Contemplative Confessions: The One I Loved

Contemplative Confessions: The One I Loved

You.

You’re the only girl I ever loved.

With you, I felt like I could be myself. No games to play, no pretending to be interested in things I didn’t care for, no tiptoeing around certain subjects for fear of offending you. No, with you, I was me, the me few know.

Conversation, interaction, attraction — effortless.

Even when we fought it became a battle of wits, and you were a worthy advisory. Despite the distance, we never lost contact, and I tried to make it work.

To a point, it did.

In different circumstances, we would have been together.

But.

You didn’t love me. Because you wouldn’t do the crazy thing to make it work. You stayed practical, measurable, all business, like a CEO, ironic that was your dream job.

Yet even with that knowledge,  You didn’t want to let me go, you loved the fantasy, you kept up the mysticism of how we stayed in touch — for a while.

And yet, you didn’t want to see what could have been.

Maybe you were scared, maybe you just saw it to a certain point. I guess I’ll never know, nor do I care to.

You moved on. I moved on. It’s over. Whatever fantasy or dream either of us had has dissipated in the realms of reality.

You told me recently you don’t like thinking of what could have been — that’s fair.

Personally, I think it could have been great, but I accept the shroud of falsehood beckoned but never fulfilled.

You are no longer the pedestal I hold every other woman up to, because a pedestal’s bound to wither and break.

Consciously, I was over you quickly, but subconsciously, you still haven’t left. You probably never will, but that’s ok.

To trash you would ignore what you did for me. You showed me I don’t have to run from who I am.

In this new incarnation of myself — I’ve never felt better. Through the storm, I’ve found the sun and can finally move past you, for real this time, continuing my path with new eyes of perspective.

A Night of Coping

A Night of Coping

It started with a drink.

One drink to loosen up.

To ignore the annoyance.

To take the pain away.

 

It started with a drink.

Two drinks to let go.

To drown out the noise.

To move on.

 

It started with a drink.

Three drinks to have fun.

To interact with the crowd.

To lighten my mood.

 

It started with a drink.

Four drinks to forget.

To erase unpleasantness

To feel whole again.

 

It started with a drink.

Five to blow up.

To lash out.

To force violence.

 

It started with a drink.

Six to breakdown.

To realize what’s been done.

To hate myself.

 

It started with a drink.

Too many to count.

To lose my surroundings.

To take the pain away

 

It started with a drink.

There’s none left.

A night shattered.

Latched in regret.

To take the pain away.

Contemplative Confessions: Hindsight

Contemplative Confessions: Hindsight

You.

I’m sorry.

You didn’t deserve my games.

It’s out of my nature.

To this day I wonder why I did it.

Why I lashed out.

Why I got so intimate mentally only to pull away.

I’m sure it was difficult on you.

If I could go back, I’d do things differently.

I’d give you a chance.

But that time has passed.

You moved on and so have I.

Would I be up for another try?

Yes.

But do I deserve that?

No — I don’t.

I think its human nature to wonder what could have been. God knows I’ve had several chances with you and still something inside held me back. I was looking for perfection, but that doesn’t exist.

Left to my own devices, I feel some sort of regret.

I do believe everything in life happens for a reason, and I believe me not reciprocating your feelings was what fate decided.

But I still don’t see why I didn’t just give it a try.

I guess the lesson’s learned through the casualty of experience.

You’re the first girl I hurt, but probability says you won’t be the last.

I guess the hurt’s come full circle at the possibility I denied and the path I refused to cross.

 

Contemplative Confessions: To the confounding communicator, or lack thereof:

Contemplative Confessions: To the confounding communicator, or lack thereof:

You,

I don’t hate you. Hate’s a strong word, I couldn’t possibly think in such a destructive way.

But I don’t like you.

I did at once.

Ok, that’s not true either, you just drove me crazy. The ambiguous nature of your actions, the silence locked in your lips, the lack of awareness, care, empathy, understanding and overall obliviousness to the back-and-forth plight you put me through.

Charming, to say the least.

Sarcasm aside, your negativity drew me in. Maybe it’s because my brain’s naturally wired to embrace the cynic. I still don’t know what you wanted from me. If I had to guess, I think you just liked playing with me and enjoyed the entertainment. I’m a clown at heart, but that’s the only side you ever embraced.

I can’t completely blame you, I fell for the game hook line and sinker.

My friends knew something was up, but I didn’t heed their advice, my interest was piqued. I couldn’t figure you out and I refused to accept it.

I dug for something more under the shallow surface in vain.

But who am I to say that’s all you are. The truth is I don’t know you, I thought I did. To me, you embodied a fantasy, but my vision detracted from the reality. I’ve accepted this. I’m moving forward. I have much more important things to deal with than you.

But tell me this?

Why do you continue to linger in my life? I think you miss the clown. Sorry, but I’m not performing for the ones that constrict me to a box.

Even if the audience is beautiful.

 

Clinical Depression is not “being sad”: A transitional introduction

Clinical Depression is not “being sad”: A transitional introduction

 

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@svetz17

“You just need to buck up.”

“Get over it.”

“Quit whining.”

“Move on.”

“Be happy.”

You’ve heard at least one of these clichés in your life during times of strife and discourse.

Situationally, these cliches can hurt in the moment regardless of the problem weighing you down. Whether it’s trouble in a personal relationship, career trajectory, grief or even just the simple “bad day,” we all hurt. Due to the melancholy surrounding  you during these times, people just want you to “get over it.”

