Five Minutes

Have not been able to write in a long time. It has been many challenging months. Seems to be very difficult to get a break. 

Eight surgeries since March and my body is just not responding well anymore. I have just been discharged from the hospital on Tuesday after twelve days and two painful surgeries. 

This is not how I planned on entering another year. I was hoping to move forward. Finish school. Make something of myself. 

And instead, the hospitalizations are getting closer and closer. Constant visits to the emergency room. Spending more time with the neurosurgery residents than my actual friends. One rolling vein after another. My body can't do it anymore. My mind cannot calm down. 

All I want is to heal. To feel alert and alive. Be independent. Make my own choices. Be in control of my own body. To feel comfortable in any position. Be rid of this constant chronic pain. No more painkillers. To sleep. 

No more. I have had enough. It's gotten to a point where I cry for my mother. Who have I become. This slobbering, pathetic person. Can't get my act together. 

I whisper to myself throughout the day. Just get through the next five minutes. 

My mind is constantly running. Mostly at night. When sleep should take over. Instead, the pain and the thoughts take over. Reminding me of how awful life is. Of all the pain. The things I cannot do. 

I lay there for hours at a time dozing in and out of delirium. Imagining the worst. Dreaming and creating holocaust-like stories in my mind. Reliving memories that never happened. With people who are not here. Are not in my life. Or cannot even talk. 

I think of my mother. A lot. And I cry for the parents I wish I had. The home I wish I could go to. A cocoon where I can feel safe. Loved. Taken care of.  

I cry for my future. A future that felt so close. At the tips of my fingers. Slowly slipping away. I cry for my independence. I can't even take a shower on my own. My head is partially shaved. I am not myself. I cry for no reason at all. Being overwhelmed and exhausted should be enough of a reason. 

That's all for now. I need to lay down. 

I can make it through the next five minutes. 

That's all that matters right now. 

Five minutes. 

Bruised

I have been told by many recently that I should share what I am feeling. Not hold back. Playing the martyr. Adult. The one always in control. I'm afraid. Afraid that if I share, I will never survive. I will unleash this flood of tears that is suffocated so far down in my soul that I will not be able to stop. I will drown if I open up.

The truth is that I am bruised. Inside and out. My skin is black and blue. The staples go way deeper than my skin. They puncture my heart. Each metal piece cutting deeper and deeper until I am almost see-through. Non-existent.

I'm tired. Worn out. Beyond exhausted. Too much energy needed to pick up all the pieces. Again. Put everything back together. Function. Would you be surprised if this time I just can't. That I just want to give up. To be done.

Have I not lived long enough. Gone through it all. Put in my time. Why is thirty not considered a full life. I've given it all. I've lived. I'm tired. No more.

Whatever. That's it.

Authenticity Is Overrated

She feels calm

Calmness to breathe 

To sleep 

She has clarity 

Clear minded 

Clear conscious 

She is free 

Freedom to express herself 

Be herself 

She has no fear 

Of others

Herself 

She is unique 

One of a kind 

Unlike anyone else 

She is legitimate 

Solid and whole 

Accepted and needed

She is genuine 

Inside and out

Transparent 

Wake Up

I'm still here
And I am tired
I need a break
From life
From everyone
But mostly from myself
A minute
Would be nice
Of calm
Freedom
From reality
Life
Just one second
Pain free
No thoughts
Sleep
Why does my body
Betray me
Just need a break
Not sure how much more
I can take

permanently agitated

Am I agitated because my head hurts
Or does my head hurt because I'm agitated
Questions I ask myself
Every single day
Does everything have to feel
Like it's falling apart
Collapsing around me
Curve balls being thrown
Directly at my face
Tripping me as I move
Is the anger real
Or is it chemical imbalance
Am I kidding myself
Not going to therapy
No antidepressants
Faking this positive life
Suffocated by my own thoughts
Unable to handle real emotion
All sadness masked
Expressed as anger
Bubbling at the surface
Internal discomfort
Emotional immobility
Can't a girl catch a break
No pain
For a few minutes
No aggravation
For one day
Support
Attention
Love
Wouldn't that be nice
To feel like you belong
And not constantly abandoned
Over and over again
When will the agitation end
In others
Myself
Tell me. When.

Nowhere. Fast.

I just have to say that I don't get it. What does god want from me. 

You think that you work hard. Get your life together. For the most part. And he just sends you a reminder. That he's in charge. 

Why do I not place blame in the correct place. Selfish. 

People are selfish. They think of themselves. And not others. Do not consider the consequences. The results. The effects. 

And yet. I still blame god. For being that puppeteer. Playing me like a marionette. 

Not letting me have a break. To live. In peace. 

But seriously. You know better. Answer me why. It's not ok. 

Don't look to me to make your life better. As a distraction. I am not a pawn in your game. I am a free agent. And I call the shots in my life. 

So take my advice. Make smarter choices. Don't be led by your temptations. They'll get you nowhere. Fast.

Publish

Every day I know I should write. I know I should clear my mind. Unburden my soul. And yet I'm blocked. Distracted. Unmotivated. Uninspired. Thoughts come to me in the shower. While driving. While painting. While laying in bed. But I can never bring myself to write them down. To clarify. To unleash. To let my mind unwind. It's as if I consciously choose to keep them internal. For fear of facing the truth. As if reality would stare at me back from the page. Grab my throat. Choke me. Suffocate me. Force me to face things. No avoidance allowed.

And yet life continues. Challenging me at every step. Blocking my every move. Never dull. No break. Even when I've received this forced break. Total removal of all outside responsibilities. Empty nest. Sudden quiet and silent life. Outsiders stepping in. Making decisions without all the facts. Orthodoxy at its best.