I can see all the lonely people … because they are me … and we are just floating like feathers, vulnerable to the wind … and I am so far away.
I cannot sink. I cannot settle. And I am exhausted. It is odd to see the ability of people to fly and progressively soar … and I have no wings … just a single feather. Floating …
Here is my need, this is my ask.
Oh it’s so easy …
Here is my need, this is my ask. Here is my need, this is my ask. Here is my need, this is my ask.
I wrote it over and over again … perfect. Control. Controlling to perfect. Per-fect.
Good God. Get a hold of yourself. Just stop. Stop stop stop stop stop stop stop stop.
It is ultimately satisfying and soothing to write STOP. Stop stop stop.
Stop the hurt, stop the shame, stop the guilt … fear. Stop stop stop.
Just stop. Stop the stimuli. Stop the loud. Stop the angst. Stop the broken things. Stop light. Stop dark.
Just be. Stop. Please.
Some days are … sweet. Transparent and real.
My flesh is tender … soft … accepting … yielding …
It is pain … heart-wrenching … not wanting badly enough what is.
For the love of bullet points …
Deactivated Facebook for 3 days … went back on tonight cause I wanted a glimpse of my friends blog that I’d been missing. I was hoping the “Facebook fast” would help me pursue other things. I did … a bit. Colored a picture and gave it away. Had lunch with a friend. Had dinner with coworkers … lots of rowdy library folk. (Yes, they exist.) All nice things I suppose.
The loneliness is heavier than ever … the spontaneous laughter feels like a lie and I’m ashamed for it. The writing is a lie … because my mind and heart can’t seem to agree and my fingers are tired … so they lie. They lay silent while my ears ring. My arms bleed with the desire of … God, something I can’t even accurately and completely describe. A yearn for release. My temples throb for lack of it. The frustration is maddening.
So I’m sitting here, unable to stop tears … simply cause that’s how God made me. My throat is tight and burning.
I hate this death rising inside me. It sours my voice and keeps me sick … it just keeps swirling … it is infinite …
I am so tired of feeling. The weight of emotion is pressing into my lungs, constricting. God I want to be done.
Can anyone else understand?
I am tired.
From Business Woman to Female Pastor
Reading and writing are my chosen methods of (much needed) therapy.
integrating the light and the dark
Biking, Running, Graduate School, Cats, and Cosplaying. Oh and don't for get social anxiety for fun..
A walk of faith - becoming a youth worker.
Raising Awareness For Self-Harm& Inspiration For Those In Recovery.
The writings and opinions of a regular girl.
Self Harm and OCD as an adult
My downward spiral of drug addiction and my spiral out through recovery.
exploring therapy and life
Poems and Thoughts: Faith, Self Harm and Society
the joy and heartache of animal rescue
Insanity at it's best!!
Live with no excuses, Love with no regrets
Life on the sidelines of mental illness
Overcoming Difficult Trials
The journey from victim to victory