Mended | [Poetry]

i built a little wall around

a broken little heart I found

that’d fallen out upon the ground

to save it from the hurt

 

i patched the hurt and kissed the pain

i hugged away the guilt and shame

i helped to make it beat again

the once l’il broken heart

 

Nursery Rhyme | [Poem]

Trigger Warning: This poem is about self harm. Please do not read it if this is a trigger. [UPDATED] Though I do not struggle with self harm, several of the close people in my life do, and so I wanted their words to be heard and felt here. These words put into poetic form, are from the discussions and talks I’ve had with those people.

Cut this line upon my skin

So I can feel what a pain I’ve been

Burn this flame upon my flesh

So I can control this life a mess

Drill this hole into my thigh

To take away the numb, make me feel alive

Now I lay me down to sleep

I pray the Lord nobody weeps

 

The Darkest Thing

Laying on the couch.

Skeletal arm around me.

Sucks my soul away.

 

 

Toxicity | [Poetry]

Toxicity

My soul has left and with it,

The Albums and the Tags.

The memories put in boxes,

And thrown out in the trash.

Windows boarded,

curtains down,

paint chips fall onto the ground.

A weathered waste, at the end of town.

I pack up and I leave.

 

 

Killing Myself | Part 2

*TW

Hello my little failure, we’ve been waiting for your return

We know our pressure’s way too much, we know for what you yearn

A little song of sweet respite, to whet your pathetic appetite

We promise to close the lid real tight, and flood our darkness in to your light

*     *     *

I made a drink of 100 proof, my razor blade of choice

To drown out demon voices, to cut their endless noise

I mixed it full with anger, and hurt, and hopelessness

I drank it quick, I drank it fast, I drank it with relentlessness

*     *     *

Callous words are spoken, when we all need love the most

I needed grace, I needed kindness, and to vent without recourse

Maybe one day we’ll be able, to cast aside our pride

And give the tenderness we need, and put ourselves aside

 

 

The Wall | [Poetry]

The Wall

A little brick of hate was laid, down into the dirt.

Along with words of callousness, and spite, and wrath, and hurt.

A wall was built that housed mistrust, by someone I loved dear.

It grew in strength, brick by brick, each year it grew in fear.

 

All I could do was sit and cry, and beg that it’d come down.

But each day mortar, stone, and hate, solidified it with the ground.

I saw the light begin to fade, as it closed against the sky.

I hung my head in deep despair, in hopelessness I cried.

 

Then one day a dove appeared, against the blackened grey.

It chipped the joints, and broke the bricks, and toppled them away.

It pecked, and chipped, and split the wall, stone by simple stone.

For love and peace had reached a soul, that never the soul had known.

 

And now a garden there exists, in place of deep despair.

No brokenness, no sadness, no signs of disrepair.

For what was once a wall they made, was used to shut me out.

Love had now transformed through healing, and brought the rampart down.

---

Walls are tough, man.

I’ve done my own wall making and wall breaking over the years. Erected them when I’m hurt. Angry. Resentful. Deconstructed them when I’m sorry, regretful, and desperate.

Desperate to rebuild that broken relationship from what seems the long ago burnt out embers that blow away into the breeze like little flakes of confetti.

Hardly celebratory though. No, those were sad stories.

Then there’s those relationships whose embers glow, but may never be meant to be reignited. They’re toxic. Poisonous to our soul. They deteriorate us. They hurt us to our core.

Maybe this poem could be an excuse for us to make amends in a broken relationship?

 

 

 

 

 

I Want to See What You See | Poetry

Camera lens of happiness, to take away the grey

Cuz sunshine’s there, I see it, it’s just a million miles away.

Camera lens of hopefulness, to take away despair

The never ending fog of war, the loss of will to care.

Camera lens of energy, to take away the apathy

The never ending lethargy, the sits inside of me.

Camera lens of healing, to take away the pain

Cuz sunshine’s there, I know it, even through the rain

 

 

So What? [POETRY]

I would like to thank Natalie and Alexandra over at Joy with a Side of Sarcasm for their humbling rendition of “So whAt.”! What an awesome tribute using Vimeo. Thank you ladies. Please check out and follow their blog and leave a comment!

