Every day just passes
then the next.
I can’t believe how lonely
this all gets.
Every day just passes
then the next.
I can’t believe how lonely
this all gets.
I have become
Attempting to become
But now I don’t think
I don’t speak;
I am nothing.
For my future
But that just keeps the fire burning.
Is there an end?
Or am I the end?
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.
Missed part one? Check it out here!
Cold. A bitter, gruesome cold spread throughout Jakey’s body. He couldn’t feel his fingertips, but he was less concerned about that than where he was. He opened his eyes to find himself laying on his side on a damp and uncomfortable bed. He could just barely see a bedside table next to him, illuminated by a single dim and flickering lamp. The lamp looked to be something from an old movie. His mind jumped straight to pirates.
Where am I?Jakey thought to himself. The last thing he could remember was jumping into Boston Harbor after that terrible fight with his parents. Was he dead? Was this what the afterlife was? Why did he feel like he was rocking back and forth? Jakey thought he would be sick.
His eyes slightly adjusted to the darkness and noticed a window behind the table. He could barely make out a light far in the distance. Then the light was gone. It reminded him of a lighthouse, but he couldn’t think straight enough yet to wrap his head around that.
It’s freezing.Jakey thought to himself, sitting up in bed and placing his feet on the ground. Where are my shoes?His feet felt a cool breeze as he noticed he was no longer wearing his shoes and his socks were damp just like the rest of him. It was a terrible feeling, he couldn’t stand it any longer. Without thinking, he took his socks off and felt a sudden relief.
I’m not dead, but I wish I was. This is awful. Where the hell am I?Jakey attempted to stand, lost his balance, and fell back down onto the bed. Why can’t I stand up? Is the world rocking back and forth? Or am I losing it?He squinted and looked around. At the bottom of the bed was another light and one on the opposite side of the bed, too. He was in a small room with two doors on each side of the bed respectively. Everything was wooden.
Jakey felt delirious. He couldn’t wrap his head around what was happening until he heard a loud crash, a sound he was all too familiar with after spending years at the pier. He was on a ship. He understood that now. How he got here was unclear, but he was here now. He didn’t feel threatened, as if he was kidnapped. Hell, even if he was some prisoner on a pirate’s ship it’d be better than his old living situation. At least then he’d have something to live for.
His mind was finally coming to. Jakey had never been on a ship before besides the time he toured his father’s boat many years ago. He knew boats rocked back and forth, but he never knew the feeling until now. Seasickness was something his father always said was for the weakhearted, but he could feel something rising in his stomach. Oh, no, he was going to be sick right now. He couldn’t see well enough to find something to throw up in, but he stood up and searched anyway. As he stood up, much too fast might he add, he uncontrollably bent over and let it all out.
Groaning, Jakey laid back down on the bed, legs dangling off the edge and hands rubbing his temples. Voices came from behind the door behind him followed by footsteps and the creaking of an old door handle turning. Without sitting up, he watched a light illuminate from the other room. A figure appeared carrying a lamp identical to the ones in his room, but much brighter.
“Well, I’ll be. You’re awake!” Said a deep voice in an accent he couldn’t quite place.
“You alright, boy?” A second voice said. Two figures now stood at his bedside, upside down from his perspective.
“Mnm, got sick.” Jakey croaked.
“Where didja get sick, now, kid?” The second voice said. The two piled in and Jakey sat up.
“Over here, sorry, I couldn’t find a place to go. It happened so suddenly. Never been on a boat.” Jakey mumbled, gesturing to the mess on the floor next to him.
“Well, that’s alright, nothing a mop can’t clean, right?” The first voice said as they inspected Jakey’s mess.
“What’s your name now? And what were ya doin’ out at sea? We thought you were a dead man. Scared us, didn’t it?” The second voice asked, taking a mop and bucket out of the cabinet at the end of the room and began cleaning.
“Jakey. I don’t know, was trying to end it, honestly.” Jakey admitted sheepishly.
“Well, that’s not the way to go, now is it? How old are ya? 16? That’s a bit too young to be wanting to end it all, wouldn’t you say?” The second voice said.
“I’d do anything to get away from my parents.” Jakey said solemnly.
“Is that right? They’re abusive? Guess we can’t bring you back ashore then, can we?” The first voice said, nudging Jakey. Jakey chuckled.
“Sorry for rescuing me. I really don’t want to overstay my welcome. You can bring me back to shore, I don’t care where. I’ll get out of your hair.” Jakey mumbled.
“Nonsense. Jakey. We were just talking about how we need a new shipmate, weren’t we, Artie?” The second voice said, peering up at Jakey and Artie as he finished cleaning.
