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Life mental health poetry Uncategorized

(Re-Blog)Only If I Could! – A Poem (Part – 1)

I was so touched by this piece I just had to share it. It’s heart wrenching and sad in an all too familiar way. The tears fall freely each time I read this but for me it encouraged hope and healing and understanding that we are not alone. We don’t have to fight alone, we can hold each others hands for this long and difficult journey. Stay well my friends.

Thank you to http://aratibanstola.wordpress.com for allowing me to re-blog this and for sharing her heart with us.

Rtistic

Drawn and edited by me.

This time I’ve chosen to write a poetry about a very sensitive and serious issue, that is ‘RAPE’. I know it’s quite a long one, but I’ve written it with all my emotions, portraying myself as a clock hanging on the wall and narrating the story of a young girl in the room.


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Life mental health Uncategorized

A Hard and Honest Moment

This has been sitting in my drafts for a little bit. Originally when I wrote it I felt that I should not go through with posting it. Then I thought, heck with it. It’s real and I’m far from perfect. Back and forth I went not knowing what to do with it. I still feel I shouldn’t put it out there but I sit here knowing that in the end I will push that publish button. Sure, I may have family that might read it, or a co-worker that might see it, but like I said, it’s real and I don’t like fake. So as you read this (IF you read this) please know that we all have our struggles, or weaknesses and our secrets. But we are ALL worthy of forgiveness and His love. If you are struggling with any addictions or mental health, PLEASE reach out and talk to someone. You’re worth it and you ARE loved! -Ang

To start this off, I want to add a paragraph from a past post in case someone didn’t read it. I want you to have more of an understanding where this post originated and my feelings going into it. I want you to have a little background if you don’t know me or my story. Also, when I go off on a tangent I rarely get all I want to say out, I often miss important things, and I hardly ever fill in all the blanks So please, if I seem callous and uncaring, that’s not the whole story lol.

“My biggest struggle by far has been my workplace. When they implemented mandatory masks for employees and customers this meant that each time I worked I fought back those anxieties and all the trauma shit that come with it. It is exhausting to have to find a way to do my job, deal with customers yelling and threatening (another big trigger for me), my own mental health including the panic attacks that were incurring constantly due to all the triggers and extra stress…I was a mental mess. I still am, to be honest. I’m finding it very hard to cope with it all.”

I’ve been struggling with the need to drink again. Not gonna lie, I’ve allowed myself to give into those urges on more than a handful of occasions. Am I proud of that? No. Am I ashamed of it? Yes, but that’s allowed right? I worry that I won’t always have that control to stop after 1 or 2 again. It makes me angry. Pissed right off actually that I would allow my workplace to force this on me which means I need to deal with all this shit I’ve worked so hard to deal with and keep under control. I hate myself some days for allowing them to have that kind of power. But it’s my job. *sigh Why is it okay for a customer to come and start threatening the employees and other customers because he has PTSD? I understand..but this is NOT an excuse to treat people horribly. Why is it okay that I be put in the situation of having to deal with this man who is triggering my own CPTSD? Why is it okay that the managers bend over backwards to kiss this man’s ass and I need to have someone ring in all his stuff and deliver it to him in the parking lot because he couldn’t handle being in the store with the mask?

There are people we can’t call to help us on cash because they have anxiety and have trouble being on cash, scared of being yelled at, the noise is a trigger, have claustrophobia and can’t be behind the tills with the plexi, etc. What does my manager say?? “The anxiety thing is really being over used lately. This is part of their job and if they can’t fulfill it they need to find another job.” And then proceeds to fake an anxiety attack. What was my reaction to the last person who began to have an anxiety attack while on till? My initial reaction was from a place of anger and resentment. I pictured that manager’s mocking ways and heard his words bounce around in my head. When I was able to recognize that feeling, I was in a better place to get a replacement immediately and speak with her about my concerns. I let a (different) manager know about the situation and told her if she’s called again to give one of 3 names and let them know she does not need to run till as per these people. I hope it helps her but the toxicity of this place and of the people working there just keeps getting worse.

