Row Boat Escape

To run away, she rowed,
to leave it all behind.

The water splashed and flowed.
Trough the leaves, the sun did shine.

She found a place to stop.
Beneath a tree a seat.

Her final resting place.
Where her heart would lose its beat.

Urinal Sunflowers

22 missed calls –
Mom, Dad, Sister, Brother, Lover, Childhood Friends, Therapist.

It was a blur – the police – the hospital –
a million needles and a stomach pump.

The people I love finally found me
on an emergency room gurney.
I wanted them to leave.
I wanted to be dead.
And they were only there to remind me
that I should be alive.

Live for everyone else.
Who cares if the pain is unbearable.
You wouldn’t want to hurt anyone’s feelings.

Relief was granted when everyone went home for the night.

In the morning, he brought me sunflowers.
My favorite.
He presented them in a mason jar
to adorn my bedside table.

The nurse transferred them to a plastic urinal
so I couldn’t use the glass to put myself out of my misery.

And so began my journey into another forsaken day.

 

Psychward Epiphany

In the glow of the soft orange light
she sits, not quite alone.

Her thoughts, a roommate, and the unit’s nurses
to keep her company.

No way to dangle her body from the ceiling,
or shred her wrists to bits.

Her mind is tangled in an argument;
Get better vs. Stay sick – end it now.

Even when the pain is gone
It’s just hiding somewhere inside.

Waiting for its next attack.

Does she prepare for her next battle –
or surrender before it starts?

The tense muscles, clenched jaw, and shallows breaths are waiting for her.
Lurking in the shadows.

The piercing chest pain and evaporation of joy –
lay dormant in her bones.

The days where she can’t get out of bed, take a shower, or look her loved ones in the eye
are waiting for her.

What will provoke the monsters next time,
and how long will it last?

You are weak. Your fight is gone.

Let the urges carry you away on a bed of relief.

The universe has had its say –
You’re not welcome here anymore.

Victory!

Last night was difficult. I had made some poor choices a few nights before with an ex-boyfriend (the Duckter) and was feeling the regrets and loss of self worth that are the repercussions of such events.

Laying on my blue couch I felt the panic swirling in my chest, bulging out my eyeballs, and pumping through my veins. It was back. I had injected the poison into my system that caused me so many problems in the first place. I was so disappointed in myself, and I wanted to reverse everything that had happened.

I could feel my pulse pounding inside my body. In my temples, toes… and my wrist. I extended my wrist closer to my face so I could examine the life that was beating within. There it was, my radial artery. It was jumping up and down with such force that I could see it through my skin. The skin that was covered in scars that served as attempts to release some sort of pain or emotion when I was a teenager. It was mind boggling that a multitude of uneasy thoughts swirling around in my head could actually increased my pulse like this. How disgusting.

As I watched my artery that was fueled by and inappropriate fight or flight response dance around in my wrist, I could picture my good (sharp) cooking knife nestled next to my cutting board in the cabinet above the sink. I fought my impulses as my body tried to get up and fetch the knife. I new it just wouldn’t be a few cuts. I visualized myself crawling into my blue bath tub so I didn’t make a mess while I bled out. Suicide was nipping me at the ankles again.

I got up from the couch, bypassed the cabinet that contained the knife, and went to my closet to fetch my art supplies. I put on a movie, and began painting a ceramic bird I had picked up at the thrift store. At first I had to force myself to continue the project, but then I sank into it and my rushing thoughts started to dilute. Once I had finished painting my bird, I felt fine. Everything was ok. I wasn’t going to die after all.

I did it. I took care of myself with out drugs. I didn’t even pick up the knife to look at it or hold it. I can do this, and I’m figuring out new and better ways to cope. I can conquer this, always!