How Being A Poet Saves Me

How Being A Poet Saves Me

"The special thing about poetry is that it doesn't have to be sad, or happy. You can make it anything you need it to be."
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I've always been a tiny bit sad. I always found myself feeling things a lot more deeply than some people. It is hard being a highly sensitive person (HSP) in today's world. Don't misunderstand me--I do believe the world is filled with all different kinds of beautiful souls, but with 7,404,976,783 people on this planet, it is still easy to feel alone. With so many different people, there is so much adversity that it can often been hard to find others who truly understand you.

I discovered in my preteen/early teenage years that reading poetry was an absolutely exquisite way to truly feel like someone, out in that gigantic world, understood even the darkest parts of who I am. The special thing about poetry is that it doesn't have to be sad, or happy. You can make it anything you need it to be.

Words can cut, they have the power to build you up, or tear you down piece by piece. I have found that people often think that the words left unsaid between you and a loved one are the most painful. However, I do believe that it is the words left said to ourselves that are a great deal more damaging.

Well, now I think I've talked long enough. I am now going to show you one of my own pieces. It is very dear to me, because it helped me through a really rough time. I was hospitalized for a week on a psych unit and my therapists told me I needed to speak more about how I was feeling. So, one morning in group therapy, hands trembling, I read this poem, and after I had finished, there were several people who said how much they related to the poem. One gentleman asked me for a copy because it gave him hope, knowing someone else felt that way he did.

I am going to share with you this poem now:




"2 AM consciousness"

"Rain washes all the pain of yesterday"

"Everything happens for a reason"

"You deserve better"

"It doesn't matter what people think about you, it's what you think about you"

Words that are supposed to "help" but are really fucking lame.

I'm sorry for being crude,

I'm just struggling.

The weight of living was always a burden I've struggled to bare.

I was like a little kid playing with the idea of a flame. To set myself ablaze,

With the hopes of feeling whole again.

But I forgot what happens when you touch fire,

It hurts-

I've always had empty spaces inside of me.

I tried to fill them up, with anything that could pour into my insides.

But no matter how much I shallowed, I always ended up empty.

Again.

I always left pieces of myself behind, in a book,

curled up inside a coffee shop.

everyone and everything took, but nothing was given.

I was never whole because I left a piece myself inside of every thing I had ever loved.

The most dangerous thing I have ever encountered was myself.

My mind is trying to kill itself.

I'm alright.

It's okay,

the storm,

and I have been friends for a really long time.

So, it doesn't hurt anymore.

With love,
D



Cover Image Credit: Unsplash

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To The Parent Who Chose Addiction

Thank you for giving me a stronger bond with our family.

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When I was younger I resented you, I hated every ounce of you, and I used to question why God would give me a parent like you. Not now. Now I see the beauty and the blessings behind having an addict for a parent. If you're reading this, it isn't meant to hurt you, but rather to thank you.

Thank you for choosing your addiction over me.

Throughout my life, you have always chosen the addiction over my programs, my swim meets or even a simple movie night. You joke about it now or act as if I never questioned if you would wake up the next morning from your pill and alcohol-induced sleep, but I thank you for this. I thank you because I gained a relationship with God. The amount of time I spent praying for you strengthened our relationship in ways I could never explain.

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Thank you for giving me a stronger bond with our family.

The amount of hurt and disappointment our family has gone through has brought us closer together. I have a relationship with Nanny and Pop that would never be as strong as it is today if you had been in the picture from day one. That in itself is a blessing.

Thank you for showing me how to love.

From your absence, I have learned how to love unconditionally. I want you to know that even though you weren't here, I love you most of all. No matter the amount of heartbreak, tears, and pain I've felt, you will always be my greatest love.

Thank you for making me strong.

Thank you for leaving and for showing me how to be independent. From you, I have learned that I do not need anyone else to prove to me that I am worthy of being loved. From you, I have learned that life is always hard, but you shouldn't give into the things that make you feel good for a short while, but should search for the real happiness in life.

Most of all, thank you for showing me how to turn my hurt into motivation.

I have learned that the cycle of addiction is not something that will continue into my life. You have hurt me more than anyone, but through that hurt, I have pushed myself to become the best version of myself.

Thank you for choosing the addiction over me because you've made me stronger, wiser, and loving than I ever could've been before.

Cover Image Credit: http://crashingintolove.tumblr.com/post/62246881826/pieffysessanta-tumblr-com

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Dealing With Anxiety And Depression In College Is Hard, But You're Never By Yourself

My struggles only made me stronger, and God is preparing me for something much bigger.

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Anxiety and depression are two things I've struggled with all of my life, but they were also two things I could never put a name to. In middle school, I believed my mannerisms were something everyone else around me was going through as well.

High school was okay because I was constantly surrounded by people I loved, but as soon as I got to college, it was as if I transformed into this completely different person. My grades dropped, I was losing weight, I was constantly sick, and it felt as if no one around me knew what I was going through or even really cared.

But I'm here to tell you that that's definitely not the case.

Before I could fix myself, I had to name what I was going through, and I think that was the hardest part. I was ashamed to say I faced anxiety and depression because I didn't want to come off as broken. I'd always been known as that "bright and smart" girl, someone who was always smiling and optimistic about whatever she was facing. Someone who always loved everyone else and had no time to worry about herself because she was constantly putting others first.

I was so afraid to label myself as these negative things because I've always been taught the more you label yourself, the more you're limiting yourself from reaching your full potential. But when I was labeled as optimistic, I felt I had no right to be down about things. When I was labeled as smart, anytime I didn't reach the highest level of success, I felt like a failure. When I was labeled as selfless, I felt as though I had no right to worry about myself or my own wellbeing.

The sooner I accepted the feelings I was facing and that I wasn't the only one facing them, the sooner I was able to heal.

The sooner I realized it was all in my head, the easier it was to get rid of those feelings. I began to learn that the trials I was facing weren't normal like my middle school self had convinced me they were, but after being able to name what I was going through, I was able to accept it as it was and push myself to heal. And by push, I mean literally push. I stopped calling my family during breakdowns and instead listened to music that distracted me. I stopped canceling plans with my friends and forced myself to go out because I knew I would have a good time if I just went. I stopped skipping meals just so I wouldn't have to walk across the quad, and my body is thanking me for it every day.

I realized it was okay to feel sorry for myself, but feeling sorry for myself didn't have to include moping around all day. Instead, I started treating myself to getting my nails done, splurging on those new boots, or small things such as buying ice cream with the spare change in my glove compartment. Feeling sorry for myself meant going above and beyond to make myself smile, worshipping more to heal my heart, and spending more time with the people I love to feel whole again.

Now I'm healing, but it's still something I still struggle with to this day. I still think about skipping meals, my anxiety attempting to convince me not to take the short walk across the quad. I still think about bailing out on hanging out with friends. I still think about skipping class. I still struggle with seeing the positive things about waking up in the mornings, wanting nothing more but to curl into a ball and cry until I fall asleep again.

I still struggle with naming the things that I'm feeling, and where they come from, but I'm also learning.

I'm learning not to be ashamed of who I am. I'm learning to find joy in the little things, such as a warmer day than the one before, or a free coffee from the little breakfast shop. I'm learning that what I'm going through doesn't make me weak. I'm learning that I'm not a burden, and the faster you can accept what you're feeling, the faster you'll be able to heal, too.

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