mother, but my feet land on them still
I still throw spilled salt over my shoulder
hoping that maybe this time some luck will come of it
and I avoid walking under ladders if not for safety's reason than for those years of bad luck
Believe me when I say that I know these petty rituals won't affect an invisible force like luck
But I wear my night shirt inside out and backwards thinking that somehow it will cause snow to appear
These superstitions of mine may be childish
It may be downright insane for any sensible young woman to believe in such a thing
But I hold onto this childish hope that maybe
just maybe
If I do enough of these superstitious acts
that my life will finally turn around
and for once I will be lucky....

I always thought that I
was the protagonist of my story,
why then, are you trying
to make it about yourself

A suburb of hell I live in
Across the road from the picture perfect family
Small, yappy little dog who is walked every morning and night by loving husband and father of three
Next door the father who left his family to live with his gay lover downtown
Three young boys and a wife who will never understand
Behind every door is a secret
The Wilsons live a sheltered and abusive life
The man of the family is powerful
The cunninghams across from them are timid and smile to hide the bruises on their arms
Father knows best after all
My door hides the racist, the Republican, the conservative, the homophobic
My door hides the yelling of a bipolar mother off medication
The alcoholism of a child too young to drink
And the silent watch of a father trapped in a loveless marriage
Every house in this suburb of hell tells a story
None of which are happy
Yet you see my neighborhood and call me privilaged
If only you knew.

I want to pack a bag, step outside, and walk
I don’t know where—I don’t have a destination,
Never have
I just want to walk and escape life for a little while
But I can’t do that
I have bills and jobs and people and animals depending on me
I was supposed to know who I was by this point
Instead my soul endlessly wanders without my body’s company
Reaching conclusions with flawed logic
And I know healing is not linear,
But all I’ve ever done is walk forward
and I’m still unsure of where I am and where to go from here

You know those times
at three A.M.
when you walk into the bathroom
look in the mirror
and you don't recognize the face looking back at you?

I asked and you answered
One thing on your bucket list
An act I have since put on mine
Go to a castle
And sit on the throne

They spoke to me today about the possibility of discharge
I don't want to leave
here I feel steady
unjudged
cared for and loved
here, I'm away from the stresses of the outside world
I don't want to go back
the biggest stresses I have here are what coloring page I'm going to do;
what number I can't figure out in my Sudoku, if there's music or animal therapy today outside---
I'm forced to be an adult  
I've been an adult my entire life
I've never gotten to be a child

You told me once that you
were lost and just needed
to feel things out but
your hands had been broken

I dont demand respect a lot
I'm not the kind to hold my position above others for control
But I do demand human decency

And I want to mark you as my territory like how girls mark theirs in Bobby pins on bathroom sinks

I know staying here much longer can affect my progress
but Mania feels the same as getting better and while I'm ready for better,
I'm scared of good
of the fix
that the stitches I've placed will start tearing out again

Sharing my poetry with the world is terrifying
It's like I'm showing a part of myself that I'm still afraid to admit exsists
I dont know what it is about having others read my writing that is both thrilling and absolutely petrifying at the same time

Today and group we talked about super powers
I've always talked about wanting to freeze time but I've never really asked myself why
I think I'm scared of the world moving on without me
that I'm running out of time to make an impact
that I'll be forgotten
I have issues with abandonment
I feel alone

If I could stop time I'd be able to travel,
see the world without the craziness or commotion of everyday life
I think I just want a break
here I was given a break,
someone else to take care of me for a while this place is like stopping time
only the world is going on without me
I don't know if I'm ready to go back

We saw therapy dogs today and it reminded me of the future I want
of animals
and kindness
and an open home on some land
with a koi pond
and gentle sounds of teenagers that aren't mine down the hall
from a library stacked with books
and a cold, long-forgotten tea on the table
I want a future I likely won't see for many reasons
the biggest obstacle is me

It's rejection

And loss

The slow realization that everyone who meets me expects me to change


I find myself alone

Guarded

Knowing that every time I open up to someone

They eventually leave


And in losing everyone else

I'm slowly losing myself



--and my mind

I used to think you had to be worse to go in patient
and then my three days turned to ten
and everyone else had come and gone four times over
and nursing students were assigned to me to be thier case study
I didnt realize they weren't assigned to everyone
I'm in outpatient now
and the social worker is telling me that I was in patient for a long time
this I have had to come and accept
I was a lot worse than I thought

and people wonder how you get to that place
to neglecting yourself to the point of decaying
I can't explain it to you
I wouldn't want anyone to understand
if you do, then you should be here too.