XXXXX Chris

Here is the link to the original post – So whAt. [Poetry]

<p><a href=”https://vimeo.com/161704664″>stravens_Salfi_MP2_Sound</a&gt; from <a href=”https://vimeo.com/user47865027″>Alexandra</a&gt; on <a href=”https://vimeo.com”>Vimeo</a&gt;.</p>

 

Depression | [POETRY]

|  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

 

Pull Me [Poetry]

TRIGGER WARNING-This post deals with how I felt the night of my suicide attempt.

I hope you will scroll down and continue reading after the words, which I’ve typed out in text format.

Pull Me

I had a little trigger, that pushed me all the way

To hang myself upon my door, I couldn’t make it go away

I knocked it down with sleeping pills, and tucked it in with rum

The Specter slashed his razor claws, the round had slipped into the gun

 

I had a little trigger, that pulled itself real tight

I slipped the belt around my neck, I lost the will to fight

I cut it off with leather cinched, this time would be the last

I’d ever have to take again, the demons from my past

 

I had a little trigger, it jabbed me in my throat

To end the crap that smeared itself, across the lies it wrote

The failures, loss, resentment, of a thousand dreaded days

To suck out all the happiness, replaced it with the grey that stays

 

The trigger pulled, the hammer fell

The firing pin, that sealed my hell

Waiting while the light fades out

Extinguishing without a shout

---

 

Thank you if you are still reading.

My name is Chris, and on September 14th of 2014 I hanged myself.

I’ve been away for a while…pursuing a graduate certificate in eLearning.

But just mostly away…

Apathetic. I really can’t shake it.

I’ve been on a roll of laziness and sloth.

Driven to the hinterlands of the gray by the chemical reaction of the chemicals I take, to balance the effects of the chemicals I make.

I’m still in that chemical funk but wanted to force myself to write something in the interim. Thank you for my dear friends who have reached out to check on me. I am indebted to your caring, kindness.

X Chris

p.s. – in lieu of recent WP changes, would someone please let me know how we are to link  back to previous posts?

 

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.

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

 

Specter | [POETRY]

This is a repost of a four part poem I wrote on Specter, the personification of my depression. With it I hope that others suffering from the torment of depression and thoughts of suicide know they are not alone. Remember this is Suicide Prevention/Awareness month. Let’s help breathe hope to those who may be in a valley.

Thank you to my readers and followers for all your support. You are special to me.

X Chris

Specter, Pt. 1

Michael please save me,

deliver my soul.

Specter is slashing,

and tearing a hole.

It bites and It gnashes,

and tears open my wounds.

I don’t have the will,

it’ll be over soon…

Specter, Pt. 2

…And as I looked up,

my defender looked down.

Descended and thrust,

crushed Specter to the ground

His lance tip pointed,

at the devil’s crown.

Specter’s incisors and daggers

extended and grown…

Specter, Pt. 3

…Specter shrieked like a pig bled, hanging on slaughter.

Its lips ripped back over its chipped fangs,

the skin grew taughter.

He ripped and he tore,

at my back and my flesh.

He knew that his time

was limited at best.

Because the archangel had come,

and bore down on his evil.

As I rode the waves up and down,

in this life, so surreal.

Specter, Pt. 4

The Final Chapter

…And Michael roared,

at Specter under his heel,

“Thou shall not harm, leave,

you are cast out.

“From this place you torment,

I will cut you down.”

Sword raised in death thrust

The Protector bore down.

And severed the devil’s head

Throwing it to the ground.

 

I Thought of You | [POETRY]

With this month being Suicide Prevention/Awareness Month, I am reblogging my posts and poetry that deal specifically with suicide, as well as those things that often result in suicide such as (but NOT limited to) depression, bullying, etc.

This is a poem I wrote after I read a blogger’s post about wanting to die. Please share it with someone you are thinking of that is dealing with this RIGHT NOW.

I saw you THOUGHT of suicide,

I saw you wish you died.

Your loneliness and brokenness,

Were all you had inside.

