My kindness is simply my atonement for my shame.

My goodness only exists to hide my selfishness.

You aren’t your thoughts, I know,

But why do I feel them inside of me?

Why are they crawling,

Dragging through my veins and leaving jagged marks?

Why are they nestling into the cracks of my bones?

I am not good,

But my love is real.

It may not be pure,

It may not be beautiful,

But if you’d let me,

I would rip my own heart from its strings to let you see it.

They would stretch until they were snapped stiff,

ringing out like the threads of a harp.

I’d bare myself to you in all that I am, and all that I am not.

And if knowledge is power,

If ignorance is bliss,

I’ll sink my fingers into my skull,

I’ll dig out my brain and fall to the floor,

I’ll offer it to you, and watch with lulled eyes as you hold it gently to your lips.

Yet I am terrified.

I am terrified that a little girl is watching me,

Silent,

Bearing witness to the monster in her skin.

"what we don't need in the midst of struggle
is shame for being human"
I have learned to keep my feelings
to myself
I have been taught that
my struggles are shameful
or attention seeking
but that is not the case
being shamed made me feel
like my emotions weren't valid
or that it wasn't something
that should be talked about
but that is not something
to be taught to children
cuz emotions are valid
feelings and coping skills
are valid
but you can't grow and heal
if you won't allow yourself
to express how you feel
you'll just struggle more
is you ignore those feelings
it is not shameful
to feel what you feel
the people who made you
feel that way
should be shamed
for hindering you from healing

I find self in argument
With sons
Over money, over crypto
Which is a mysterious coin
Being chased by new generations

I am belittled
When giving advise on
Intangible wealth of this century
That my experience is seen as useless,
Described by them to me,
"My Boomer generation knows Nothing"

Told to feel unworthy as an argument builds
Put down as a mother as
My brain pain of their reckless youth
I had to pay attention to
As if the reciept of my womb
Was a wasted placenta
All because of a bit of coin searching for wealth

The riches these young men of mine
Will likely not find from the
Depth of their families legacy
Who will be written off in their own time
Is in their grandfather's wartime draft card, tied to the most important person
Asking,
"Name of Person Who Will Always Know Your Address",
Let that sink in.
"Relationship  of This Person" , "Mother"

I am that memory
you try to leave behind
I am what you almost forget
I rewind my eye
and stare back
I am that blink you can’t bare
and regret

I am not sure why I did it,
Well that's what I'm going to say
Once I get caught with it.

Because we all know it'll happen.
I know why I stole the thing,
It's not very simple to explain:

The memories wouldn't stop,
I wanted some control over my life,
The urge needed to be fulfilled,

But the general, easy explanation:
I wanted to do it,
I have waited so long.

It's not like me to steal,
At least that's what they think.
I've thought about this for so long.

I contemplate doing many things:
So many horrible things,
Things I'd rather die than do.

I want to scream and cry,
Throw things, flip tables,
Show them how I really feel.

But I don't,
I keep up my reputation,
Smile through all of it.

I don't let anyone know,
If they knew half of it,
I would have no one.

The funny part about this
Is that I don't regret it at all,
I know I should.

I don't regret it,
Relief instantly washed over me,
Like the sick being I am.

Imagine

Having an illness that impacts every facet of your life.

It’s there when you wake up, and when you go to sleep,

An illness that impacts all of your organs.

That ravages your personality and sense of self.

That destroys relationships, careers, and engagement in life...

And nobody supports you.

-

You are ridiculed, blamed. Told that you are stupid, need to snap out of it.

Others gossip about how you’ve been looking and acting.

You become bathed in shame so suffocating, it nearly drowns you.

Treatment is a long, arduous battle that many face on their own. Many are forced to keep up with work or school because this isn’t seen as a “real” illness. But you are essentially fighting yourself through the process. In fact, many can't even afford proper treatment.

If you don’t recover, the shame persists. You believe you’re defective and failed treatment, that it’s all your fault.

If you recover, nobody rings a bell. Few congratulate you or say much at all. Many who recover hit burn out, and are then questioned as to why they are burnt out.

The shame never escapes you.

I hope one day
Individuals with mental illness
Will be able to celebrate wins and have others support them in their low points
As if it is a completely normal and expected reaction.

Please support those near and dear
They are fighting a battle most would fear.

You look better when I close my eyes.
Because I’m a horrible person
a horrible person who still thinks of her when I’m with you.
Yet again, when I’m with her, who I was gets lost.
because honestly, I was broken
—She broke me—
I am broken, but you’ve seen me as whole.