Like a child,
I play pretend
I run and hide from the monsters
unlike a child
I have no one to check under the bed
in the closet
behind the door
I live alone
and find comfort in that
but I cannot be my own caregiver
the difficulties in my wants are oxymoronic what I want and what I need are playing tennis
the ball constantly bouncing back-and-forth face and conquer
or fear and cower
the match has yet to end

-- they are undefeated in their own fields

She was like smoke:
Interesting to look at.
Moving so intricately in her dance,
she entranced all those who watched.
She encapsulated the depth of a soul.
She was the personification of darkness,
and the bringer of light to destroy it.
She flowed so freely like the wind.
Nothing could hold her to this world.
Touching her was useless.
She fell right through any fingers reaching for her.
I remember finding that odd,
as she had touched every heart to
come in contact with her.
I once asked her why she had to go.
her response was a whisper in my ear
and laughter like bells.
I never got a response.
I suppose she had other places to be.
She was always transforming,
changing,
flowing,
running.
She never stayed in one place for long-
always choosing to follow the beauty
that intrigued her,
and never noticing that she, herself,
held that same beauty.
But then again,
She was like smoke.

  --My sister had a friend who died at 16

I dont like confrontation.
In fact I will do almost anything to avoid it if I can
Thats probably what makes me a good manager-- because I'm able to diffuse a situation before it becomes one
That's also probably why I let the trash pile up on the patio for weeks until we recieved an eviction notice
Because I'm scared of confrontation

I'm scared to tell you it hurts me that I've done the dishes the last 3 times because you wont put in a maintenance request to fix the dishwasher but I can't because you want to be here when someone comes.
I'm scared to tell you I hate that I'm the only one who takes out the trash because you ***** and gag if you touch a trash bag
Well I'm gagging too, but it has to be done because we're adults.
I'm always so happy when I come home and find the trash to be gone only to open the pantry and find the bags there. Only to open the balcony door and find the trash there.
Now that I think about it, you always complain that you'll throw up if you do it and I think that's a form of gaslighting.
I'm scared to tell you that instead of buying supplies to make cobbler when we had no food in the house, you should have bought basic materials to eat or god forbid a plunger because your toilets been clogged for 3 weeks and you have to use mine.

I'm scared to tell you I hate your rabbit and the fact that it chewed up 4 of my phone chargers, my echo plug, my laptop cord, vaccum, and is now tearing up my carpet. Oh also the fact that it's YOUR rabbit and I had to buy you hay when you were running low, but you could buy another fish tank we dont have room for.

I'm scared to tell you these habits of yours are bothering me because you're no longer lucid and I think you're slightly addicted---but everytime your boyfriend brings that up you complain.

I'm scared of confrontation. So tonight I made 4 trips to the dumpster at 2am filling my car up with garbage bag after garbage bag because I was embarrassed of how much trash we had and I didn't want the neighbors to hear or see.

I told you I was doing it at that time expecting your help, but instead you told our guest you'd waited all day for me to do it and took a trazodone and fell asleep.

Tomorrow I can already tell I'll have to wear my braces and use my cane.

Tomorrow I'll wake with baggy eyes from a sleepless night of anger of frustration of worry of tears from the fear that comes with the confrontation of the text I sent you asking you to please take out the last of the 3 trash bags by the door.

I'm waiting for the excuses.

The trepidation I've felt has begun to settle somewhere other than my chest
I've been known to be reluctant with change, especially with myself
this change is good but unfamiliar
I can't decipher the medium --that steady baseline people are supposed to have with their emotions
so they are keeping me for observation
like we do with a sick fish at work
my sick is in my mind
it's harder to diagnose--
unseen and masked--
hidden and shameful;
here, I've begun to forgive myself

The groups seems to bring out emotions I'm not fond of facing alone
and these people make me feel safer than my own family
but although the depression is lessening,
its cousin anxiety has settled in somewhere deep in my gut
sending shockwaves to my fingertips
I fidget
I disassociate
I crave desertion
but I've been running
and I've been hiding from the skeletons seeping their way out my closet
bony metatarsals and phalanges fiddiling with the lock
it will rust soon enough
I don't know if I'm ready for the break

Driving to different offices and placing my resume in the hands of possible future employers was exhilarating
I never thought I would be so rash in a decision as I am now
My two weeks notice will sit on your desk tomorrow
leaving you forever wondering what happened

You offered me numerous promotions
A business trip most recently
Your boss incredibly fond of me and progress with the company
Management always came easily to me