The noose, the pills, the razors,

Sing songs OF sweet respite.

I know my friend, I’ve been there,

I tried too, to end my life.

So hope I send my warrior,

My majestic, fighting friend.

You will not give up that easily,

You’ll fight it to the end.

When life, and friends, and family,

Jeer and taunt YOU to the last.

Hang onto life you solid rock,

Someone needs you now, not in their past.

---

 

Jar of Emptiness | [POETRY]

Someone was preparing to end their life. 

You prevented them from doing that without even knowing it…

Please pass this on to someone who is struggling with thoughts of suicide this September – Suicide Prevention/Awareness month.

I held a jar of emptiness

Lonely, full of gray

It sucked out all the sunshine

It took the joy away

You came and said hello to me

You put some brightness in

I will not forget your kindness

My thoughtful, loving friend

 

Words and Tones | [POETRY]

In this poem, I wanted to interpret how words and tones can impact a person’s spirit. 

I wanted the words to this verse to create an impact in several different areas…

I wanted them to speak to bullying – in both a child’s and adult’s lives.

I wanted them to speak to abuse – physical, emotional, spiritual…

I wanted them to speak to the injury we may haplessly create regardless of our intentions.

My words and tones have caused hurt to others and they are something I can never take back.

I wanted them to serve as a reminder to myself and others of what we say and how we say it, can impact a person’s life right now.

Words and Tones

Their hateful words and tones of voice, ripped into her heart.

They ripped a life in two that day, they tore it right apart.

Ripping flesh right off the bone, of that 10-year old someone’s girl.

Their ignorance and self righteousness, broke her little world.

Their callousness and piercing tongues, broke the boy that day.

At 12 he never imagined, to see his self esteem thrown away.

Their burns and punches, curses flung, did his spirit break.

Leaving memories and happiness, destroyed in terror’s wake.

And when our tones, and little words, enter others’ ears.

Are we sending kindness and caring, or terrorizing little fears?

We can make or break a spirit, we can build up or break down.

It all depends on what we say, that make them smile or frown.

 

Selfless | [POETRY]

Reblog this to someone who may need to hear it today.

Let’s reach out to our friends who are hurting.

Selfless

He took a little piece of him,

and placed it in my hand

I was hurting, sad, and broken,

and I couldn’t understand

Why he gave so selflessly,

and cared to share a part

Of him so free and graciously,

a portion of his heart

 

I Don’t Love You | [POETRY]

I Don’t Love You

Of all the cruelest, hurtful things,

that cut me to the bone.

The harshest are these, “I don’t love you.”

Those are the worst I’ve ever known.

-Surviving the Specter

 

The Wall | [POETRY]

The Wall

A little brick of hate was laid, down into the dirt.

Along with words of callousness, and spite, and wrath, and hurt.

A wall was built that housed mistrust, by someone I loved dear.

It grew in strength, brick by brick, each year it grew in fear.

All I could do was sit and cry, and beg that it’d come down.

But each day mortar, stone, and hate, solidified it with the ground.

I saw the light begin to fade, as it closed against the sky.

I hung my head in deep despair, in hopelessness I cried.

Then one day a dove appeared, against the blackened grey.

It chipped the joints, and broke the bricks, and toppled them away.

It pecked, and chipped, and split the wall, stone by simple stone.

For love and peace had reached a soul, that never the soul had known.

And now a garden there exists, in place of deep despair.

No brokenness, no sadness, no signs of disrepair.

For what was once a wall they made, was used to shut me out.

Love had now transformed through healing, and brought the rampart down.

 

My Angel, Oh My Angel | [POETRY]

My Angel, oh my Angel.

My Angel, Oh My Angel

I spoke with my angel as she cried today.

Her heart was ripped in half.

Her relationship with her mom had tumbled.

And hope was at best a laugh.

“My mom made me, feel like a fool.”

I can’t take this anymore.

It hurts too much, it pains my soul.

It breaks me to the floor.

“And when hope comes back to fill my mind,

I want to run away.

She’s broke my trust, that’s it, I’m done.

I quit, that’s what I say.”

