In the Shower

When I want to die, when I don’t want to be here, I take a shower. I turn the water all the way to hot. I let my skin turn bright pink. I cry, I die without dying. I stay until the water turn colds. I feel safe in the shower. I’m naked and vulnerable and that shouldn’t feel safe but it does.

In the shower is the only place I can’t hurt myself. It’s where the visions of ropes around my neck and knives on my skin and bullets in my head go to die.

If I take a shower, I can be safe. Safe from myself and my thoughts that I am 60% certain I don’t mean at all.

There should be a place between this life and the next. A place you can run to, like the shower, where you can be safe.

I just want to be safe.

Behind Closed Doors

Maybe you see her 

Smiling and calm 

Rocking in the hammock 

Or laying on the lawn

Maybe you see her

Doing the wash 

Or maybe the dishes

Or maybe holding a mop

Maybe you see her 

Fresh from the shower 

Or dressed to the nines 

In stilettos of power 

Maybe she’s singing 

And dancing around 

Rocking a baby 

Making lullaby sounds 

But what you don’t see

Behind all these scenes 

Is a broken heart dying 

Aching to be seen

You don’t see the hurt

She’s drowning beneath 

You don’t see the empty

Larger than the sea 

You don’t know how often 

She saves her own life 

Hiding from the thoughts 

While her tears fill her eyes 

Behind the smile 

Behind the words 

Behind the actions 

Behind closed doors 

Darkness

The morning comes to wake me

And remind me I’m alone 

That there is no one to comfort me

Against the world’s war zone 

As the cold air wraps around me

When I rise up from my bed

I push aside the feelings 

That make me ache for dead

I take a deep breath in 

And slowly let it out

I think of all the good things 

I’d never live without 

My daughter’s great big heart 

And the smile from my son 

They’re the greatest thing 

I know I’ve ever done 

I let the shower warm me

And massage away the ache 

The lonely that lives inside me

As another day I fake 

I’ll wipe away my tears 

Under the showers stream

I’ll remind myself I’m lucky 

That I never got my dream 

I throw on a little make up 

To hide the pain I feel 

I’ll put on my nicest outfit 

With the matching black high heels

As I drive to work

I’ll turn into the boss I have to be 

I’ll spend all day pretending 

That my world is as happy as I seem 

After work I’ll be the mom 

That everybody needs 

I’ll forget for just a minute 

That I’m lonely as can be 

When friends come around 

Or call me on the phone 

I hide from them sadness 

That is all I’ve ever known 

I’ll stay up past my bedtime 

Hoping exhaustion is the key 

But when I finally lay down 

Once again my heart will weep 

The darkness will greet my body 

And the hurt will start to grow 

Once again the lonely haunts me

And the tears begin to flow 

For no reason at all

Some days, just want to die. For no reason at all. I just get this dark cloud over me

What happened?

I’ve been fine. Life has been good. It’s been distracted. I bought a houses I fixed up a lot. This covid happened… but then I’m lucky.

But not tonight

I worked 15 hours today. I’m exhausted. I haven’t been sleeping well.

I just burst into tears – out of nowhere. I’m sad – hysterical crying because I’m just lonely.

And I’m not a lonely person – I LOVE.being alone…but lonely isn’t the same as alone.

I hurt tonight. All the good in the world and I’m devastated and hurt and sad.

Depression

“You don’t look depressed”

I hear that every day

But what the fuck does that mean

What are depression’s ways?

Depression isn’t always

Crying in your bed

It doesn’t always mean

You wish that you were dead

It means that your drowning

And at times don’t know why

You’re body aches from a hurt

You can’t see with your eyes

 

It’s a battle for your life

That you play everyday

Never really knowing

If today is okay

People with depression

Can paint a smile on their face

A master of disguise

Hiding the loneliest of place

 

If you wonder what it looks like

To lose the battle for your life

It looks so much like happiness

You’ll never see the knife

My Number

You have my number
And boy do you use it
Dialing it up
You outright abuse it

 

I’m head over heels
And you know what to say
To melt me like butter
And have me your way

 

You take your time
So I won’t suspect
We’re just a few moments
From weeks of neglect

 

You fill yourself up
On my strawberry wine
You drink yourself silly
On this love of mine

 

And when you are full
And when I am drained
You leave me alone
Feeling lost once again

 

Oh boy are you smooth
With your words and your game
Because I always come running

When you sound my name

 

When you call me up
I forget what you’ve done
I forget all the pain
I forget I should run

 

I just fall into you
I forgive what’s been done
Somehow you convince me
That this time I won

Cobblestone and Broken Glass

I’ve walked too far along the path

Of cobblestone and broken glass

Warily I carry on

Through the dark I walk ‘til dawn

With worn out soul and bloody toes

I’ve given up on going home

It’s not just a step or moment I see

But wasted time and long-lost dreams

Something strange about pain we know

It’s better than a life unknown

This is why I travel on

Always back to something gone

Relapse

Sinners smile
Angels cry
Once in awhile
Everyone lies
Rich in life
Rich in love
Different blessings
One from above
Darkness falls
Candles flicker
Sweetness fades
Life grows bitter
Battles fought
Mostly lost
Is it worth
The life it cost
Physical ache
Seeks out release
Blood from skin
Offers temporary relief
Bruised and battered
Where scars tend to hide
You long to give in
As good and evil collide
Silently sinking
Legs fold and collapse
You reach for comfort
In a bottle you relapse

Fucking Spaghetti

I cooked tonight – I know I know – hold your applause. 😂

Tonight I cooked spaghetti and homemade sauce. For the first time in two years.

After I moved in with my ex, he criticized me what felt like everyday. There was always something I did wrong or some way in which I wasn’t good enough.

I always cooked dinner. Even before we lived together. Often, because he worked second shift I would cook at my place and then he would call on his way home and I’d pack everything up, drive the 15 minutes across town and meet him so he could roll up to a hot meal. Before we lived together he didn’t say too much beyond thank you. Occasionally he would indicate that he thought I should cut something a different way or add another ingredient, but nothing major nor terribly hurtful.

But when we moved in, I never made another meal right – for 18 months every day I either made new things that “just weren’t good” or what I made was missing a seasoning or an ingredient or wasn’t spiced enough or was too spicy or was too basic. When I finally managed to have three meals that he didn’t criticize (after learning and following his exact instructions), he then complained I made them every week. Spaghetti was one of the three btw.

One Thanksgiving he suggested we pack up the food and bring it to the homeless. I thought it was sweet and caring. Later he told me he suggested it because the food was so bad that he didn’t want to have to eat it; my heart literally broke.

By the time I left my confidence in my ability to cook was shot. I didn’t want to make any food and I barely have since. But tonight, I made spaghetti. And now I’m crying. It actually tasted pretty good but cooking reminds me of being told every day how I’m not good enough.

Mental and emotional abuse is the worst.