i hydroplaned into a head on collision
how did i lose control?
i'm just a passenger
in a vehicle with a mind of its own
time may heal the damage
but never the memory
fate chose my destination
i just wanted to go home.

-S.L.

To my psychiatrist: I sit seated on one of the four chairs in the room…

I want to read you this, because every time I come in here, I can’t describe my dilemma, I feed you thoughts and words and all of it gets messy… so if you can listen to this for two minutes, maybe you can tell me what I need

I find that people enjoy me more when I’m outgoing, the life of the party, and a breath of fresh air
However who I really am is quiet, shy, a girl that pushes herself to go out, and awkwardly makes conversation in order to feel normal

I’ve had this inner challenge of wanting to be happy- however I won’t use the word happy here because I was never truly happy

It’s as though a band aid covered my scars and temporarily blind folded my memories

When your medication suppresses your words… all inner feelings of what we truly feel and what we truly believe in. It’s the medication, the therapy; the faking a smile around a group that I feel never truly gets it

It’s a cardboard box that on Christmas appears special, but every other day of the year isn’t much to look at

It’s the pretending that the action movie the love of your life is interested in, is any bit exciting to you

It’s wanting to be loved but finding that the only times you’ve ever found love are the times you weren’t you

The times that a guitar on it’s stand appears “nice” from far away, but when a brilliant musician comes by it brings it all to life

The book that on a shelf, dusty and not worth any bit of looking at is pages filled with letters. But when read by someone who appreciates it enters a different world, one of his or her own to make that book worth reading

Am I that book?
Only worth understanding if the story means anything to the person reading

I feel as though often times I’m that guitar
Only brought to life when someone strums by chords

Am I that cardboard box?
Only felt special dressed up and looked at on holidays
So what does it take to feel special on your own?

What does it take to be a dusty book and be content, a guitar that sits without someone to play it, and a box to be important sitting in an attic on its own

The medications, the therapy, the pushing yourself to get out, it provides temporary relief.

Yesterday driving home at 9:36 pm, my windows were blurred and I couldn’t see much

Heavy storms were rolling in, and words of a tornado were discussed
I thought about how easy it would be to drive into a medium
“911 we have an emergency… young girl, unconscious, car totaled, in what appears to be a hydroplaned accident"

A perfect escape, no one can be upset with you, it didn’t look like suicide, it was an accident, how could anyone be upset…it was nature, it was “meant to be”

But I didn’t

I want to learn how to live and find those small moments where everything is in place

I can’t explain to a happy person what it feels to never feel anything
I don’t want happy
I don’t want sad
I want both
But this …whatever it is isn’t either

Is it I?
Is it how I’m wired?
Am I the problem or am I making my own problems?

And every psychologist, professional, doctor, & psychiatrist will tell you
“It’s a mix of both…a combination”

Because every educated person in mental health often understands that nothing is often linked to one variable but often two, or three, or more. Given that life is not a controlled environment. One can never fully pinpoint the problem. So it is also impossible to pinpoint the solution?

Yet still I don’t know anything anymore, lost control, not completely yet
Because the 911 call was never made

Yet not recognizing yourself in the mirror any longer is one of the scariest feelings I believe I’ve ever had
Because it’s one thing to be alone, and it’s another to not even have you anymore

We can label this as depression, but I don’t want to fake who I am any longer… I need to know, should I be me…will that ultimately lead me to happiness

Or do I change who I am… in order to fit standards and not live miserably
To not hear, “You’re too emotional, cut yourself a break”,

But not changing who I am is slowly killing me; they say it gets harder before it gets easier. Yet they also tell you to reflect and perhaps change things up if you aren’t happy

I just need to know what path is better

Because - and I think- my hearts telling me to stay who I am, and my brains telling me get help…and if my brain is the one that is supposedly broken …how do I know which one to listen to?

Because even if my brain is the unhealthy part, my heart has taken a few too many bullets as well

And if only any of them knew, if I knew the right answer I would do what needs to be done








And after reading this several times, I feel guilty that I spent two hours sculpting a poem completely about myself.

