A Million Thoughts…

A million dreams sound beautiful,

poetic, hopeful.

But have you ever had a million thoughts

racing through your mind at the same time?

Because it’s actually a fucking disaster.

Forget about dreaming about

the world we’re gonna make.

I just wonder about this bed I’m supposed to make

and how the idea is just entirely overwhelming

in the grand scheme of things

when I can’t even get out of it

because I’ve already thought of 8 different ways

I’m going to end up in prison

for not wiping the germs off

of a damn toy car often enough.

and that’s just the last minute.

So trust me:

A million of something is keeping me awake

but I don’t think they’re dreams.

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Two Sides of a Coin

I don’t try to look at the negative

but my anxiety does.

 

I don’t get angry or hold a grudge,

but my anxiety does.

 

I don’t overthink things

but my anxiety does.

 

I don’t care what others think of me

but my anxiety does.

 

I don’t get stuck on little things

but my anxiety does.

 

I don’t think my life is hopeless

but my anxiety does.

I Tell Myself

I tell myself

not to worry;

everything will be fine.

But my anxiety doesn’t listen.

 

I tell myself

let them be negative.

You can still be positive.

But my anxiety doesn’t listen.

 

I tell myself

their words have no power

unless I give it to them.

But my anxiety doesn’t listen.

I tell myself

to ignore their drama;

Don’t let it affect you.

But my anxiety doesn’t listen.

 

I tell myself

to just let it go;

Move on with your life.

But my anxiety doesn’t listen.

Inconsolable

One of the worse parts of anxiety

is the irrational worries and fears

it puts in my head.

Or maybe it’s the hours spent up at night,

lying in bed crying,

where I whisper to myself that it’s not real.

they’ll never happen.

Just keep pushing past them.

But what am I supposed to do

when one of those fear turns out to be true?

The pain going through my being

is inconsolable.

How do I tell myself that nightmares

are not real when they become reality?

Doors

 

These days,  I often find myself drowning

In trying to figure out what I want with my life.

There is an overwhelming amount of options

Forme to simply choose just one.

With graduation and my degree arriving

In the extremely near future,

It opens up for me enough opportunities to do

Just about anything I could ever imagine.

Which is just absolutely horrifying for me.  

Because of the limited amount of dreams

I’ve accumulated during my lifetime,

I have no idea what I want to door with my life.

I don’t know what kind of job I want

Or where on earth I want to live.

That means literally all the doors are open

And I could go anywhere and do anything

Which causes me immense anxiety

Because all the doors are equally exciting and plausible.

 

I suppose there is  one particular door

that I lean towards more than others

But I can’t go through it right now

unless somebody tells me to.  

I so desperately want to go through that door

But I can’t go through with it until

You give me your blessing.

But you say that now is not a good time.

The door isn’t on the table for this moment.

Which is completely fine because

I don’t want what lies behind that door

For this one particular moment in time.

I want where it leads.

I want the life that it goes to down the road.

I want the final product.

I want to follow the door that leads me to

Building the rest of my life with you

And you can’t build a life overnight.

 

These things take time.

And I worry if I don’t start opening those doors now,

It will be too late by the time your ready

Because I’ll  have had to open another door

And start to follow another path.

But that’s not what i want.

Since I don’t have  much in the way

Of hopes and dreams to follow,

I want to follow my heart.

I want to follow you.

Tell me I can open the door.

Tell me to follow you.

 

Overthinking

I can’t sleep at night.

It’s tearing me apart.

I can’t stop thinking.

I am overthinking

every little thing.

Things I should just forget,

unimportant things,

suddenly consume me.

I’m anxious about

every aspect of life-

school, love life, work, home.

Constantly running but

I just can’t keep up.

Physically I’m behind,

but mentally I’m

so far ahead that I

see it’s all pointless.

Anxious

I am starting to realize

my anxiety is strong.

Every little thing I do

now appears to be done wrong.

 

The bells at school make me jump,

hyperventilate, panic.

The work I have left to do

this semester makes me sick.

 

I bite my fingers until

until they hurt or they bleed.

I can’t take a compliment

no matter what is the deed.

 

I can’t sleep through the whole night.

I am afraid to be late.

Nothing makes me more anxious

than those eight hours I wait.

 

Overthink situations

and I jump to conclusions.

I make accusations that

lead to people’s confusion.

 

I need to calm myself down.

What is happening inside?

I can’t stop losing my mind,

heaven knows that I have tried.

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.)

Nobody There

Three years.

That’s how long it took

for me to work up the courage

to call counseling services

to try to get myself help

and there was nobody there.

 

I’ll never call again.

I’ll never get better.

All because the one time

I conquered my anxiety

and tried to reach out

to find nobody there.

Tip of the Iceberg

When I say something is wrong,

It’s hard for me to express

Just how deep this goes down.

When I talk to you,

All you get is the superficial,

Just the tip of the iceberg.

These little issues seem simple,

Like they can be solved

And that I can be saved.

But believe me,

It takes more to sink my ship

Than the tip of an iceberg.

There’s a whole monster

Waiting beneath the surface

To be my demise

And I can’t tell you about it.

You only get to see

The small tip of the iceberg.