Tag Archives: voices

The End Is Near.

September 14th, 2014  7:08 PM

Life is an obstacle;
Please, forgive me for making shortcuts.
As a matter of fact,
Please, forgive me for making cuts.
Upon the forearm that my Mother gave me
And the upper thigh from which my Father used to raise me.

Tell me that I am loved;
Scratch that, tell me that I am worth it.
Tell me that my birthright is right
And that I have a place here in your nest.
A room for me to protest
Against the poison
Stated against me
Used against me
Engraved in me.

Save me from the end;
The unexpected climax
Of my treacherous journey.
Let me bury my face
In the pit of your blossom soul
In hopes for my mustard seed faith
To bloom and grow.

The end is near;
Oh, dear please forgive me
For my wrongs and rights.
My dues have been subdued
By the voices of the past.
Correct me if I am wrong
But I know that I can no longer go on.

I am troubled.
Sick and tired of living
In this downright bubble.
Cuddle me righteous;
Cuddle me gracious;
Cover me with serenity
To discourage the forthcoming feeling
That my end is near.

Today, I Overdosed.

August 2nd, 2014  8:09 PM

Today, I overdosed;
Made the courageous righteous decision to die
Of laughter, pain, fear, and sorrow.

Today, I overdosed;
As I watched the love of my life
Walk out and abandoned me on the front steps for another woman;
For someone more “appealing”, “long-standing”, “sensible”, and “happier” than I am.
There I was,
Out on a short limb stranded alone to die.
So I cried;
A tear for each friend I miraculously used my two bloody hands to push away;
A tear for the vigorous hearts I stepped upon and broke perfectly into two whole pieces.

Today, I overdosed;
As I tried to use my two feeble hands to pull the 6 inch knife out from my brawny back.
The knife you used to stab me in the back.

Today, I overdosed;
Because I was locked in a white room strapped to a musty hospital bed for 8 whole days with no one there to hold my hand.
I laid there for 8 whole days waiting patiently to hear that I’ve received a phone call from a loved one saying, “I love you”.
But, no.
I lifelessly hopelessly laid there.

Today, I overdosed;
Because my own flesh and blood want nothing more to do with me;
They cannot stand the naked sight of being related to
A maniac.
A psychotic, crazy Homo Sapien like me.

Today, I overdosed;
Because I slit my wrist 12 times for the pain each person has caused me in the last 12 hours.
I stained my warm blood on the cold ice presented to me.
There I sat and watched my contagious acute blood melt the living life out of something so glossy, solid, and frozen.

Today, I overdosed;
Because I was told
I am like a broken toy that cannot be fixed.
I am not worth replacing batteries for;
I am not worth another cent from a loved one’s wealthy pocket.

Today, I overdosed;
I received a call from my local bank saying I have $5.18 to my Golden name.
I am homeless.
I have no green cash to spend on clothes, food, or water.
Nobody wants to let this lost soul in
So, I decided to overdose.

Today, I overdosed;
I failed to call for help during
My manic, hypo-manic, depressive episode.
I tried to call, but there was no number to dial.
So, I decided to overdose.

Today, I overdosed;
Because I pulled the last straw of hope
From a gigantic bundle presented to me
After my most recent discharge from the hospital.
It split in half and fell nonchalantly to the rocky ground.
My hope is gone.
So, I decided to overdose.

I have found my inner happiness
And it is not to be here
Walking through the valley of this shallow Earth.

I have found my joy
And it is not to be here
Singing my painful song to an ignorant sea of sane adults.

I have found my peace
And it is not to be here;
But, it lies 10 feet above my tombstone
Beyond the depths of the bright Northern star.

Today, I overdosed;
To say goodbye to what could have been a happier tomorrow.

The events presented and illustrated above are true experiences of mine. Not all of them are situations I have experienced but I have witnessed and felt. I wrote this for others, like myself, who can relate to the pain, thoughts, feelings and uncontrollable behaviors of various mental illnesses during different episodes. Please, seek help if this post has triggered any sensitive sensors in your life or call the suicide prevention hotline number, 1-800-273-8255.

THIS is My Victory!

