Easy

It was hard for a while

for a long, long while

then it was easy.

But it wasn’t that easy

to get to Easy.

It took years

long, insufferable years,

exhaustion, but persevering

and then it was easy.

The smile wasn’t

forced

anymore.

And there’s still bad days

there will always be bad days

but they don’t seem so bad

when I know

the good days will be back.


Getting Over It

It took nearly ten years of being miserable

and much too hard on myself,

but it’s been twelve months now and it’s safe to say

I’ve beat the devil inside me.

It happened when I decided it was time.

I was done living a life of despair,

claiming the world was out to get me.

I took a year.

I learned who I am and what my limits are,

I set boundaries when I had my low tides,

I didn’t beat myself up when I got sad,

I treated myself the way I’d treat an injured dog or child.

I was gentle, careful not to hurt further,

and now I’ve got all these coping skills.

I’ve got all these ways I can survive 

without falling into a pit of depression yet again.

I’ve got a lot to show for it

but most of all,

I’m just glad I’m myself for what feels like the first time.

That early morning dew smell

7:21 am.

Window slightly cracked,

a cool breeze passes

and I awake.

The smell of dew

and birds chirping

make me feel something

I haven’t felt in a while.

I never wake up this early,

but my window outlooks the east

and I can see the sun rising-

it’s beautiful,

almost enough to keep me awake.

I haven’t written in a month,

it’s been a tough summer,

but there’s something about 

cool summer mornings.

I don’t feel so broken.

cowritten by my middle school self

Despair cloaked in irony,

layers of deep seeded anguish

behind a joke, a one-liner

designed to fool anyone who listens.

I smile while I lie to their faces.

With the laughter,

the one form of acceptance I know,

it’s like you want me to lie more.

What am I if not a joke and a grin?

When the jokes stop, so do your invitations,

when I can’t bring myself to keep up the facade,

you’ll leave just like they all have.

It’s not pretty, it’s an art

the way it’s all so goddamn predictable.

They ask questions that fuel their own self doubt

because they need to do better than me,

but all I ask is

what does that achieve?

where did the sun go

Sitting in a dimly lit room,

the light went out a week ago

and it’s rainy and foggy today.

The rain carries from outside

to deep within my soul,

creating puddles in my chest,

a type of flooding only possible

when it’s rained relentlessly for weeks.

Doctors and meteorologists 

don’t know when the rain will stop,

but they assure us it will.

It’s a strange comfort when

you know the rain will end,

but you have no idea when.

It’ll come unexpected,

you won’t be sure at first.

“Is that the sun

peering through the clouds?”

And it is. 

And it is beautiful.

hey, maybe that’s too harsh.

I catch myself before it’s too late. It’s probably a talent. I catch myself thinking, “stupid, stupid, stupid” because I forgot to do that one thing I said I would do. Mid self deprecating thought I stop and go, “hey, maybe that’s too harsh.”

I find myself doing this all too often, and it usually is a sign that I’m falling into a pit of depression yet again. If I catch myself soon enough, I can manage to escape that deep, dark pit of emotional turmoil that is a depressive episode and continue on as a normal human. Sometimes, more often than I’d like to admit, I don’t realize it until I’m a month deep, surrounded by isolation and self-destructive tendencies.

I find myself laying on my floor at 1 am, lights off, listening to a playlist of mopey songs singing about how terrible everything in their lives are. It’s usually in a moment like this that I come to the realization of, “oh, right. I’m depressed again.”

I’ve been down so many times, I know how to deal with it. When you’ve been depressed for nearly a decade, coming out of a depressive episode becomes a regular practice. Everyone’s brain works differently, but for me that’s usually taking a day or two for myself. I’ll do whatever it is I want to do that day and not feel guilty for it. Because once you’re that deep in it, you should not feel guilty for taking a day to just watch your favorite feel-good show on Netflix or sit outside with a cup of tea and watch the wind blow through the trees.

Coming out of it isn’t always a pretty sight, either. It takes time, just like it took time to fall into it. I’ll catch myself along the way isolating or overreacting and I just take a step back and rewire my brain into Positivity Mode again.

Down again

It’s not that I have no one who cares,

it’s not that no one would comfort me in a moment of despair,

it’s the overwhelming feeling of not being able to reach out

in fear of being too much or an inconvenience.

I don’t want to burden anyone with my depressive episode;

when I’m sad, no one should have to deal with me than me.

They tell me I’m not a burden, that they really do love me,

but when I’m so deep in a pit of self-loathing depression,

it’s hard to believe anyone could ever care enough.

These fits of depression come out of the blue full force sometimes,

it’s not always easy to catch before I’m lying on the floor at 2 am,

headphones in, lights off, self-deprecating thoughts accumulating rapidly.

I want to believe I’ve gotten better at catching myself before it’s too late.

Some days are harder than others,

but I know I’ll pick myself up again.

I’ll survive this no matter how hard it gets,

I won’t let this sadness swallow me whole.

When the sun shines, I’ll let it

and when the rain comes, I’ll bring an umbrella.