And you do.

Life goes on. You work out the personal relationship, change career paths, get through the grieving process and rebound from that one bad day. However, for people with clinical depression, these everyday challenges can become substantially more difficult to overcome because their mind actively fights to maintain the low and continue the pessimistic view.

I know this because I was diagnosed with clinical depression at the age of 11, but I can think back to feeling different and unhappy during preschool.

Depression is a universal trait that any living thing can succumb to. Many people experience tough times leading to situational depression, which can be worked out over time. Eventually, they get over the issue and move forward. Clinical depression comes from hereditary genetics, but doesn’t fully manifest itself unless a trauma occurs, usually during childhood or adolescence.

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My trauma isn’t abuse or a bad family life, I’ve lived a comfortable life and my parents have been incredibly supportive of my endeavors.

My trauma was knowing I was different compared to my peers as early as five years old. That feeling of isolation and alienation that sets in when you aren’t like every other five year old and teachers don’t think you’re “normal” because you aren’t mindlessly enjoying being a kid can be quite detrimental to your self-esteem and self-worth.

It creates a chemical imbalance in your brain that makes you attracted to negativity, sarcasm, cynicism and skepticism. Additionally, it pushes your view to focus on the negative and take less light of the positive subconsciously. It also leaves you susceptible to falling into feelings of hopelessness, low self-worth, low self esteem, sadness and suicidal thoughts due to the inability to see things getting better. But, it blesses you with a unique and enigmatic perspective. It grounds you in reality and strengthens your analytical view, insights, critical thinking and makes you challenge what constitutes “normal.”

While everyday challenges can become more difficult due to the chemical imbalance and pessimistic-leaning perspective, it can be managed. When controlled, mental illness fosters great creativity and other desirable traits.

 

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With that, I want to bring you into the mind of the clinically depressed.

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I want to help eliminate the stigma surrounding it and show with proper therapy, medication and coping skills how a unique perspective to challenge the world can be a blessing. I’m not saying I speak completely for everyone afflicted, but, I hope with a combination of perspective writing, poetry, short fiction and reflections I can improve understanding and showcase the different thought processes and viewpoints someone with clinical depression has to the everyday interactions of life while also expressing my joys, hopes, frustrations and fears with the world authentically. Hopefully, my writing shows others afflicted with clinical depression and other mental illnesses that they aren’t alone and there are people who feel the same way they do and have been there before.

Who I am has a lot to do with how my perspective differs from many due to clinical depression, essentially it’s an identifying trait that dually curses and blesses me.

The truth is, normalcy is all in perspective and it’s time to let you into our “normal.”

I’ll also touch on stigma and viewpoint of mental illness as a whole to demystify and improve understanding towards mental illness. Clinical depression is not “being sad,” it’s a unique perspective that happens to lean towards pessimism. When untreated, it can become overwhelming and destructive, but when monitored and treated, the depressed change and challenge our world.

If I still feel like I can’t comfortably circle on a job application that I have a mental illness or can’t openly admit to having a mental illness without fear of stigma, or even worse—pity, than despite the growing understanding and acceptance of depression and other mental illnesses, there’s still work to be done.

 

 

Enveloped By The Rock Bottom

Enveloped By The Rock Bottom

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I think it’s time to go.

I’ll play Russian roulette with the excess.

Understanding is meaningless. Winds of change have proceeded to push me to this avenue of solitude.

An embodiment of an enigma in a world restricted.

I wasn’t supposed to be here long.

I am but a visitor. Shackled to teach, a life not lived, and the comfortable numbness of the living representation of humanity.

Through the dark corridors of my mind lie the damning thoughts consuming my being.

Explaining the process creates confusion and disillusionment.

Accept fate.

Imprisoned by my dreams and haunted by nightmares, I lay here numb. A horror worse than melancholy.

While a temporary sentence, I’ll never leave the confines.

Accept fate.

Normal remains unattainable.

But fearless I am through the trial.

As the jury deliberates on what’s to become of me.

I laugh. I’m at peace. I know this will pass.

But in the end, I.

Accept fate.

 

 

Embrace The Awkward

Embrace The Awkward

Too many times our society predicates itself on people being cool or smooth. Sometimes it seems like the only way to come off desirable or accepted is through limiting our natural ways.

Or to better put it, our awkwardness.

Suppressing the screw ups and mishaps of everyday life won’t make you happy. For me, I’m as awkward as can be. I spill everything, have no filter and regularly find myself in uncomfortable situations. For the longest time, I tried to fight it. I started acting like the cool people in high school and it made me lose track of who I was. It took a while for me to notice, but eventually I realized I wasn’t happy. You can’t change who you are, and doing so results in confusion and restlessness.

It wasn’t until this year I finally accepted who I was and embraced the awkward.

A funny thing happens when you’re comfortable with yourself. Life becomes less of a chore and interactions stay natural. Laughing at yourself makes you feel at ease and improves your sense of purpose.  It’s a unique quality to show off something society considers a deficiency.

Don’t compromise yourself for anyone else. When you accept what you are, your confidence soars.

Next time you slip and fall to the ground, get up and laugh. Who cares?! Go on about your day and smile. The next time you say something inappropriate, step back and be like “shit, my bad” and move on. In the end, we are all awkward to some type of degree. Let’s show it off as a strength rather than sulk over it as a weakness. Because removing the negative stigma of awkward lets you embrace who you are.

When you do that, you’ll finally feel comfortable — even with a mustard stain on your shirt.