Fluidity of Friendship

Life moves so fast
People go different directions

Suddenly the present is the past
Memories once vivid
Become blurry and faded Continue reading

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She Wants To Believe

She-Wants-To-Believe

She’s a fighter, they say, been on the front lines in the battles against her own mind for many years.  She’s been fortunate despite her illness, though, comes from a loving and supportive family.  They say she’s better now, the depression is under control and she’s on the right track.  They all talk about how much she’s grown and the things she’s accomplished in recent years.  She thinks it’s nice they’re proud of her.  

She’s gotten better at presenting well and hiding her emotions, most of the time.  She will tell you she is better at managing her emotions, most of the time she is.  She still feels it gnawing at the edges of her sanity, an inexplicable fear and sadness scratching her smooth surface.  She’s sure you can see it if you look into her eyes, but she’s not sure anyone is looking closely enough.  They see what they want to see, she tries to feel what they want her to feel – she wants to feel it, too.

She tries to tell them she doesn’t feel right, that the edges are crumbling and the walls are closing in.  They tell her she’s fine, this is what real life feels like.  She questions herself and she questions them; after all, real life to her is different than real life to them.  She wonders if feeling nothing and fearing everything is what real life is supposed to be like.  They say to stay the course.  They tell her to hold on and she’ll make it – welcome to the real world.

She wants to believe she can be free from the traps her mind sets so cleverly.  She wants to be sure she’s not slipping back into the depths of depression’s grasp.  She struggles to see clearly; feels weighted down, lethargic, and often teary.  Uninspired, disenchanted, and restless, the days drag by endlessly.  She uses all strategies in combating these unwelcome symptoms of her disease.  She is a fighter, she refuses to let this battle be her defeat.

They say she’s better now, they say the depression is at bay.  She says it depends on how you measure what ‘better’ is.  She’ll tell you she’s fought enough to know she’s stronger now, but the depression is never far enough away.  She’s learned the hard way that they don’t understand the intensity of her feelings and that’s okay.  They love her, she thinks it’s nice they want her to be happy – even if they don’t look too closely.     

Courage At The End

They had hospital beds side by side in their apartment at the nursing home where they lived.  She had end-stage bone cancer, barely holding onto life.  He was diagnosed with failure to thrive, the only thing he was holding onto in this life was her.

She had weeks to live and every moment was wrought with pain.  They both had 24-hour care and the hospice nurses used everything at their disposal to make her comfortable.  Her words were barely audible and she was bed bound.  She had to be moved every few hours to avoid bedsores but every movement was agonizing.  He was constantly concerned about her, wanting to be near her, hoping to depart this world at the very moment she did.  He made that clear, announcing that he did not want to live a moment past her last breath – though his health indicated he would.   Continue reading

Withered

life-death-fragile-withered

Arteries hang on vines of rust

Vocal chords made of sand & dust

Bones swept away like ash at the slightest touch

Life

withers and sways and crumbles

As it must.

Stagnant

I feel like I’m standing still as life spins and whirls around me at lightning speed. Continue reading

A Common Misconception

I read something the other day, I can’t quote it exactly, but the idea was that a depressed person is a weak person.  When I am in the depths of a depressive episode, my monster (a name I’ve given my depression) wants me to believe that I am weak, and often I do feel weak.  But when I read what I read the other day, I quickly wrote this down…

even at my weakest
I am strong
for I am still here breathing.
if I had no strength
my heart would’ve stopped beating
long ago.

Continue reading