So from an outside point of view….what do I do?

thunder*
I always thought we'd be together
You and I, we said forever..
In the rain I am standing
Why am I here?
This is bad planning
I see light flicker through a crack in the curtains
The curtains I bought for you when you first moved into to your place
I practiced every word I’m going to say to you
I’ve covered every trace
I'm at your door step
Too afraid to knock
My hearts sinks like a stone in my stomach
Feels like I swallowed a rock
I blink rain and tears from my eyes
I’m happy the storms raging so it muffled my delicate cries
I walked all the way here
Yeah, I still go on walks
My hair is soaked, cooling my fresh and steaming thoughts
Everything is pounding, I’m hoping this ends like a book
Cold and shaking
How dramatic do I look?
The thought of this makes me laugh
Someone walks by the door
I think you heard me
I want to run and hide, I don’t have confidence anymore
But this is my chance, it will all be okay
The front door opens and I have nothing to say

It's your three year old daughter
I hear a woman say *Lilah, close the door honey.
Oh, no.
She's beautiful
She has your eyes
Your lips
Your hair
Your giggle..
But not all of her is just like you
She has hints of her mother in her too
Her mother..
The luckiest woman alive.
Help
I'm frozen
Run, ******* it, run!
But I cant
I hear her high heels coming toward the door
Lilah, who are you looking at?
There's no one there
Her mother cant see me
There's no more rain
It's a hot summer night
But my clothes are still dripping
There's blood on my shirt around where the branch impaled me
Glass is embedded into my hands
Lilah is still looking up at me, smiling
She's beautiful
You join your wife at the door
Your eyes full of happiness
Your lips would no longer shape to mine
Your hair is short and you've been weathered by time
I always loved your beard
You grab your daughter's hand and pull her inside
I on my knees crying now, because she should have been mine
You should be mine
**** being mortal and **** time
The day I died was the day you proposed
You got on one knee, the ring tied to a thorn'd rose
Thorn'd roses are my favorite
They show how something so delicate will go to great lengths to protect itself
Just like my heart..
It was a rainy day
The roads were slick
You leaned over and kissed me while you were driving
We hydroplaned
I didn't put on my seat-belt
Too busy looking at my gorgeous ring from my gorgeous man
We hit a tree
I was launched through the windshield
The branch went straight through me
I didn't feel any pain
The last words I spoke were your name
I loved you.
Oh, God how loved you
I still love you, even in death
I'm at your door step
But you cant see me..

A Story of Scientology and the
Mental Health System Connection

THE CAUSEWAY

By the time I got to Tampa Florida I was so weary that I was stumbling off my feet. I hadn't had any proper sleep in 4 days. My bones felt as if they had eaten a cancer. I can't remember sitting and waiting for motor pool to pick me up from the bus station. I must have been sleeping on my bags. Not that there were that many of them. I had very little clothing or toiletries. In fact I believe all that I owned was in one tiny suitcase and a carry-on duffle.

I don't remember the name of the man who picked me up that day. We'll just call him Noah. And the white van that traversed the Courtney Campbell Causeway carrying State Road 60 from Tampa to Clearwater? We'll just call that The Ark. Because we were about to meet a *deluge...

The first part of the trip I was nervous. It was raining and extremely windy. I remember asking Noah if we could wait for the storm to pass. He told me that he was under orders to get me to the Fort Harrison within a certain time frame. He would meet those orders come hell or high water. He didn't actually say that but that is what he meant. And that, my friends, is what we got!

The first part of the causeway appeared to be wide. It had palm trees on either side and some greenery. But at a certain point all it was was some roadway perched upon pylons. The engineers had started construction of the causeway in 1927. It was a total of 52,165' long. And, brother, I was feeling EVERY INCH!!!

The wind was blowing so hard that the rain was almost at a horizontal slant. The waves worse. They were spilling over the roadway and frothing. There was no one on the road of course. Nobody else would have been crazy enough to go out in that storm over that Causeway. But Noah had his orders, by God. And he was going to carry them out. That's how brainwashed and insane some scientologists are. Especially in the Sea Organization. Failure to follow "Command Intention" could be seen as grounds for the RPF. More on that horror later.

Well. I remembered Elsie. How she said the Lord Jesus Christ answered prayer. She'd told me that if you confessed your sins with a pure & contrite heart and asked anything of him, he would grant them. That's just what I did. I recall closing my eyes and talking to a man. I didn't know Him. But I told him I was sorry. And if he'd just get us to our destination safely I promised I'd try to be a better person...

