Black Dog

I’m here again, lost in the dance with the black dog;

I’m lost for words but my head won’t stop.

Doubting myself. Feeling so much but I can’t tell

If it’s me or him. He frightens me.

What if I don’t make it back this time?

Some days he hides, just behind the curtain…

I can laugh and joke on those days, but he keeps jumping out at me.

I’m trying; trying so hard to keep the beat

Because I’m not sure what happens if I lose it now.

“It’s okay to say,” I keep telling people

But I don’t quite believe that myself.

Not for me, anyway.

And the questions. The questions are killing me.

All the things my brain wants to ask, but the biggest one

Is whether I’d still feel like this if the beast retreated.

Trying to prioritise. Trying to decide which bits can be juggled

And which ones must be put away. Or aside.

Or be thumped all over, for all I know,

Just so the rest is easier to carry

Through this dance.

I wonder whether, if my dog decides to leave,

I will be dancing alone.

 

 

 

 

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I’m Glad

Over and over I think to myself, ‘It’s not the same without you. Life is so much emptier .’ So many times I’ve missed you, wished for your presence, longed to have what I had before.

But, until now, I’ve never considered how glad I am that you don’t see me now. I am relieved that I haven’t had the chance to let you down. I am so grateful that you haven’t watched me drown.

In your head, I hope I am still someone else. But you have no idea how much that thought depresses me.

Mazes

Where did you go? I’ve looked so hard

And far to find you but I can’t.

It’s not a case of hide and seek,

Deep down inside this feels like grief.

A loss too big, too grave, too steep

To bear; and even as I sleep

I dream of you, of times gone by,

Of times I felt your strength inside

And tried to wake, to find you here

And now I feel this crippling fear.

You’re not about to retrace steps

You’re not about to sort this mess

I’ve been ignoring; You are gone

And I’ve been waiting far too long.

It isn’t you that’s lost, it’s me

I can’t be who I used to be.

I need to grieve myself and try

To put aside the hurt; I cry

For her, the girl still gone,

I’ll try to love who I’ve become.

Early night

A timely end to woeful day

Despair gets neatly packed away

Misery has emptied out

Leaving hollow heart throughout

Sleep can cleanse the soul anew

Sanitize the residue

Left behind when tears are shed

Fears of darkness put to bed

Tomorrow is another start

And when we wake with flawless heart

It won’t seem like courageousness

To once again the world address

And Life Goes On

Been away a while now, living (work) life in the fast lane and existing online less and less. Today I found myself wondering why, and came to the conclusion that my need to ‘vent’ has become much less… or I’m developing the ability to vent to the people that deserve it most.

This is a good thing and it’s been a long time coming, but my days are calmer and my months are smoother and for this, I am grateful. I wonder how many of us forget to celebrate the good things. I don’t mean the extreme highs; I mean the every day. I can’t remember the last time that my life seemed so straightforward, without the battles of stress and depression, and the rollercoaster emotions that come with it.

Tonight I’m celebrating my ‘together-ness’ and my completely ordinary life, which I am glad to have back under my own control. A toast, if you please, to normality!

The girl who cried

I knew a girl who cried a lot,

I often tried to make her stop

But couldn’t, for the hurt inside

Was much too great for her to hide.

She dreamed of things that never came

And to herself she dealt the blame,

For though she wished and wanted more

She couldn’t end the blasted war

That fought inside her head each day

And so she tried to hide away.

But there were folk who persevered

and helped to stem the flow of tears.

She learned to say her hurts out loud,

Began to speak with head unbowed,

Realised that she wouldn’t break

That her smile, so often fake,

Could be more regularly true

If from another point of view

She saw the world and all its might;

And from that day she learned to fight

Another day; She’s now at ease.

She feels no need to try to please

The masses who would bring her down,

Those who’d gladly let her drown.

No longer is she full of dread

While thinking of the days ahead.