These are the things I no longer wish to understand.

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These are the things I no longer wish to understand.

Murder. The ease, for some people, to pull the trigger of a gun at an innocent victim. Sometimes, it’s worse. A cold expression on the face of a serial killer when recounting the grotesque details of each murder as if they were simply a tick-mark in a notebook. A simple disregard for a life.

Genocide. Manifest Destiny by a god or gods that deemed one people superior over others. Still, their god is ‘merciful’ they say. This imaginary being is somehow all good, but allows, nay, encourages the massacring over the earth. Sentient beings, slaying one another in the name of religion, politics, and misunderstandings.

Hatred. Assumptions made from doctored ‘research’. Opinions now held to the same standards as facts. Riots to preserve the ideology over science at the risk of violence. Petty differences blown out of proportion from the very same lack of knowledge that begets their ignorance in the first place. Encouragement from power to cause harm to others who do not conform to their beliefs. Fear of speaking out against the tightly-held beliefs of those in power for fear of harm or death.

Willful Ignorance. The cognizant choice to ignore facts, research, and data at the expense of challenging an ideology. Strong-held ‘beliefs’ that are so integrated into our being that our personality seems threatened if we simply adjust to new ideas. The personal attacks that some feel when presented with said facts and the verbal, sometimes physical, abuse that ensues. 

Silence. Stemming from fear, self-blame, victim-shaming – the eerie stillness that exists after abuse. Whether, physical, sexual, verbal, or psychological. Societal expectations for different sexes, races, and socioeconomic backgrounds. Words unspoken when dealing with mental health issues. Noiseless tears until they end by the smoking barrel of a gun or an empty bottle of pills. One less voice to speak.

Mental Health. Taboo thoughts directed at 1 in 4 people who will suffer in their lifetime. Comments that either fall on deaf ears, or exacerbate the problem. Victims believing that they are truly alone because of these remarks. Insurance companies only covering 12 visits to a professional therapist a year, if any at all. High costs of an hour of healing. Bankruptcy just to survive another day.

 

But… there is hope. In the vast darkness of the universe, stars dot the shroud of black. If we do not fall into the cycle of negativity, we can rise above these things and promote the good in the world.

These are the things I now understand. A perspective placed in my mind that I would not have conceived if not for the evil.

Charity. Whether food, money, or a smile. Those who give themselves entirely for no reward. Desirable reincarnation, eternal salvation, or simply to be good. Whatever the reason, it will not overshadow the selfless intent.

Life. Sentience. All beings, not just humans share this balanced globe. Each soul, a beauty in and of itself. Equilibrium between each delicate interaction of living beings. As an insect touches a flower, the mutual understanding and respect bring fruitful existence to them both. Although the plant remains in one spot, the insect is nourished and can spread the flower’s seeds throughout. A woman feeds her baby and continues her kin’s existence. Beautiful in different ways.

Knowledge. Although some may see this as a fault, I believe that knowledge is power. In the face of all this hatred and willful ignorance, facts will prevail. However, they are not spread as readily as misinformation, but evermore pertinent to us. For those who seek out the truth, take heart and do not fear revolt. Change is bubbling to the surface.

 

There is so much that we take for granted because we spend so much time focusing on the negativity fed to us from various outlets. Secretly, we may crave the bad as it makes our own lives seem less chaotic. Without the darkness, we could never see and appreciate the light. Stay positive, everything changes and nothing is in your control. 🙂

Confessions of an Empath

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My single hope is that this post softens the hearts of those who know an Empath. Perhaps, even bolster those who share this confusing gift. I hope you enjoy.

Emotion. Not exclusively human, rather, felt by all. Some suppress it, others allow it to take it’s course. Still, I find myself inhaling it all.

A wave washes me out into the sea of those around me. I am dizzy from the bombardment of the lapping water. Struggling to stay afloat while hearing the trifles of my friends echoing in my ears.

Suddenly, something grabs me. It’s twisted testicles circle up around my legs, tightening every second. I recognize it as familiar. It is, in fact, my own emotions. And immediately, I am drowned. Pulled into the depths of the abyss.

I try to breathe, but even this is hard. And yet, I still lend my heart to those around me. Few who say they are my friends use me then cast me aside. My generousity bleeds with a new wound and my trust dwindles a little less. I can hear their whispers in my head.

“You are nothing,” it says. Then, I hear it on my own lips.

I start to wonder how much more my soul can take. My body aches for the pain of others stronger each day. Genocide, injustice, hatred screams in my head. But that’s not all. My own life only cultivates this feeling of confusion.

Exhaustion overcomes me and I slump to the ground at the shore of my mind. I gasp for air until I can breathe once again. But it is short lived. My own life takes a turn and I am carried out to the sea to fight once again.

Time passes and I realize the gift. I step onto the beach and take in a breath of fresh air. I surround myself with those who do not decay my bones, rather build them up. They are beautiful, scarred souls like mine. It feels kindred.