But I'm a workaholic when I'm at work
and too often I stayed off the clock, unpaid
so a fellow employee wouldn't have to suffer
all the work that still needed to be done
in all the lack of time we had

This is my parting gift
This piece of paper
A symbol to you that my life has outgrown this place
that I know has taken more from me than it's given

I wish you well
that you will find a worker who is passionate about
this company the way I once was

In two weeks I will be gone
I will move on with my life

This is my parting gift

They told you
you had changed since you met me
of course I believe that to be true too
I've changed since I met you too
But of course over two years you would be different
who wouldn't be?
change of school, jobs, life plans
the only constant here was me
so fingers were pointed at the only thing that stayed the same about you
and I had no say at all

I hope one day your lips will curl around your meager breakfast of coffee and cigarettes and acknowledge that despite what they've told you, you are not hard to love.

It stays, it stays, it stays this way--
Close in the dark; words huddling and wrapped in the eager cavity of your chest
Using ribs as lap bars hoping to keep this feeling there---
Trapped until it heals you
Too long has past since your heart felt love like this
And you fear if it leaves the ride prematurely, it will be to afraid to try again

--Your heartbeats are sounding over the roaring in your ears that this could fall apart again

I have always had a fondness for
Tattoos
My mother always hated them
I never understood how my mother,
A lover and pursuer of the arts,
Could dislike them
How such beauty
Could be wrong

If in fifty years I regret my tattoos
I will at least never regret my life
I will never regret wondering what it could
have been like not to worry about how I
was perceived by others
I will never regret focusing my image on my peers
I will love my tattoos in their wholeness
I will love them because they made me free

  --There’s something powerful about reclaiming your body

A dusty grey gritty feeling has always been in my lungs from choking back words and impulse I'd be admonished for breathing

It took years of practice to craft the smog into a milky then translucent expected response: appropriate ---Instead of one lacking tact

But with you
I falter

I fought with you the other night
the tears on my face trying desperately to wash
away the demeaning words you threw at me
an embarrassment to you
a *** who will never be anything more
I have to keep telling myself that this is gas lighting
this is abuse
this is you making yourself feel better
because I have to believe that I am so much
more than you limit me to be
after all
if I can't believe in myself
who could?

Its here again tonight like a cinder brick on my chest
In this grave I call a bed I'll surely die from no rest
The air is too thick milkshake through a narrow straw
And no matter how I gasp air will not provide my lungs
with what they need to survive

And I'm sweating and I'm turning
Well at least I am in my mind because I'm stuck in too warm sheets and the heat they trap inside
I can hear my heart beat like a bomb counting to my doom
And it keeps on beating faster and I dont know what to do

--Lately I can't sleep with the thought that I will die

I cut my finger on a can opener last night and now I'm constantly reminded of how sensitive I am

I wish my heart was calloused so I wouldn't ache everytime another meaningless occurrence reminds me of you
But hearts are not hard
They cant become calloused
And even though they are surrounded by bone, ribs are meant to be flexible

This finger will heal
It will scar and callouse with repeated use
My heart instead grows only softer and weaker with time
I dont know how much abuse it can take.

I feel heavy in my chest--
an anxious weight of the knowledge that it's about to be bad again;
I can feel it getting bad again

and the trigger might have been you or it could have been this impending sense of  doom I cannot seem to shake--
but it's going to be bad again

I can almost grab it--
fingers desperately trying to pull a dumbell off my lungs
my arms are too weak
and the bell is too slick
and I can't seem to grasp it quite yet but it's there;
sitting,
heavy,
holding me down while the sword of damocles is hanging above my throat--
I can see it's getting bad again

but I cannot move,
and the sun is setting quick--
the darkness almost comforting as a distraction from the cool steel of the blade taunting me--
I cannot seem to watch as the sword begins to drop

it's getting bad again,
I can feel it--
see it in the ways the world's colors tinge a subtle sepia,
hear it in the ways my favorite songs don't sound as they should,
taste it in how foods are turning repulsive to my mouth--nauseous and burning,
smell it in the smoke I use to drown out the constant ringing of alarm bells,

trust me when I say:
I'm not prepared for the worst--and well,
it's getting bad again

I have loved my name and I have hated it
Hidden it; buried it; burned it
Threw it back to my parents—I did not want it
I let it fly from my lips only as a toxic poison.
Do not call me it.
A nickname then name change and I renounced what identified me my entire life
Sick of the jokes how I was so ungraceful for someone who carried that title
Sick of the smiles from strangers telling me they always wanted a daughter with my name
Sick of the expectations a name like Grace held
As I renounced my faith
Renounced my upbringing
I renounced the name that kept me tied to a life I never wanted

