Sitting alone trying so hard to understand my life and how this came to be. Searching for someone to understand how living with this emptiness feels to me. Living so alone missing so many memories not knowing which way I should go. Why can’t someone help me find my past a past that I know had hurt me so.
Why can’t someone turn the key and unlock the terrible secrets buried deep. Please can’t you find all the missing pieces and return my memories for me to keep. No one should live in darkness wondering what had happen or how their life was shaped. These missing years were mine and mine alone and not for someone else to so cruelly take.
I walk alone down a path of darkness with fireflies casting little drops of light. But then there are so many secrets scattered on the pathway hidden from my sight. It’s all so overwhelming trying to stop all the thoughts that scream inside my head. There are no answers for me just pain and confusion trying to sort out the life I lead.
I know from what I can remember my path has been filled with much hardship and pain. I know I seen many days of sunshine but mostly I have faced the bitter cold and rain. What did they do to me that caused me to hide and protect myself by blocking out the past. Without knowing all these answers I know my need to search will remain and my pain will always last.
I need someone to take my hand and walk with me for I must never be alone. Although I need and want to find these missing years I must not do it on my own. This lost and innocent woman needs someone when the past resurfaces to dry her falling tears. So please come and let me lean on you and walk slowly while I search for my missing years.
©KathBaiR ……From Lost of Innocence
What if I told you that I was professionally diagnosed with all my symptoms and it really pisses me off that you people who are having a bad month and wants pity will self diagnose yourself with depression, anxiety disorder and even PTSD?
Do you really think that its great having those illnesses and it makes you look cool? Ask someone who was diagnosed by a doctor to have these illnesses if they feel cool or want pity.
What if I told you it hurt me and insulted me every time you say I’m so depressed when all you are feeling is down over something that happen?.
What if I told you about a day when my depression is at its worst and how my day would go, would you even care?
My day begins when I awake at 4am with a million thoughts consuming my mind and still tired because I didn’t really get any sleep except for a few times my sleeping pill left me to choice but to pass out. So I get up so I won’t wake my husband and toss and turn in the guest room for two or three hours until my husband gets up to go to work.
Then I go back to my bed and watch the news or check out Facebook until 11am. Then I will get up with my PJs on and wash my face and go out into the living room and close all the blinds my husband had opened before he left for work and sit until I am forced by the dropping of my glucose to get something to eat. I will go back to bed several times that day and get a bath where I lay there on really bad days and like I said before think about being dead. I don’t think about killing myself all the time mostly just the thought in my head how death wouldn’t be so bad.
Shortly before my husband gets home I will try to look as nice as anyone can with PJs still on at 4pm, sometimes I will open the blinds again and prepare a meal.
On these days when I am feeling at my worst my husband will usually come home with some take out food and we will eat and then go lay on the bed where I will put my head on his shoulder and he will tell me about his days and I will tell him about mine and then he will tell me all the reasons why he loves me and how I am the most wonderful person alive because I will say “tell me baby”. He will tell me how sorry he is that I have to live with pain and depression and I will tell him how being with him makes me fight everyday of my life so I can have more good days than bad and give back to him when he’s in need of comfort and encouragement.
What if I told you that was my depression
Yes I have been diagnosed with all of the above and yes I suffer with it every day of my life but you don’t really want to hear that do you?
You would rather I didn’t talk about it and the reason I am like what I am because that way you wouldn’t have to think about it or show me any compassion. You would rather I didn’t embarrass everyone by acting like someone who has a mental illness and just say I am in pain so therefore I get down sometimes.
How would it make you feel if I told you the reason I am like I am and have a mental illness is because I was psychically and mentally abused for over thirty years?
What if I told you that P.T.S.D means this; Post-traumatic stress disorder (PTSD) a mental health condition that’s triggered by a terrifying event either experiencing it or witnessing it?
What if I reminded you that I live with chronic pain every day of my life now and just three minutes before the photo below was taken, I lay in the tub and thought about suicide
What if I told you that last week I thought about suicide too and played out the scenario in my mind of how me being gone would affect certain people?
What if I told you I don’t want to die and neither do most of the people that have considered or already taken their life?. What if I told you what we want is understanding and extra care in a world that have treated us with such cruelty? We don’t need to hear “oh it happen years ago your safe now so be happy” or to be told that we are just seeking attention. You may not be able to save everyone not even half but.
What if ?