Each day I take my battered soul and gently lay it before me. Numerous scars from past and present battles covering it. Almost unrecognizable. There are those who may laugh at the sight. Others, may find it grotesque.

But still, a smile stretches across my face. For it is these scars that give me strength. Darkness cannot overtake me, no matter how long I battle. I understand that only those like me, who truly feel the tears of others, can battle such evil.

We are warriors, brothers and sisters. We are given this gift because we are strong, not weak. Our soul mates need us daily, and friends will need us too. Remember, though, take care of yourself first. For without understanding and rejuvenation, we will wither into dust.

Do not see this as a curse. Darkness is not always something to fear. It is part of life and it gives us true appreciation for all that is light. We were chosen, not only to fight the darkness in our own lives, but others as well. And not just by hearing the cries or anger of those around us, but by feeling it stronger than we thought was imaginable.

Take care, my fellow Empaths. Know that you need not walk the path alone.

Writing Toothless 9/10/2018

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July 17, 2018 – 2:34AM

Why are there no 24 hour dentists? If I had the schooling, I would open up one. But people’s teeth… ew… but the blood… well, that’s my forte.

Can you guess what I do for a living? I bet you can’t. You probably can’t even guess how old I am just by looking at me. I get compliments all the time. Me and my friend both do. Lysanna and I go to the pubs at night and get hit on the entire time. Most of these guys would not be hitting on us if they knew how old we really were.

Have you guessed it yet? Unfortunately, my secrets will remain forever here, in my diary. How I desperately want to tell those around me what I truly am. The legends are true! Scream it from the top of my apartment building. We’re real! We exist! Please don’t be afraid… or maybe they should. Not all of us are good. Hell, I don’t even know whether I would consider myself an angel among men, as they say.

Okay, if you haven’t figured it out yet, then you really must be stupid. I’m a vampire. Yes, I know that we aren’t supposed to be real. We are. I am. There are quite a few of us, but you would never know just by looking at us. Paleness, sure. I get crap all the time from people about ‘getting sun’. Like, DO YOU KNOW WHAT THAT WOULD DO!? A small mushroom cloud would form over the ashy remains of my body. And I’m 976 by the way, but I look like I’m 18, maybe 20. Getting alcohol is practically impossible sometimes. Providing a birth certificate or Social Security number isn’t going to happen. My birth certificate would give me away. They would laugh. I ended up getting a fake ID to fix that problem.

So back to my current issue. As I’m sure you know, vampires drink blood and sometimes that comes from animals, other times, humans. Lysanna and I try really hard not to drink human blood. Too fatty. But sometimes people who know what I am are willing to give a donation.

One of the people that donates regularly didn’t show up one day. Texted me and said that he had a family emergency. Well I was already feeling lethargic by that point, so I was desperate. Another vampire told me, once, that drinking Cranberry juice was supposed to hold us over for a few extra hours until we could feed. Problem was, they didn’t specify how much to drink. Second problem was, I was hungry as hell.

I stockpiled on gallons and gallons of juice until Lysanna could get home from her job at the mortuary with some animal blood for me. It was about 10PM by the time I got home with it all. Drank all of it within the next few hours. My stomach never hurt so much… good thing I’m immortal.

Apparently my teeth aren’t though. Cavity. A huge one right on one of my canines. GREAT!!! It hurts like no other pain I’ve experienced and I almost forgot what pain feels like. Because I am a ‘night owl’ and not by choice, Lysanna suggested that she pull out my tooth with pliers. Screw that! But it hurts so bad.

And that, diary, is how I am pretty much the only vampire I know that has a one-puncture-wound bite. For the record, Cranberry Juice doesn’t do anything and I won’t make that mistake twice. I was stupid for thinking that it would and I guess I deserve what I got. Anyway, Lysanna is almost home and it’s time to go out on the town again! I’m going to tell people I got into a bar fight and lost my tooth that way. Think anyone will believe me???

 

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For National Suicide Prevention Week

Writing Prompt

What a perfect writing prompt for the upcoming Suicide Prevention Week! September 9th through the 15th is quickly approaching, so I wanted to do something in regards to that.

 

***WARNING: THIS POST TALKS ABOUT VERY PERSONAL SUBJECTS (DEPRESSION AND SUICIDE. PLEASE DO NOT READ IF THIS MAKES YOU UNCOMFORTABLE***

 

This is my story. I’m sure that my outcome is not typical, simply based on the speed of recovery. However, my hope is that I inspire someone who may be struggling with Depression or suicidal ideology to seek help. That has always been my goal – increasing awareness of Mental Health issues as well as speak out for those who do not feel capable of doing it themselves.