I’m stuck at this point. Not knowing if I should numb myself again so I don’t turn to drinking to cope again or if I should quit my job so I can take care of ME. I need the job. But my kids need ME, not the alcohol sneaking, angry version of myself, but the real me that has worked SO fucking hard to get to where I am (was…I feel that slipping away every time I go to work). The ME that lives for hearing them laugh and play loudly even if that means I can’t talk on the phone because they’re too loud. The ME that reads to them every night before bed instead of ending every day with yelling because they’re cutting into MY time now.

It’s unfair. And I hate it.

And that’s my dark and ranting post for today. I mean, I could go on but really, what’s the point.

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Life mental health Uncategorized

As Time Goes By

Fantasy, Gloomy, Fear, Gespenstig, Weird

There was a time when I believed children just weren’t going to happen naturally for me. My body had been through just as much as much as my mind, both bruised badly from the years of abuse but not visible. I truly believed that because I had kept these secrets to myself, hiding them from everyone who loved or cared for me, I was not deserving of having children. That God knew I would screw up my own kids so bad that he wouldn’t allow that to happen, it was his way of protecting the world from the offspring I would create who would wander the streets causing havoc and despair. That by me allowing these men to continue doing their horrible acts to others and not reporting them or not doing anything to stop them was the reason I was being punished now. The doctor told me that we couldn’t conceive and that broke my heart. How much it really hurt would never be known by anyone, not even myself to its full extent. I didn’t allow myself to process this or grieve the loss of something that wouldn’t be.

What did I do then? I drank, I ate, I worked as much as I could. It would be about 5 years before I would accept the fact that this wasn’t necessarily a curse. The fact that there would be no kids in our life meant that doors would open to other possibilities that other married couples may not have. We could travel, oh I love exploring! This would work out for us. And later we could adopt. I could still have all the things, just not all right now. I was finally okay with the fact God messed up my plans of moving to Quebec City and starting a family. Starting over where no one knew me, knew of the terrible dirty secrets that I held, kept hidden from everyone, including myself.

And then it happened. When my husband and I had been together for 11 years, I found out I was expecting and I’d love to say that this is the moment that my life changed. The pregnancy went by fairly quickly and with no complications. I hardly felt like there was a tiny being growing inside me. I didn’t talk about a nursery or baby names or any of the regular things a first time mother would be expected to. In my mind this pregnancy was a cruel joke. I would not be having this baby, it wouldn’t live because I didn’t deserve to be a mom. I wasn’t a good enough person to be entrusted with teaching a tiny human to be a responsible adult.

He weighed 6 pounds 3 ounces, 19 inches long. I remember being in the hospital thinking, what am I going to do with this thing? It’s just laying there sleeping. How do I feed it? His eyes are creepy. His toes are pretty cute though. I had trouble bonding with him. It took a long time actually. This is more common than one would think and it was another thing I was ashamed of, something else that kept locked inside because it was another reason that I shouldn’t have a child. If people learned my secrets they wouldn’t want to be my friend, they would take my baby from me. One day, I realized that I felt this describable warmth when I looked at that tiny boy, my heart felt like it would explode when I gazed into his eyes as he smiled and cooed at me. It was the first time I allowed this feeling since my Grandpa on my dad’s side passed away suddenly while golfing. It felt amazing! That is when I learned what being a mom was about and what it felt like to really love someone.

That little boy, who my husband named Brody Scott, turned 10 on February 5th. We’ve been blessed with 2 more amazing little bundles since then. Karina Katherine was born January 30, 2012 weighing 5 pounds 3 ounces. Ryan Carter was born August 13, 2015 weighing 5 pounds 14 ounces.

Slowly, I’ve been learning that I deserve to have things that make me happy, I deserve to love and to be loved back. It’s scary to think that you can put your trust into the fact someone is there for you and have them gone the next day. To have them leave you here on this Earth without them. Or to have them walk away one day and you need to learn to breathe without them. To have them tear you heart into a trillion pieces and not even lend you some glue to put it back together. But love, unconditional love, is worth it.

I just want to close this by saying that if you or anyone you know is suffering from depression, anxiety or withdrawing from you or others they were close to, especially after having a baby, please talk to someone, see a doctor or a councilor. Seek help, even if it’s to talk to a friend. Your feelings are normal but that doesn’t mean you have to live with them.

One more thing. Your self worth is not determined by horrible things that were done to you as a child. It’s not determined by bad decisions that you made growing up. And your self worth is definitely not determined by how you think others perceive you.

-Ang