I want to be a waitress when I grow up.

While I’m in the re-blogging mood also check out my friend Jessie’s new blog, she’s a talented aspiring therapist and now I found out a talented writer as well!


That’s right. A waitress. At least that’s what I said in the third grade. But what better to do with a child’s dream than to squash it and tell   her to think of something different and “better” to be than a shitty, low-paid waitress? (Thank you, Ms. Ellickson.)

So I changed it to “marine biologist.” It sounded smart. And it would get the teacher off my back. I went with that for a while until I realized that I’m terrified of the sea (and the threat of tsunamis, in particular) and I fucking HATE biology.

Next idea: stand-up comedian. Again, a low-paid job with little chance of success. But I’d get to talk all day and (potentially) make people laugh. Realistic, it was not. Closer to a real yet feasible dream job? Most definitely, though I wouldn’t realize it for another sixteen years or so.

Enter junior high. No one knows…

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Walls so thick

walls so thick
She gave so much
long labored
neglecting herself
mental health suffered

Her nature
justifies action
hidden behind
stark relentless pain

Exuding confidence
illusion of control
but just underneath
a black hole stirs..

Middle child recluse
put on a happy face
hidden stuffed feelings
emotionally alone

Now a mother herself
cheerfully lonely
for the love of her kin
cannot extinguish this fully

Crushing pressure..
Breathing in cement..
She screams!
Nothing penetrates.

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The tragic addict

alcohol addiction

The tragic addict thinks nothing of it,
they have always been this way,
one drink, two drinks, three drinks are normal,
setting sail on on a 12 hour tour
to self medication island.

Once arriving on the beach the mainland is in view,
Have another drink matey for this land
proclaiming with bottle in hand,
No one for miles around, or so it seems
except loved ones far away on the mainland.

At first loved ones visit reluctantly,
They do not stay long for they can’t find the drunk
On the other side of the island he wandered
Passed out, an unkept mess,
Alienating his company as they left.

Visitors grow fewer and fewer,
days and weeks go by as the mainland seems farther
barely visible now, fades out of view,
at least the bottle will always be there, gleaming in the sun,
sweet nectar helps to forget the past and bring back the fun.

Suddenly there is no mainland any more,
No one but the bottle and sand grace these shores
with no one to clean up for, all cares melt away,
in a strawberry fermented liquid haze,
But WAIT, there’s only one more drop!

Oh god, the loyal friend has dried up!
anger and frustration fill the cup,
screaming in isolation, sound disappears…
no one but the fish and seagulls to hear….
smoke signals cry out for help.

Help never comes,
hunger grabs hold,
steals the sun, nights unshakably cold,
all that is left is to sleep,
all hope dies.

Morning, one eyelid cracks open,
a fuzzy red boat in the distance,
with a tall mast and a flag,
coming closer it is real
RESCUED from this hellish paradise.

Oh thank you oh savior!
Nursing the drunk back to health,
Pledging not to drink anymore,
Not coming back to these island shores,
Good riddance bottle.

Good riddance old life.
Hello new life!

Back on the mainland everyone is loving,
friends and family rejoice,
so happy the bottle is gone,
now living can continue,
but for how long….

Until self medication island calls again..

and when it does the story repeats,

each time more agonizing than the last,

each time fewer loved ones come to save,

this tragic addict bottle slave.

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Ten Lies Your Depression Tells You – Anne Theriault

Wonderful huffington post article shared by a wonderful blogger 🙂

Digging Myself Out

k12708227The following is from a Huffington Post article on Friday the 9th by Anne Theriault.

Ten Lies Your Depression Tells You – Anne Theriault

1. You are a bad person who deserves bad things.

2. You are unhappy because you are lazy or lacking in willpower. Happiness is a choice, a choice that you have failed to make. Somehow, somewhere over the course of your lifetime, when faced with some metaphysical fork in the road, you chose the wrong path. You brought this curse down on yourself.

3. Your sadness is the baseline by which the rest of your life should be measured. This sadnesss is your norm, and any other emotions, especially positive ones, are exceptions to the rule. Yes of course there will be good times, of course there will be flashes of joy; you will certainly, on occasion, experience the pleasure of a good book or a…

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