“Aye. We’ve got a crew, but we could use another person.” Artie said, “Tell me, Jakey, what do ya know about the ports ‘round Boston?”
“I know a little.” Jakey lied. He knew Boston Harbor better than he knew himself. He’d spent hours a day as a kid memorizing the paths of ships and tides from his father’s charts. He would draw them on spare pieces of paper from memory in class when he’d get bored. The margins of his math homework were riddled with maps and boat designs. He could tell you where the captain’s quarters were in every boat that belonged to the harbor.
“Don’t be modest, kid, we want to give you a safe place to live. All we ask is you help us take back what’s ours.” Artie said.
It’s warm now for the first time
in a long time.
I wasn’t sure winter would ever end,
but it did now.
Now it’s warm nights and sunny mornings,
as the trees bloom all around me.
I’ve never known joy,
at least not like I know it now,
but I know it now.
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.
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.
As I have mentioned, my ultimate career goal is to be a published author- preferably a self-sustaining one. I have a lot of ideas ruminating for what genre I want to be my main focus, and that’s something I’ve always struggled with. There’s so many types of fiction and they’re all so fun to write. I’m working on a few different stories right now, and they’re wildly different from each other.
With the summer coming up, I’m going to be working more, and that will probably hinder my writing. Summers get incredibly hectic and exhausting, leaving me braindead with little motivation to write. I’ll be setting aside a day or two a week just for writing, though, and that’s really what will be getting me through the chaos of tourist season.
School has been going well so far, it started the first week in May and I really don’t have many complaints so far. It’s my first class after transferring and it’s a very simple history class. It’s been easy so far, and that’s coming from someone who has never really excelled in any history class. I didn’t necessarily do bad, I just never put in much effort.
The class is taking up more of my time than I’d like, though. I’ve always struggled with writing while I’m in school and I was hoping since I’m only taking one course, I would find the time to write more. So far, I’d like to think that’s true. This website has been a good motivation to continue creating, and I’m glad I have yet to slow down too much with my writing. Not to mention, it feels good to finally have my work out there and not just crowding my documents folder on my laptop.
For the last year, I’ve been focusing a lot of my free time on bettering myself mentally and emotionally. I’ve been learning my limits, knowing when to give myself a break and when I just need a little push. It’s been mostly successful, but I still have moments where I feel overwhelmed and just want to start everything over or go live in a cave for a month or two.
When I get to that point, I know I’ve pushed myself too far and need a break from it all. I’ll typically give myself a relaxing night in with a cup of tea and a good show and restrict myself from doing anything too strenuous. I’ll let myself do something that I typically wouldn’t do because it doesn’t feel “productive enough.” I won’t get upset with myself for needing a day off because there’s nothing wrong with that. As someone who has had mental health problems for years, I just need a little extra cushion sometimes and that’s okay.
Knowing myself and knowing my limits has been the biggest help on me getting healthier. Listening to my body when it needs something, whether it be more sleep, something to eat, or to relax and not overwork myself, has made me a generally happier person. For a while, I never thought I’d make it to the point where I feel okay most of the time, and I’m proud of myself.
The warm evening summer sun
interrupted by gentle breezes,
flowing through the trees
and through your hair.
The breeze is a relief,
the sun, though setting, burns bright.
When the wind blows,
it takes with it any sense of doubt
and any negative feelings we once had.
We stand in the forest,
surrounded by trees and bushes,
a plethora of greens and browns and yellows.
We’re barefoot, but only for a moment,
just to sink our feet deep into the soil,
root ourselves in the same dirt these trees use,
and maybe understand how they can stand so tall
in a world that doesn’t seem to want them.
I feel connected to the forest,
in the summer at dusk.
I feel as though I, too, will soon become cold and restless,
mischievous creatures will stir within me.
But there’s a beauty in the silent forest nights,
though most fear to approach the darkened woods,
those who do will find it’s calm and eternal;
it’s not out to get you, it just wants to survive.
It just wants to grow, to thrive
and as far as I’m concerned,
that’s all anyone else wants.
There’s something beautiful about a big open field; I used to dream about them. The endless green grass, wild flowers growing arbitrarily, wandering around them aimlessly. It’s a kind of calm bliss only achievable in a big open field, unaccompanied on a sunlit day. Maybe it’s something to do with how I spent my childhood, often around fields of lush grass and the soft sound of people just out of sight. Maybe that’s why I have such an affinity for them, they bring back fond memories from a time I only vaguely remember.
A gentle breeze passes, I feel sempiternal, unbreakable, invincible. Laying in the grass, I listen to the birds sing, the faint sounds of cars and people, just far enough away to not be bothersome, but still close enough so I don’t feel alone. I’m at peace, I’m exactly where I’m supposed to be.