I am a survivor. For a good 10 years of my life, I suffered from Mild to Moderate Depression. However, because I did not know that the feeling of worthlessness was abnormal, I did not know that I needed help. Perhaps it was the fact that I was only Mild-Moderate and I was able to semi-function that I did not say anything to anyone. Maybe it was just the Depression itself that kept me from asking for help. Whatever the reason, I suffered for years.

While I don’t think that it had anything to do with my parents’ divorce, I believe that the resulting lifestyle from that sparked it. Even they will admit that the divorce was not an easy one. Also, I was bullied relentlessly in school, especially high school. Long story short, I did not have a ‘safe place’ for me to de-stress. I felt a sense of toxicity in the two places in which I spent most of my time – work and home.

Suicidal ideology transformed into a few attempts in my teenage years. Up until recently (almost ten years after I finally got help), I did not feel comfortable discussing the fact that I was very close to ending it all. I was in a very dark place and I wondered whether it would be better if I no longer existed. It wasn’t like I had many friends. Part of me was even under the impression that my ‘friends’ were only using me or that they pretended to like me. I believed that everyone was talking about me behind my back.

In high school, I had three rumors going around about me at one time. 1. That I was pregnant. 2. That I self-harmed. And 3. That I was a Satan worshiper. Being that I was in a private school, the third one ostracized me further. I was the ‘Goth’ kid in a place where everyone was preppy. Truly, I felt alone. None of these rumors were true, but people would come up to me and ask to see my arms to make sure I wasn’t cutting. It was embarrassing and demeaning. The school knew about it and did nothing.

My grades began to suffer tremendously. I never felt motivated to do homework or even to show up to class. Each year, I stayed home more than the allotted days and would walk through the halls at work like a zombie when I was present in school. Sophomore and early Junior year was when I made attempts at my own life. Luckily, I am still here today.

At that point in my life I was fed up. My school counselor called me a liar when I told her that my grades were starting to improve because the teacher had not updated assignments and she only saw the grade that was available. They refused to put me in the yearbook Senior year because, when I got my Senior pictures done, my hair was blue, purple, and pink. The teacher only decided to tell me this with a 2 week notice. So, I’m not in the yearbook that year. Not to mention, someone I knew in the Yearbook class said that the teacher was upset that I didn’t get my photos redone although other students were not depicted in the book along with me.

I finally exploded. I told my counselor that I was literally going to kill myself if I did not get help. It was a burst of anger and confidence to finally talk about how I had felt on a daily basis for so long. The darkness had become a part of me and I was done letting it take over my life. I wanted to feel happy again. I didn’t want to dread waking up and the daylight hours. I wanted to enjoy my life.

My dad was kind enough to turn around on the highway on his way to an out of town work event and take my sister and I to therapy. In only 1.5 years, I was given a new chance. I did a complete 180* in a short amount of time. Turns out, all I needed was proper coping techniques in addition to the self-esteem to love myself for who I was. I would never have been able to help myself in the way that my therapist helped me. And that, my dear readers, is why I think that therapy is so vital to the healing process.

Because of my experience, I went to college and received a Bachelor’s of Psychology. I was awarded Psychology Student of the Year at my Community College in 2013, made the Dean’s list every semester (Community College & University), received a scholarship for academics, and even became a Research Assistant at my University. My goal is to help, however I can, to raise awareness for the insensitivies towards Mental Health in America. By squashing myths and educating the general public, I can hopefully reduce the stigma and taboo associated with suffering from a Mental Illness. Hopefully my books will give me enough popularity that I can spread my voice over a wider audience.

Fast forward to today. I am 26 years old and finally feel like I can fully love myself. My life has changed so much. I have a beautiful daughter and I am confident I am on the right path with my life. There will be some drastic changes in my life soon, but I feel freer!

This, readers, is a seemingly bad situation that turns into a life change. Never be afraid of who you are and what you struggle with. You are NOT alone. If you feel like you cannot life another day, know that there are others who are on the same path. YOU CAN BE A PHOENIX AND RISE FROM THE ASHES!

I hope this inspired some of you to write your own story. If you feel comfortable, comment with your own bad situation that turns into a positive life change. Spread the love!

Poetry: The Spoken Senses

I know it’s short, but it was something I wrote over lunch 🙂

 

One who walks through fire can feel a kindred spirit,

Someone who is broken can feel another broken soul.

An experience, indescribable with words, unyielding with emotions,

Yearning for solace in the chaos and the pain.

 

But everything shifts in a mere embrace,

Chaos dissolves and pain subsides.

An unspoken understanding that love will win

In the space between the scars.

 

Invisible chains restrain us into our pasts,

Pulling, tightening with each new breath.

But soon the bonds release us,

It breaks, we fall.

 

That is when the chains are caught by one another,

Fusing together in an unbreakable weld,

They serpentine and embed into the skin

Painlessly, almost pleasantly.

 

Lingering in the wonderment and bliss

Of something as simple as an embrace.

Between two battered people, injured souls.

Perhaps one could live in this forever?