July 18th, 2014  10:13 AM

The clock strikes 12
The battle and I have become 1
It stabs me right in the heart;
To watch the  ruby-red blood pour profusely
Through my chest cavity
To wash away the 2 things
That are darted towards my feeble face:
Hatred and Stigma.
I walk towards the battle
Stronger and wiser than ever before
To look into its paltry eyes.
Our eyes meet at 3
To see 4 things
Standing right in front of me:
Emptiness, Hopelessness, Loneliness, and Worthlessness.
The battle whispers 5 hysterical words to me:
“Your time is now up”.
I stand taller and wiser
And smile through my pearly white teeth and rebel
To bellow these 6 wondrous words:
“This is my life, my victory!”
I stand above the battle
7 feet taller than its men
To walk 8 steps closer to the source.
I am surrounded by 9 support soldiers
To protect me from the battle.
Together as a group of 10
We conquer and defeat the 11 men
I am in battle with.
The clock strikes 12;
I have won my battle;
Now I can claim my victory;
THIS, is my victory!

Suicide: Why is it so important to me?

July 15th, 2014  10:19 AM

Suicide. Yes I said it. The one word almost everyone dreads to hear, think, or even talk about. But why? I am sure there are several reasons, even personal reasons, as to why people do not want to talk about suicide. Stigma is the common denominator between almost all the reasons one can think of. Yes, stigma. The annoying little voice who says, “you are a disgrace to feel, think, and behave the way you do because of anxiety, depression, ADHD, ADD, bipolar, depression, personality disorders, schizophrenia  etc.” This tiny voice actually speaks in a pretty loud voice for everyone to hear. And you know what? Its voice is so loud to the point where several people will stop and take the time to listen to the “stigma”.  I am not going to be a hypocrite here because there was a point in time when I used to listen to the “stigma” which is why I ignored my mental illness for several years.  So what was the “stigma” actually telling me?” Here are some words that I’ve heard from the “stigma” :

  • You are a Christian, you were raised in a Christian household, therefore if you commit suicide you will go to Hell and God will condemn you.  You are a sinner. Your family will disown you if you take your life.
  • You should be ashamed of yourself for even thinking ‘suicide’. You are weak, a true disgrace, and filthy.
  • Shut your mouth. You better not speak up about what is on your mind and stop crying! Do not say a word about how depressed you are feeling today to the point you want to commit suicide. You know the people around you are not going to believe you.
  • So you want help? You do not need ‘help’.  You better self-medicate or move on from the depressed, hopeless, loneliness feelings.

The list goes on and on.  At the age of 14 I started to obsess about suicide and suicidal thoughts/ideation. I became so obsessed to the point where I felt so comfortable speaking about suicide openly to close friends. Now of course this scared my friends greatly but it did not bother me one bit. The stories I read, I could relate to the feeling and pain of the characters. Then I learned about “suicidal threats” from a non – fiction book and started to use suicidal threats as a way to get people’s attention; essentially a cry for help and that I am truly hurting on the inside and need to be wanted, cared for, and loved.

Of course, the “suicidal threats” were not taken seriously and this made me mad, furious. So what did I do? I started to act out my threats and bring them to life as yet, another silent cry for help, attention, love, care  etc. This worked. But my parents tried to ignore the fact that their first daughter really did need professional help. I got the help I needed but there was still a miniscule part of me and my brain that just wanted to ‘suicide’. Yes this seems odd and like my psychiatrist puts it, there is a part of me that enjoys the methodology behind suicide because I can mentally and physically relate to the inner pain that causes such action. I’ve become so prone to the thoughts and feelings of suicide that I no longer show emotion towards the word. In other words, I tend to now smile get excited, and laugh openly when I talk about suicide and to others they find this offensive, weird, and crazy. I am currently working with my therapist to look deeper into why I am doing this and positive mechanisms/ tactics to use when such thoughts and feeling arise.

As most of you know my best friend recently committed suicide and you are probably wondering how I reacted to the news if suicide is greatly important to me. The day I found out she ‘suicide’ I completely shut down; loss significant touch with myself and my life.  I experienced the same natural grief anyone experiences during a significant loss of a loved one. I cried for hours, for days, for months because I lost someone who meant so much to me to something that is genuinely  important to me. I am not going to lie but a part of me was (somewhat still is)  jealous that she successfully ‘suicide’ and I’ve always failed.  Sounds terrible and sick right? Yes I know and I am aware of my thoughts but this is how my mind operates.