Noah was terrified. I can still see his face locked in a rictus of fear. But now I felt strangely calm. Even when we hydroplaned over the asphalt I wasn't afraid. Finally we arrived at the end of that terrifying strip of water and wind. I don't recall exactly. But I believe Noah stopped the van and wept. For the first time in my life I thanked God. I recognized the event for what it was... A PURE MIRACLE.

*AND I WILL ALWAYS REMEMBER IT AS SUCH.

i went for a drive today
the rain pitter-patterned as rubber
tires hydroplaned across the concrete and i
pressed play and sang to the mix tape

i couldn't see the moon or the stars or
you. i couldn't see more than 20 ft. in any
given direction. i listened to the cadence
as thunder crashed and thrashed H2O
across my dashboard

and for a moment there the whole
world froze, a hundred million raindrops
posed in suspension and i wondered if
this might be the way that i die—out too late
on a Wednesday night drive—and i thought
if i crashed and burned if the rain would douse
my charred corpse in time to leave a body
for them to put in the ground. would you
fly non-stop to Orlando just to see me lowered
down? what is the dollar
amount that's just too much? could i even say
i'd do the same for you?

then time resumed and rick-rocked me back
to reality and i felt a grim smile tug
me away from the brink as i passed an abandoned
church flooded out in the boonies. lightning flashed
above a lake in the distance and i realized i'd spent
almost 3 years god-free. so why was i
so worried about you?

have i been pulled apart in a 1,000 different directions
criss-crossed like stretch marks
a demon's clawed across my stomach?
i try every day to meet the eyes of
the man in the rear-view mirror but
i can't even remember their color anymore

two more months, and it will be a year since you left.
and
i still have so many questions...

how come all i can write about is you
how come when it's late at night
and the dishes are *****
all i can think about is ball room dancing in the kitchen with you
and you laughing because i can't dance
for the life of me
and how come i still think of you ******* me against that cheap chinese made sink that always leaks
especially
in the heat of that one summer  
with
your mom
in the other room
and how we tried to stay quiet
but
ended up breaking into fits of obnoxious laughter

i always did love your one dimple
and how it always came out at the worst possible times

but ******* and **** your family
and **** all the lions in Africa
i don't need you to rule this world
or regain my pride

you opened your arms to me
and got so use to holding me  
tha you failed to realize that you started to hold me against my will

so
many nights
you drowned your common sense with that bottle of whiskey
and
so many nights you ate me like that birthday cake i made you
and so many nights you'd pin me down
and
**** me when
i was crying about my other ninety  nine problems
and i trusted you
and
you ended up being the worst one

and you would just hold me there
suspended in time
as you
****** away the day
and
my life
.

you just wouldn't let me go home.

my mom was in the driveway waiting
for me
and
i was too busy crying to notice.
shaken up
and over the top
like a cold coca cola.
waiting
for you to give me the okay
to put on my clothes
and buckle my seat belt
and lick the sticky sweetness of you off my lips..

do you
remember that one hot humid summer
when you hydroplaned
and crashed your car into that ravine
and nearly killed me
and all you were worried
about was the police figuring out
you didn't have insurance

and that guy with that lifted ford pulled your car out of that ravine and you laughed
and
shrugged it off
and sped away

well
despite what we thought
i died in that ravine
that day

and sometimes i wonder if you ever visit my grave
or hold me high in your head


do you..?


i want to go back in time
before the days
when no meant yes
and
your hands didn't feel like sandpaper

i want to tell you before you ever set your sights on a girl like me
to cut your loses
and let your expectations
and
me
  go.

i want to tell you all the things i hate about you
and that
i hate you for not letting me leave sooner.
and that i just
i hate you.

but
i
don't

in a twistedly
unexpected way


i think i forgave you a long time ago
but yet
i want to stab you in the throat and drink your blood like sweet wine..
so i can cherish
the ice that runs in your veins
and freezed
me over
all
those
frigid months ago
when no one bothered to save me.

If you’ve ever hydroplaned
You’ve felt the wild slide of wheels leaving pavement
While your heart’s in your throat as you wonder
If you’ll land calmly on the other side
Or go careening into a tree

It is this feeling that has gripped me since I fell for you
And my life has been a blur of racing heart
Uncertain how to maintain self
While tumbling chaotically through partnership
Terrifyingly exposed
Bewildered and aching
Because loving is so much

I will offer everything I am
And spin out of control
But I don’t know what comes after
Or after
Or after