May 2020
I don’t worry.
I don’t concern myself with the branch falling.
I don’t hesitate before flight wondering if my wings will flap.
I. Just. Fly.
My thoughts are present-minded,
Where will my next meal come from is not a concern.
I always gather food.
I always have a place to rest.
Abandonment is not an issue.
My friends flutter their wings and sing to me each day.
Loneliness, I do not feel.
Luke 12:24 Consider the ravens: They do not sow or reap, they have no storeroom or barn; yet God feeds them. And how much more valuable you are than birds!
But, to that bird I say, “What if knowing I am more valued than yourself, makes me feel even worse with the current thoughts flapping within my mind?”
Unable to focus just on today because my past mistakes rob me of peace.
Waking up after a few hours of restlessness only to wake up to feelings of despair, hopelessness, betrayal, disdain, fragility.
Fragility.
This one is the most difficult to reckon with. To consider myself, one with years of education, both in the real world and through books, that I could have ended up here.
You, Mr. or Mrs. Bird, have not ripped through relationships, blown up your MasterCard through frivilus spending, or attempted to off yourself by running face first into a window pane.
You have not questioned God for the plight with which you are stricken, or deeply felt loss that brought about a monsoon of tears. For that, I am glad for you.
Your life is not supposed to last as long as mine. Theoretically.
I am supposed to be married, have a home filled with laughter, bake cookies after church on Sunday’s.
I am supposed, now in my forties, to be at my peek existence.
To be in fine health, have a close circle of friends that meet up for drinks or charades.
I am supposed to have a rewarding career, have wisdom for my adult children when they fall, and created a nest egg that will be waiting upon retirement in a few years.
Mr. or Mrs. Bird, I have none of those things.
Having a mental illness has robbed me of those things.
It did not ask my permission to do so.
Kind of just walked inside my home through the front door without knocking. Just showed up. No greetings or introductions.
No deep conversations or a note left detailing how you would affect my life.
You. Just. Showed. Up.
April 30, 2020:
“Today, it is raining. The streets are covered with glistening lights of taxis taking hurried occupants to their destinations.
After work, families will eat a meal together, laugh or cry about an event at work that transpired.
They will tuck their children into bed, say a prayer, then close their eyes in peace.
A belief that tomorrow will be better than today.
An Anne Frank quote about believing there is still good in this world.
To be a bird just for a day.
To trust someone or something will hold you up today.
To know in your heart you can count on yourself to come through. To sing melodies with wild abandon, to flap about in boastful swoons.
To watch the sunrise with hope and the sunset with pride of your accomplishments.
Oh, to be a bird.
I don’t concern myself with the branch falling.
I don’t hesitate before flight wondering if my wings will flap.
I. Just. Fly.
My thoughts are present-minded,
Where will my next meal come from is not a concern.
I always gather food.
I always have a place to rest.
Abandonment is not an issue.
My friends flutter their wings and sing to me each day.
Loneliness, I do not feel.
Luke 12:24 Consider the ravens: They do not sow or reap, they have no storeroom or barn; yet God feeds them. And how much more valuable you are than birds!
But, to that bird I say, “What if knowing I am more valued than yourself, makes me feel even worse with the current thoughts flapping within my mind?”
Unable to focus just on today because my past mistakes rob me of peace.
Waking up after a few hours of restlessness only to wake up to feelings of despair, hopelessness, betrayal, disdain, fragility.
Fragility.
This one is the most difficult to reckon with. To consider myself, one with years of education, both in the real world and through books, that I could have ended up here.
You, Mr. or Mrs. Bird, have not ripped through relationships, blown up your MasterCard through frivilus spending, or attempted to off yourself by running face first into a window pane.
You have not questioned God for the plight with which you are stricken, or deeply felt loss that brought about a monsoon of tears. For that, I am glad for you.
Your life is not supposed to last as long as mine. Theoretically.
I am supposed to be married, have a home filled with laughter, bake cookies after church on Sunday’s.
I am supposed, now in my forties, to be at my peek existence.
To be in fine health, have a close circle of friends that meet up for drinks or charades.
I am supposed to have a rewarding career, have wisdom for my adult children when they fall, and created a nest egg that will be waiting upon retirement in a few years.
Mr. or Mrs. Bird, I have none of those things.
Having a mental illness has robbed me of those things.
It did not ask my permission to do so.
Kind of just walked inside my home through the front door without knocking. Just showed up. No greetings or introductions.
No deep conversations or a note left detailing how you would affect my life.
You. Just. Showed. Up.
April 30, 2020:
“Today, it is raining. The streets are covered with glistening lights of taxis taking hurried occupants to their destinations.
After work, families will eat a meal together, laugh or cry about an event at work that transpired.
They will tuck their children into bed, say a prayer, then close their eyes in peace.
A belief that tomorrow will be better than today.
An Anne Frank quote about believing there is still good in this world.
To be a bird just for a day.
To trust someone or something will hold you up today.
To know in your heart you can count on yourself to come through. To sing melodies with wild abandon, to flap about in boastful swoons.
To watch the sunrise with hope and the sunset with pride of your accomplishments.
Oh, to be a bird.
