Tattered Soul.

I open the medicine cabinet to grab some Tylenol for a headache. If I took this, it wouldn’t be enough to kill me. I can’t do that. With a cold chill chasing up my spine, I pick up the bottle of Flexeril. There are at least 50 tabs in it. This would work. I could…

Her Last Chance.

A despairing film covers her eyes, blocking sight of arms reaching for her. She’s twisted in pain, unable to absorb love. Really see her. See her hidden scars. Suspend her grief. Her mind is teetering that fine line. It’s up to you. ************************************************************************************************************** Do you see her much? Click the badge to learn more about the Gargleblasher challenge over at…

It’s A Shame About Shame.

Shame has a crushing feel to it. I think to those that have felt or continue to feel shame, it’s suddenly having a spot light aimed on you. It’s the turning of your stomach, like a cement truck, endlessly twisting what’s inside. Shame is that instant jerk of my head, so as not to force another person to…

Flawed Sacrifice.

Looks can be deceiving. The four walls around Maggie’s lifeless body, told a very different story of her life, than the one that played out in her head. Maggie’s office housed all that anyone knew about her. Her PhD hung on the wall, adjacent to the plush couch, her patients sat on. The bookshelf displayed her best-selling, self-help books.…

Dehydrated Fingers.

Ever been in a fight with yourself? This past week, I have done nothing but defend myself against myself. My ego has been throwing sticks and stones at my brain, leaving my heart heavy and hurting. My chest and arms have felt as if they were taken hostage by gravity. I had a gnawing urge…

Alice In Her Own Wonderland.

While searching for blogs related to mental health awareness, I stumbled upon A Canvas Of The Minds via  Twindaddy at Stuphblog.  I’m so grateful I did.  This blog is exactly what we need to see more of in our everyday lives.  Combatting the stigma in order to treat the minds of those that carry a…

A Distorted Mind.

I was hit last night.  I didn’t know where it came from or the cause but it was a blow that shook me.  I’m still shaking. I can’t understand why depression seems to creep in and take such an oppressive hold, at times that seem so incongruously wrong.  It feels like years worth of building myself up has…

Let’s Just Not Talk About It.

I’ve spoke about being a one in three statistic before.  Being a survivor of childhood sexual abuse isn’t something that you file away somewhere and dispose of the negative affects.  In time, I’ve learned how to manage the unwanted flash photos and broken record moments that plague my mind but it still, and probably always…