Why is suicide so important to me? Suicide is important to me because I feel like I am still a burden to the world, my family, and friends with everything that is going on with me. I feel like I am not retaining  and listening to the help I am receiving; I am not believing that my medications are truly working even when I feel happy, stable, and good.  In all honesty, there is a small part, probably around 15%, that just does not want to go on with life; does not want to deal with the rejection, anticipation, and all of the things we have to experience in life to learn what life is truly all about.

This 15% throws all the love, the care , the appreciation I get from family and friends out the door and focus on trying to make sense of what the world would be like if I was no longer physically in it anymore.

This 15% wants to say goodbye to the things  that I have difficulty doing like making friends, keeping a stable relationship with others, being happy in the things I enjoy doing, academics, etc.

This 15% does not want to return to and finish some of the most important things I’ve started because I am afraid of failure i.e. completing my Bachelors Degree in Chemical Engineering.

So what is the 85% doing? Living and appreciating the gift of life. The 85% is thankful for getting a second chance at life that many people do not get if they attempt suicide and it successfully happens. The 85% wants to seek help and be open about the feelings, and thoughts that come up in the middle of the night. The 85% wants to be strong and fight the stigma and show the world that yes, I can and will graduate with my Bachelors in Chemical Engineering despite the fact I have Major Depressive Disorder (MDD) and Borderline Personality Disorder (BPD).

The 85% recognizes the true purpose of life and what my passion is and the goals I want to achieve one day. I know one day I am going to speak at mental health conferences and share my story; I know that I am going to write and publish a book about my story; I know one day I am going to find true love and get married to someone who supports my illness and loves me for me.

The 85% recognizes the importance of psychotherapy and taking medication. I know and truly do believe my Viibryd and Seroquel are working to make me feel happier, stable, energized, and alert. I know that there are people out there who care and love me and want to be there for me. With that being said I will let them in and let them stay and lean on them.

Will the 85% increase and the 15% decrease? I honestly do not know. But what I do know is that I do believe in myself and love myself for who I am that I can recognize when I am getting ready to experience a downfall and suicidal thoughts/ideation. In that moment I know I have support people to go to and a hotline number to call. I know that I am not embarrassed to think, say, and feel the way I do because it is not my fault; it is not my fault I have MDD and BPD, it is not my fault I have a chemical imbalance. I love every second of my life right now; every single breath that I comes out; every step; every word I say everyday.

Even though suicide is still important to me, I am not going to let it stop me from getting the help I know I need or cause me to avoid taking my medication; I am going to rise above the 15% that still wants to pull me down and break me. I am in control of my thoughts, feelings, and behaviors; not the ‘suicide’.

The Soar

July 13th, 2014  11:51 PM

It is time for me
To spread my Motherly wings
And become one
With the Morning sky.

It is time for me
To bid a fond Adieu
To the commodities
That tie me down directly
To this Earth.

It is time for me
To give birth
And give a piece
Of myself to the meandering souls
Who cannot behold
Or find the time
To focus on their life
Which is currently on hold.

It is time for me
To soar.

The day I come in contact
With a Category 5 storm
Or a colossal tree
Standing right in front of me,
I shall and will remain calm;
Open my frail wings
And fly above the halt
In my path.

The day my wings become feeble
And cannot fly through
The eye of the storm,
I shall and will take a rest and heal;
I shall and will not appeal
My emotions and cause a random commotion.
I will tweet my notion
For the nation to hear.

The day my beak cannot sneak a peak
To peck the neck
Of the one who holds the key
To unlock my soul,
I shall and will use my shattered beak
To feed the hungry souls of the meek.

When my two feet cannot find
The true reason to no longer stand
Or the urge to wait for the other birds
To hurry up to beat the approaching storm,
I shall and will be patient;
Seek tranquility to find my inner patience
In the white Cherubic clouds above.

It is time for me
To stop hiding
And come out from under the burrow.
It it time for me
To leave the nest,
Take a rest,
To find my best
When my mind tries to mess
And put me through a troublesome test.

Yes, the nest is my home.
It is because of the nest
I can be on my own.
I am stronger,
And healthier than ever before.
It is because of the nest
My wings now have the precious strength
To rise up and soar;
Above the closed door
Who tells me to count to four
Then shut the door
On the weak;
This time around
I shall and will put a bolt
In the door
In order to be the soar.

I am ready to spread my
Pretty little wings
And soar;
To soar and touch the lives of
The other broken birds
I encounter along the way.
I shall and will not take the soar forever alone.