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Category Archives: Mental Illness

Depression | [POETRY]


poetry_depression_003

|  depression

Driven to the hinterlands

driven to the gray

by the chemical reaction

of the chemicals I take

to balance the effects

of the chemicals I make

 

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Sometimes | [POETRY]


Just a quick poem that came to mind tonight.

To my friends who will call because they’re worried, I am fine. I promise. Mom, Chelise, Mistaken…I really am.

…Just a little bout with Specter.

But he ain’t gonna win. 

I know other people needed to hear this so they know they are not alone.

Thank you for sharing.

poetry_sometimes_001

Sometimes I miss my daughter

Sometimes I miss her bad

Sometimes I hate the loneliness

I wish I never had

Sometimes I like to be alone

Sometimes I wish I weren’t

Sometimes I wish someone would hold me

And take away the hurt

Sometimes I’m fine and focused

Sometimes I rarely am

Sometimes I shut the windows

And cry as loud I can

Sometimes I’m grey, the Specter

Sometimes I can’t bear the ill

Sometimes I think I’ll make it

Sometimes I doubt I will

 

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Who Is Specter? | [REBLOG]


In lieu of September being Suicide Prevention/Awareness Month, I am reposting some of my older posts that deal with my depression, my suicide attempt, and verses/quotations of hope and strength. Please feel free to pass these on to others who feel alone – it is one of the worst feelings in the world to go through this by yourself. Thank you for visiting and sharing your thoughts, my friend.

X Chris


specter

When I first began thinking of writing about clinical depression, I stopped thinking. I put it to rest. Why would I consider doing what I was considering? What would I do in the face of my family and friends when they found out? I felt so shameful. So inadequate. So inferior. And I felt so alone. Especially as a male. Men aren’t supposed to talk about our feelings. We’re not supposed to cry. Not show weakness. Not show emotion.

specter_003This…thing I had, made me do all those things. And it wouldn’t leave. It just lingered there for years. It reared its ugly head more than I could handle. I saw its sinister teeth glistening in the shadows. Its chipped, stiletto nails sliding around the corner and scratching on the walls of my soul.

Later, through years of counseling and medicine, doctors help me put a name to this thing and they called it depression. I’ve come to call it, Specter.

A big step to my living with depression and being haunted by Specter was the realization of what I was going through was real. It was not imagined. I was not a freak or different because I was going through it. I was normal. The Lord just dealt me a hand that was different from other folks in my life. That’s a-whole-‘nother talk which I imagine I’ll address in the future. The biggest help to me was decoding the codex. Once I discovered the following four items, I could live with my depression. Yours may be different my friend. You may have less. You may have more. There’s no standard here. And that’s perfectly fine.

Here are four truths I’ve learned from my years of living with depression:

Read the rest of this entry »

 

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Robin Williams on Depression | [QUOTE]


I’ve noticed this post gets hits everyday so I thought it’d be worthwhile to repost it.

X Chris

robin_williams_001

“I think the saddest people always try their hardest to make people happy because they know what it’s like to feel absolutely worthless and they don’t want anyone else to feel like that.”

-Robin Williams

 

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Image

Remember this, my friend!


to the world you may be one person, but to one person you may be the world.

 

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My Mom’s Story in Remembering My Suicide Attempt | [GUEST BLOG]


Today it has been a year since I hanged myself.

I asked my mom if she would tell her story in remembering that day.

These are her words.


A telephone rings, breaking the silence of a peaceful morning.

Still in bed, reaching for the phone and hearing a son’s voice.

Cheerily say “hello” and hear the pain in his voice, trembling, as he asks if I am sitting.

I know in my heart it is news about his older brother, so I brace for the words but not the words I expected.

Maybe words of an accident or broken bones but never the words “suicide attempt.”  Those words were not in my vocabulary. It happened to other people, and other people’s children. Mine were safe from that darkness.

Tears fell with an ebb and flow, trying to know what to do, who to call, how to end this pain and nightmare. Not knowing what lay at the other end in another state 10 hours away, I felt so helpless.”

Dear Lord, protect and bless my dear sons. Both need your strength and healing power.”

Praying gave me a new strength and I embarked on the darkest journey of a mother’s life.

Crying, praying, texting…that was the rhythm of my life as the car wheels turned and the distance shrank between questions and answers.

Distance that took so long to span when all I wanted to do was hold my broken son close.

Hospitals are cold and sterile and meeting my trembling voiced, bad news bearing son helped to bring me comfort at the entrance. Surrounded by caring people, nurses preparing me for what I would see, what lay behind closed doors and long curtains. Friends of my darkness-fighting son were waiting, praying. Soooo many friends, so many arms surrounding a sobbing mother fighting to be strong.

Then the long walk into a dim cave of machines and white robed angel nurses surrounding hurting people in the ICU. Kindly leading me onward to what I dreaded to face on my own, needing the arms of strangers as well as the strong arm of the Good Shepherd.

Is it time yet? Am I there? Do I have to do this? Are you sure I am the one that has to face this?

Yes, yes and yes.

“I have paved the way and am walking with you” were the words I could hear in my heart sent from the Shepherd.

The curtain pulled back gently by another angel nurse and there lay my darkness-fighting son. My heart broke for his pain, his fighting against this all swallowing enemy that had brought him so low.

My son who could make me laugh was now without laughter of his own.

What did he need from me. All I had to give was the mother love that I had for him and his brother and sister.

I took my seat next to him and gently rubbed his tethered hand which lay against the cold steel frame of the bed.

I reached over and gently kissed his brow saying, “Momma’s here now, son. I love you. I will always love you. Together we will fight the darkness. Together with the Shepherd.”

As I said these words I thought my fight was over but little did I know that the darkness was laughing at me. My fight had just begun and will continue until the darkness is diminished and the troops of light are surrounding my darkness-fighting son. He has always been a fighter and his fighting spirit will continue to rally the troops of other darkness-fighting souls of which I am proud to call my adopted children. God bless you all.

 

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Guest Blogger Teaser


Hi, I’m Chris.

And I survive with severe depression.

Since this Monday will be one year since I hanged myself, I’ve asked my mom to be a guest blogger.

I will post her story this Monday night, so please stop back to read what she wrote. You’re NOT going to want to miss this!

Thank you for your support in following surviving the specter and for always sharing your thoughts, my friends. I love you.

X Chris

 

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