Saturday, April 29, 2017

Worthless Words?

Someone said that words are worthless.

"Give me action!"

What is life were a silent film? Every action overdone and exaggerated until we begged for those thoughtless syllables.
If words were worthless would mimes be kings? Or would we recognize that no matter how convincingly they pulled that "rope" it isn't really there?
Words are worthless? Words, our written and verbal histories, our treaties,  and our tombstones, no matter how declared or neglected affect our lives, our culture, and our world.
Words hurt and heal, lie and steal. But words aren't the only deceivers. Actions can be false.
Words can take one action and turn it into a hundred stories.
Words may be worthless
But I can afford them.

Friday, March 31, 2017


She is gone
And there are those who would fill her place with dark things
And replace her name with doubt
But we are still here
And we will nurse the flame that remains
And shine light to fight back the shadows
The message will not go with her and neither will the truth change.

Monday, March 27, 2017


you anesthetized me
with empty promises
cracked open my rib cage
and took all you desired
bits and pieces of my heart
and air from my lungs
and then
you vanished
without closing me up
so I ache for you
with every heartbeat
and I will never
catch my breath

Friday, March 10, 2017

Spiders in my Head

"There are spiders in my head.
Their webs muddling my words.
Keeping my dreams grounded
Like flightless birds"

(Written March 5, 2017)

I had a severe PTSD flashback the other night. I probably should have known something was coming because my nightmares had come back full force and I have felt so on "spiders in my head". I had been waking up for days and seeing a black figure over me or in the corner of my room. I would wake up screaming to my husband that he was in the house. I have also caught myself looking for him everywhere. And I mean everywhere. I looked for him in Panama City where I seriously doubt I'd fine him. Now after the flashback, I've seen his face for a few seconds before I'd realize my mind was playing tricks on me. It felt like ice in my veins.
The first few hours after the flashback I felt the force of it so strongly that it felt like I had been pushed through time, nine years, ripping my life to shreds. I wondered if I could go on. That's what PTSD can do. I know everyone experiences these things differently but I was back in a place where I felt like I was going to die, whether by my own hand or by his, I didn't know.
Now, I'm trying to come out of this fog. I'm trying to use all the tools I have to break out of this cage. I'm meditating, reading, talking about it, etc. I'm here writing this evening as a coping skill as well.
I feel like I'm floating in between 2008 and 2017. I'm afraid to be alone but I don't want to be around most people. This is the worst I have been since I started my recovery almost four years ago. The urge to self-harm is strong but I have been stronger. I've had to take time from working on projects that mean the world to me. My depression is trying to convince me that I have failed but I'm trying not to let it win. This is temporary, I know that. I will get through this, somehow. 
The only way to fail is to give up.