And to my friend I listened, her heart was ripped in half.

Her gentle, fragile soul was spent, hope was but a laugh.

I hugged her through the mobile line, as kindly as I could.

And loved her, held her, heard her,

standing by her through bad and good.

If you could reach out to this angel, what words of comfort and insight would you be able to share?

 

Dragons Don’t Win | [POETRY]

Do we each have the moral courage to stand up for those whom are bullied?

I promise to answer the call.

WILL YOU JOIN ME?

Dragons Don’t Win

Today I saw her spirit, crushed and tak’n away.

The Punisher thought it funny, to treat the girl this way.

The target of repression, he labeled her downcast.

And struck her with his names and stones, and with his fiery blast.

And to the silent, brittle girl, I lunged to take the fire.

To shield her from the dragon’s heat, to help the flames expire.

And all the dragon did, was turn and walk away.

Because someone stood up to the beast, and saved a soul today.

 

I’m Getting Her PTSD, Pt. 5 [POEM]

How do you relate to the people in your life with PTSD?

This post is part of a series of poems dedicated to my girlfriend. She has PTSD and severe anxiety and you will understand her story with each post. Each time I learn something about the mental conditions she lives with, I add a “part” to the series. Please read the previous verses. Each can be found at these links – Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, and Part 4 of her story and the lessons she’s taught me.

“In panic she runs, through her forested mind”

Running on Empty-

Heading towards “E”, one mile at a time,

The rubber is melting the road.

With her foot to the floor, and the gauge in the red,

She races to unburden her load.

The wraiths of panic, pursue her in flight,

Their talons are shredding her gown.

The harpies of terror, claw at her hair,

Knocking her down to the ground.

In panic she runs, through her forested mind,

Past triggers, closing too quick.

She can’t get away, not this time,

She’s stuck in the labyrinth; the crypt.

The branches slash, the thorns rape her skin,

And the rocks they bloody her feet.

She’s almost on empty, the tank’s almost bare,

She’s crumbling in fright and defeat.

And I catch up to her, pulling her close,

So she stops, and she looks up at me.

“I can’t do this. I won’t, and I quit.”

“Let me go. I just want to leave.”

And I let her crumble, and the tunnel opens up,

She’s so exhausted, and broke.

But she’s made it again, through the anxiety,

Such a spirit of resiliency and hope.

She’s grown on me, and taught me her life,

My mouth hangs open in awe.

For I’m getting her condition, her PTSD

I’m beginning to understand it all.

Thank you for reading the fifth installment of this series. Please pass it on to those who are surviving through PTSD, flashbacks, and anxiety.

 

Depression’s Gall [POETRY]

It crushes him and breaks him,

to the soil under his feet.

The Specter and the haunting,

that no one clearly sees.

It lacerates his rib cage,

and it takes his will to live.

It rapes his spirit of resiliency,

it crushes his limbs and hips.

It hobbles him and leaves him,

a catatonic shell.

He screams under the water,

in a drowning, tannic hell.

Hopelessness enshrouds him,

he cannot get away.

No strength to fight, or rise, or move,

this is his every day.

Thoughts on “Depression’s Gall”

Aside from the sculpture, Laocoön, The Dying Gaul is one of my favorites.

You can see the pain the warrior is enduring. You see the piercing in the warrior’s liver, possibly a coup de grâce?

You see the struggles of battle and the broken sword by his right hand.

You.

Feel.

His.

Pain.

I wanted to incorporate those feelings and emotions in my poem…

• How do I feel and those surviving through depression feel?
• What is the suffering like?
• What characterizes it for us?

Depression doesn’t care about its victims.

It chooses aimlessly and can strike at any time.

It is bold and impudent.

It. Has. Gall.

Do you survive with your depression? What are some words that you would add to this poem? Please share them with the rest of us in the Comments section.

 

I Typed A Letter [POETRY]

I sat down and typed a letter.

To a friend who’d gone away.

To remind him that he’s special.

To say I’m here to stay.

I know your life is full of strife.

And this you’ll know is true.

That where e’er your travels lead.

I’ll be standing there with you.