But I have loved my name
In its fullest, truest meaning of the term
Love to the unlovely; peace to the restless;
Love that cares and stoops and rescues
A name with such a force to live up to
I realize even when running from and hating myself,
I loved so deeply for others that I began to learn to love myself again
And maybe expectations are frightening and thrilling all the same

--I’m trying to live up to my name

I say I'm over you
tell others that I don't want you back and wouldn't come back even if you asked nicely
my sister told me I move on quickly and excuses tumbled out of my mouth before my brain registers that they've fallen
you see these dates I've been on have been meaningless
a useless endeavor, really in an attempt to fill this emptiness you left me with
I dreamt of you again last night and when I woke punished myself by staring at pictures of you until my eyes were raw
I haven't deleted any of them
The vision of you in my dream told me you were in love
told me you found that person who makes your heart do trills like cats purrs
I remember waking with tears
Every **** time I think I'm over you, I look to the gorge you've left in me
Reminders all around my room
The tickets we bought for a date but never used still untouched in the middle console in my car
They don't have an expiration date

I’m scared
And I hate to say that about myself
Because I have lived in a sense of false security for so long
Reliant on others because I can’t be reliant on myself
And I’ve developed this system of ignore, persist, and repeat
And I think its slowly draining me

There are moments when I can forget that my life is the way that it is
Self-medicating to prevent the anxiety from creeping up into my throat
Turning off the big light to blind myself from all the ugly pieces of me that I am ashamed of seeing
It is my instinct to believe that something is wrong with me

And I’ve never been good at being alone
Though I crave it all the same
When I am alone I can breathe in the darkness
Veiled by the idea that running away will one day have to stop

But I still find my legs striving towards to finish line
Try as I might take my time to get there
The idea of just completing the race urging myself forward
A success where I have never had any before

I am trying
And I am healing
And I know that it is not linear
I know I have many more obstacles ahead of me
But I think the want may finally outweigh the hatred and shame

You reminded me of a time when everything wasnt so balanced
When a step this way or that would throw my entire life out of line
And it forces me to realize I'm walking on a cliff without a steady handrail
A rusted culmination of metal and paint flakes the only life vest before I'm taken over by these waves that threaten to drag me under
You remind me that life is unpredictable
That happiness is not constant
That effort must be continuous for a payoff
I can't float in a sea forever without drowning
I cant stand at a cliff edge letting my eyes guide me instead of my feet and trust that the wind wont push me over the edge
You remind me that right now will change
And I'm still not sure how to feel about that

I fell last week.
Hard and fast
Abruptly
My foot slipped out from under me in a way I know my ankle will never be the same thirty years from now
Strange how a human can endure intense operations and fully recover
But an ankle will never be the same if it's twisted once
I guess I'm similar that way

There is a first aid kit in my bathroom
Menagerie of cotton, disinfectant, plasters
Reaching for it I click the lid open and stare
Push aside some boxes never opened never needed
Push aside wrappers long since needing a trash can
And as I rummage I become frantic
        Not here!
           Not here!
            Where is it?
         Not here!
It seems this first aid kit cannot do much for my mental
It cannot do much for broken heart
It cannot do much for a frantic night of disallusions
But it can keep my paper cut covered and protected from unexpected assaults from overuse of hand sanitizer
And that will have to do...

She sang to me in a strange language
One that I had tried and failed so many times to learn
Self care is foreign to me

I met a girl named Megan
She was my best friend
Placed herself into my life and was unapologetic in everything she did
I admired her for that until I didn't

She lives in a one bedroom with my ex boyfriend
I have to go to work hearing him talk about the cats that once were mine that he now calls his
Those nights at 3am when I woke up with the bed empty next to me and finding him with you in the living room make sense
I was never the one people really wanted

I'm still recovering financially from what you did to me
I'll be recovering mentally for much longer
I'm realizing I don't have a best friend
I don't think I ever did

I used to miss you
I used to reach for my phone to call you and tell you about the miniscule events of my day
I used to bring you up in every conversation
Now I wish I could forget

He brings you around
And I'm not bitter at him anymore
I think I always knew we wouldn't work out
But I'm bitter towards you, no matter how much I try to forgive myself for what happened
Your name is taboo
A curse
A forbidden word that causes me to spiral down into painic attacks

I always knew that meeting you would change my life
I now wish I never did
I hope you're happy with this
I'll be having nightmares filled with you again

The funny thing about most toxins
Is that you can have them in small amounts without any consequence
It's only when
You sit in it long enough,
Injest it so many times--
That you get sick