It sounds so simple. Call someone when the darkness creeps in, but it isn’t simple. My poem, “Who, indeed?” is about the difficulty of calling someone. Who can help me when the onslaught of darkness brings me to my knees?
I wrote “Overtaken” to describe what succumbing to a depressive valley feels like. I have always found the written word, especially poetry, much safer than speaking. Writing provides me the space to process my world.
I express what happens in my world through my writing. This poem about intrusive memories is one of the ways I can share what happens to me.
There are things we would rather not face. Those are the hard truths about ourselves. In order to change we must be willing to look at those hard truths.
I had a pretty rough weekend. I understand in my brain that these things happen. But wow, I was not prepared for the onslaught of darkness.
What happened to me? I have learned that is the question to ask myself. For so many years I would ask, what is wrong with me? Turns out, that is not a helpful question.
I do not belong in the world of colorful things. I do not belong in the world of sunlight. My c-PTSD tells me to stay in the shadows, in the dark. That is where I belong.