-Surviving the Specter

 

Hopefulness [POETRY]

Really felt someone needed to hear this today. Thank you for passing it on. X

A little thought of hopefulness

Went out for you today.

I see you’ve grown discouraged.

I’ve seen you’ve been away.

I miss you and I wonder.

If you really are okay.

And that I want to see you.

Perhaps we’ll talk today?

Maybe in a little while.

I can hear your voice.

To tell you that I love you friend.

Amidst the strife and noise.

I miss you and I wonder.

If you really are okay.

And that I want to see you.

Perhaps we’ll talk today.

 

Blank [POETRY]

“Blank”

Now you’ve gone and done it,

You’ve broken all his bones.

Your words were quite the perfect weapons

They crushed him like thrown stones

Now you’ve gone and done it,

You’ve slashed her mind to shreds.

Any hope of self esteem,

You’ve dashed down on the river bed.

I bet you’re pretty proud,

You heartless parasite.

To be the one to ruin minds,

To make them want to end their lives.

This will be your legacy,

How you’re remembered here.

Your stone will have no words,

Your life will disappear.

 

Jar of Emptiness [POETRY]

 

Primal Rage [POETRY]

 

“Hope is the Thing with Feathers”, Emily Dickinson [Poem]

---

To those having an unbearable night and struggling to survive through your mental condition. Take this poem of hope to bed with you. Thank you for sharing it with those whom you know need it right now.

---

 

Words from the Cutting Block [Poem]

---

---

 

Hope Stays [Poem]

---

I’ve been reading blogs tonight under the Suicide category and felt some survivors needed to hear these words. Praying for your peace at this difficult time my fellow warrior.

---

 

Doritos and Cream Cheese [Poetry]

---

Doritos and cream cheese

You’re perfectly right

A six-pack of Hoegarden

Red Box movie night

$2.50 rental,

Blue ray delight

You know that you want some

It makes “everything right”

Eating my depression

To the bottom of a red bag

Dipping in fluffy white

Wipe my fingers with a rag

I’m useless, she feels that

And I chomp down some more

Feeling the buzz

Feel a bum, feel a bore

I shut off the phone

Cuz I’m not as strong as I pretend

My words aren’t my actions

I have nothing to defend

So judge if you will

I can take it I guess

The Doritos and cream cheese

Will take care of the rest

---

 

The Race [Poem]

I enjoy writing and reading poetry. This is a lengthy poem but well worth the time spent to read it.

I used to not be able to read it without crying because of issues with my dad – feeling like I never measured up; always looking for his approval, etc.

Dad was a senior chief in the US Navy. A respectable, honorable man. A man who provided for our family and was faithful to my mom. He took our family camping and ate dinners with us. He brought us to church and cultivated a respect for women in my brother and I.

I guess this post is, in essence, letting go of the childhood resentment I had for my dad. We never really clicked for whatever reason. It’s still kind of a precarious relationship.

I remember my dad’s “depression” and sadness. He was never diagnosed with depression, but I see the manifestations with what I deal with in my own life. I see them more clearly after the research I’ve done into my own condition. I don’t have memories of him smiling or laughing.

Maybe it wasn’t him. Maybe it was my depression that clouded things? Made me feel shut out. Made my life gray. My dad was a good dad. He wasn’t perfect, but he always tried to do what was right…what was honorable. He was human. He was a man.

I remember writing a suicide note when I was in middle school. I had a razor blade on my desk and was going to end my life. My dad walked in and sat on my bed. “What are you doing?” he asked calmly. I told him what I was doing and he asked why. “Because I always let you and mom down” I replied. I don’t remember anything after that but for some reason I always struggled with my low self esteem for years. Yes, even now as a 41 year old man.

Anyways, once I started teaching high school I read this poem to my students on the first day of every school year. For nine years.

I’m not sure what the point of this introduction is but I hope this poem finds a place in your heart like it did mine.

I think I’ll call my dad today and tell him that he was a good dad, and that I love him.

I love you dad.

 

So whAt. [Poetry]

Thank you for taking time to read my notes here, as well as the poem. I hope they lend clarity to the design and the elements of style.

