Rum

I drink and drink the whole bottle of rum.

The voices that want to kill me I numb.

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Too Many Times

Too many times in the course of history

woman have been told to sit back and be quiet:

the men are talking.

 

Too many times in the course of history

woman have been told their opinions are cute,

but it’s the men’s who count.

 

Too many times in the course of history

woman have been told to stop talking

because the men don’t agree.

 

Too many times in the course of  my history

I have been told my opinions don’t matter,

by men of course,

simply because I see the world through a different lens

and thank God I do

because someone has to look out for someone

other than themselves.

 

Wattpad

Hi there!

Are any of you guys also Wattpad users? I’m curious to know. I have an account on there with several books I’ve written over the years and some of my very early poetry.  Some of it is not very good because my grammar was atrocious in high school, but I’m slowly going through it and revising it.

Anywho, I’m bringing this up because I recently entered a writing competition on the app and could use some more votes. If anyone is interested in helping me out or even just checking it out let me know. You guys are wonderfully supportive of my writing on here and I would love it if that support could transfer to my novel writing as well. Thank you.

Memory #5

I’ve decided to start up this segement of my blog again where I talk about memories from life that made a major impact on who I am today. Memories are just non fiction stories from the mind of an author just waiting to be shared. 

(Disclaimer: I’m not currently suicidal, just depressed and overwhelmed. I was looking for an answer while things are sort of good so that hopefully they won’t get bad again. I have no intention of hurting myself at this time.)

When I was a freshman in high school, I was very suicidal. Like it was all I thought about everyday. I thought about killing myself on a near constent basis. I made on average one plan a week to off myself and I came pretty close to going through with it a handful of times. This memory is going through my head because almost exactly six years ago today was the day I got called into the counselor’s office to talk about just that. The only friend I had confided in turned me in and tried to get me help.

I was anxious to go into the office, but I told myself that this would be good. I was finaly going to get help and everything was going to be okay. I would finally stop feeling these things that destroyed me inside. Someone that would do more than say a few comforting words would hear my problems and give me a better solution. I walked into that office with the woman more hopeful than I had felt in a long time.

I was so wrong.

I answered all her quesitons truthfully. I gave her honest answers about the things bothering me and the thoughts I was having. She called in my parents (which was about the last thing I ever wanted to happen) but I thought about this optimistacally too. I mean someone had to pay for the therapist or medication or whatever they were going to get me so I could get better.

That’s not what happened.

Basically, the counselor told my parents that I was fine. That I was being over dramatic. In her words that I’ll never forget: “It’s just a phase. She’ll grow out of it once she learns to get over herself.” I was devastated. The woman who was supposed to get me help and make me get better brushed me off. She denied me help. She said my feelings were invalid. She said I was basically justa normal teenager looking for attention. I was so dissappointed.

I thought my parents would side against her and pursue other options. They are fighters and seem to go overboard on everything. Well they did and they didn’t. We went home and they called a professional psychologist who did an assessment with me over the phone. Obviously I was fairly hurt at this point and was less truthful about me answers I skirted around the whole truth in order to protect myself from getting more hurt.

The professional who had never met me and couldn’t see me to know that I was lying told my parents that they most likely would not need to make me an appointment but they could if they wanted to. They declined. Of all the blows I recieved that day, that was the worse. My parents didn’t care enough about me to make just one appointment just to be absolutly sure that there wasn’t a mistake.

Keep in mind they’ve been sending my brother to therapy once a week since kindergarten to deal with his special needs.

Less then two months later and my parents appeared to have forgotten the whole ordeal. They thought everything was fine, but the truth is I just got better at closing my mouth because talking about it just made things worse. So much worse.

They think the problem just corrected itself but obviously it did not if I’m sitting here 6 years later with those see feelings still floating around. I’ll admit I don’t make plans anymore like I used to but the idea is stil there. No matter what issue I’m faced with, it always shows up in my mind as an option. It’s been six years and I still don’t know how to cope. I still don’t know how to solve my problems. I am unhealthy. I am forgotten. I am ignored.

 

I tell you this story because due to this strign of events I have an extreme fearand anxiety of counselors, advisors, psycologists, and basically anyone else who could try to help me. I have severe trust issues due to this event and I’ve never been able to reach out to someone for help again.

That is until today.

I tried calling a counseling office today. They’re open and encouraged you to call over and over on their website. So after 3 years of working up the courage to call this number, I finally did and you know what happened?

Nothing.

I got put through to voicemail. I couldn’t work up the courage to do that in just seconds. I hung up and to be honest, I’ll probably never call again.

(Disclaimer: I’m not currently suicidal. Just depressed and overwhelmed. I was looking for an answer while things are sort of good so that hopefully they won’t get bad again. I have no intention of hurting myself at this time.)

Please Support Us and The March of Dimes

Hi everyone!  I’m not one to usually make posts like this but today it is of importance.

 

Tonight my sorority, Sigma Sigma Sigma – Alpha Beta Chapter, is having our annual philanthropy event Tri Sigma Night Live to benefit the Tri Sigma Foundation. The tri sigma foundation splits all proceeds between three amazing causes: The March of Dimes, The Robbie Page Memorial ( play therapy provided in hospitals for sick children) and scholarships for young women. A majority of the proceeds go towards the March of Dimes.  Our event starts in three hours and we are still short of meeting our goal. It would mean a lot if any of you would consider making a small donation to our cause. We’re trying to get our status back as the highest fundraising chapter in the nation.

Any little bit helps. Do it for the sick little babies!

 

Thank you!

 

https://www.crowdrise.com/o/en/campaign/sigma-sigma-sigma-tsnl/trisigmaalphabeta?utm_campaign=oc&utm_medium=facebook&utm_source=crowdrise

 

Sorry

Sorry I haven’t posted much this semester. I’ve been really busy student teaching. Being with kids makes me happy, so I haven’t really had many strong emotions to write poetry about lately. However, darkness is stirring in my life so I’ll probably get to posting again after I finish writing the 4 papers I have due next week. Be on the look out