TITLE. I capitalized the letters in such a way so as to portray my disassociation with reality when I am in the throws of depression. When Specter has me in his grip.

DESIGN. The bleak, worn background speaks to my depression. I thought it would speak to the figure I wrote about in each verse. To each reader.

As usual, I had an image but decided to remove it so focus would be on making sense of the words, rather than how the image related to the words.

VERSES. I think this poem comes off as snarky and patronizing at first. I went out on a limb and kept it that way because I wanted the reader to make sense of it as they progressed.

For instance, the first two lines of each verse state a problem society might have with us (italics). A “harmless” comment made about how tired we look, or how we couldn’t handle something like everyone else.

Perhaps these are things we think. How many times have you and I felt like the speaker in the first verse? “This is not my day. I’ve never tripped so much in my life. WHAT’S THE MATTER WITH ME TODAY??!!”

================================================================

People never know what goes on behind our scenes. We deal with rejection by our parents; our own flesh and blood. We can’t sleep because the night terrors won’t go away. We are broken with the loss of a marriage. We each have our demons. We each have our skeletons. We each have our masks.

It is my hope that each of my readers may find a piece of themselves in these verses. And know that they are not alone.

Do you have a verse to add that reflects your experience with your mental condition (“illness”)? I’d love to see it added in the Comments section.

 

The Beast: A Poem on My Depression

Hi there. My name is Chris and I have lived with clinical depression since middle school. On the night of 9/14/14 I attempted to end my life but survived thanks to the quick actions of my close friends. This site is dedicated to both the topics of (clinical) depression and suicide awareness.

I wrote this poem in my journal around five years ago, and at a low-point in my marriage. My wife and I have since been separated for several years but this shows the stranglehold Specter had on me at the time.

The fourth verse was never finished but I wanted to publish what I had written is as, true to the day I wrote it. No changes.

For effect, I took my picture using the Zombie Booth app and used it here. I just now titled this piece, indicative of the way I felt when I wrote it.

I hope this makes others feel they are not alone in their valley. There are many other people in this world feeling what you are experiencing. Right now. At this very moment. Please hang onto that for hope, my friend.

May no one ever have to feel like this. May you find peace through the valley. I pray for your hope. Please reach out here if you feel full of despair. We look out for our own.

-Chris

 

I Thought of You [Poetry]

 

What My Depression Feels Like [Poetry]

I challenged myself to write about my depression at a point when Specter had me in his grip. I remember coming home and crashing on the couch and immersing myself into a flurry of red box movies for days. Totally useless. Hope some folks can relate and that you enjoy this piece of poetry.

And as always, may peace come to you through your valley my friends.

-Chris

 

I’m Getting Her PTSD. Pt. 3. [Poem]

How do you relate to the people in your life with PTSD?

This post is part of a series of poems dedicated to my girlfriend. She has PTSD and severe anxiety and you will understand her story with each post. Each time I learn something about the mental conditions she lives with, I add a “part” to the series. Please read Part 1 and Part 2 of her story and the lessons she’s taught me.

The Night Harpies of Terror-

The demons attack, when she’s sleeping at night,

I feel her twitching beside.

Their shredded wings spread, their chipped talons slash,

She always in terror to hide.

She awakens from choking, from a former attack,

That cut off the breath of her life.

And whispered to me to hold her tight,

So I roll over; I do what is right.

She cries silently, under muted sobs,

And doesn’t want me to hear.

Afraid that I’ll yell, or repeat it all,

I don’t blame her, from feeling her fear.

She lives in terror; an over shoulder attack,

That comes whenever it wants.

And I’ve learned to adjust, to help her with this,

She’s taught me to be the man that I must.

She’s grown on me, and taught me her life,

My mouth hangs open in awe.

For I’m getting her condition, her PTSD

I’m beginning to understand it all.

Do you have suggestions for supporting people with PTSD? Will you share them with us?

 

I’m Getting Her PTSD. Pt. 2. [Poem]

How do you relate to the people in your life with PTSD?

This post is part of a series of poems dedicated to my girlfriend. She has PTSD and severe anxiety and you will understand her story with each post. Each time I learn something about the mental conditions she lives with, I add a “part” to the series. Please read Part 1 and Part 3 of her story and the lessons she’s taught me.

Daggerous Words-

She came at me, in a tone that was harsh,

And I shut down and put up a wall.

I reinforced it with ego, and self centered-ness

I put up my guard, I let the gate fall.

I was angry, insulted, and wounded inside,

Her sticks and her stones had wounded my pride

I lashed back in defensiveness, with a little man’s heart,

I lost my bearing, I fell apart.

I fell short of the man, I needed to be

It wasn’t her, it was the PTSD

The years of bones that were broken and bruised,

The hate, and the lies, and the wrong.

Of kicks and punches, and choking and hate,

Is always present, ne’er gone.

Now she fights for her mind, and own sanity,

And I need to remember her will.

And support her with love, and uncommon valor,

And never say words that are ill.

She’s grown on me, and taught me her life,

My mouth hangs open in awe.

For I’m getting her condition, her PTSD

I’m beginning to understand it all.

Do you have suggestions for supporting people with PTSD? Will you share them with us?

 

“Good Father”, Prentice Powell [Poem]

I posted the wrong link yesterday. This will speak to you all, especially separated/divorced dads. May you have peace through whatever valley you are fighting through.

-CL

 

I’m Getting Her PTSD. Pt. 1 [Poem]

How do you relate to the people in your life with PTSD?

This post is part of a series of poems dedicated to my girlfriend. She has PTSD and severe anxiety and you will understand her story with each post. Each time I learn something about the mental conditions she lives with, I add a “part” to the series. Please read Part 2 and Part 3 of her story and the lessons she’s taught me.

History becomes Her story-

She’s a beautiful soul, trapped deep in her keep,

In a place she won’t let most inside.

So I’ve entered slowly and cautiously here,

Not breaking the trust she confides.

Her levels and layers, her pain and her hurt

Run as deep as the red in her blood.

And I sit and I listen, to all that she says,

Which comes from her core that is good.

She tells me of rape, of the breaking of bones,

And a tear glistens down over my cheek.

For I’ve known the warrior, the battle hardened victor,

Not imagining her soft soul so meak.

Sometimes she gets up, in the middle of the night

She says that it’s just too hard.

She’ll leave then apologize because she’s flashed back

I’m not angry, I’m honored ’cause she let down a wall.

We tell each other, “You get me.” “You understand who I am”,

And we hold each other tight.

And I’ll hold her and treasure her, ’til peace arrives,

And helps her sleep through the night.

She’s grown on me, and taught me her life,

My mouth hangs open in awe.

For I’m getting her condition, her PTSD

I’m beginning to understand it all.

Do you have suggestions for supporting people with PTSD? Will you share them with us?

 

It Might Have Been a Great Deal Worse [Poem]

 

Specter, Pt. 4

The Final Chapter

This is the final verse of a four part poem on Specter – the personification of my clinical depression and suicide attempt. Please read parts 1, 2, and 3 as well. This project was the result my friend’s inspiration. Thank you @Harry P. X. Frost @ theunrepentantwanderlust.wordpress.com

If you ride the waves, they will subside.

If you have lost hope, there are others in the same valley. Reach out. Share with them.

If you feel you are alone, there are those who will help. Let them carry you.

Good will prevail my fellow warrior.

Peace be with you as you survive through your valley.

-StS

 

Specter, Pt. 3

This is the 3rd part of my poem on my clinical depression, which I’ve personified as Specter. Please feel free to read the first and second parts.

 

Specter, Pt. 2

To read the first part of this poem, click here.

 

Specter, Pt. 1

NOTE: This post has references to suicide. If this is a trigger, please do not read it at this time.

The credit for this post is given to my friend, Harry P. X. Frost. He has a commanding skill with poetry and divides his verses into sections. I am borrowing his idea (hat tip Harry) to express what I felt like in my darkest hours. Specter is the personification of my clinical depression. Please visit Harry at his page – theunrepentantwanderlust.wordpress.com/

Thank you for the inspiration, HPXF.

 

“Little Words”