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    Reach Out to a Good Friend

    It's hard to tell someone what's going on. The funny thing is that sometimes when you tell someone that you or a loved one has a mental health condition- sometimes- that person will feel free to share their own story. It helps heal both parties. The other person is probably just as afraid.

    Just yesterday, I told a friend that I was prescribed something. She told me she takes it too. I shared my concern of my daughter with another friend- she shared her daughter's struggles with me.

    Sometimes, it feels like we are all alone. But, we aren't. It takes bravery to share, but the reward is great.

    Do you have a trusted friend you can share struggles with? Can you be brave today and tell someone about your struggles?

    #EndTheStigma #Friends #Relationships #Addiction #Depression #Anxiety #AnxietyAttack #TalkAboutIt #Disability #sad #Suicide #SuicidePrevention #BipolarDepression #Bipolar2Disorder #ObsessiveCompulsiveDisorder #notalone #EatingDisorders #Grief

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    I have never been to “war”

    I dedicate this story to Dr. Richard Barnum: Thank you for guiding me through the roughest of waters.

    PTSD is the black hole that lives in my mind. It is so greatly overpowering and it’s darkness consumes me every day of my life. This powerful monster consists of all of the memories, all of the trauma, all of the pain and every thing that I have lost.
    I received the diagnosis of PTSD when I was very young, and at that time, I didn’t accept it; there are sometimes when I still don’t accept it. I didn’t want to believe it was true.
    “But I have never been to war.”
    This is what I said and still stay when I don’t want to believe what happened to me.
    It varies day to day, some days, I accept and I know that these experiences have left me so broken that there is no way to ever piece me back together. Other days I paint a smile on my face, wipe the tears from my eyes and I say it was nothing. The truth is, it was something.
    I carry all my broken pieces around with me, just as I carry my belongings; they never leave me, not even when I close my eyes to sleep. There is no rest to the emptiness and there is no end to the memories; I know they will never stop and I know that they are forever my burden and nobody else’s. I see in the world that I am not the only one. I am not the only one in the world who is left haunted by evil ghosts. Living with PTSD is not something I talk about, but maybe it is time to start.
    I may have never been to war, but I have looked death in the eyes with fear in mine. I have had my mouth taped shut and my words silenced. I felt my heart break in half as everything I knew was ripped from my hands. It has taken me over ten years to sit down and speak of my demons because I am someone who likes to pretend that there is nothing wrong. It took me so long because I was frightened at what I knew I would feel. I was frightened to look into the eyes of these demons who have never left my side.
    When I look in the mirror I see a short girl with messy hair and hazel, yellow eyes. Behind my eyes live those ghosts that I never speak of. The ghosts of the past. But I am not alone. You are not alone. Don't lose your voice as I lost mine. It is OKAY to have feelings, it is OKAY to cry, it is OKAY to be haunted, but it is not okay to be alone. I strongly believe that help is the best solution to living with PTSD. It doesn’t take the pain or the memories away, but it gives you some solitude. Every month I see my psychiatrist at least twice and he has saved my life. I speak to him about my problems and even though they may have nothing to do with my PTSD, it helps to speak out, I pray for everyone suffering and I send them all of my love. More than anything, I send them a message. A message that says: you are not alone.

    #PTSD #MentalHealth #mentalhealthwarrior #warrior #notalone #help #TalkAboutIt #letyourvoicebeheard #chronicmentalillness #ChronicIllness


    We are one

    We have voices
    voices with stories
    Yet we hide ourselves from one another
    We all go through something in life.
    We all struggle in the same or different ways
    If your depressed talk about it openly.
    If your stuck in a hole of darkness. Reach out for that help.
    We are all the same.
    We can change tommrow if we start caring today.

    Let's make talking about depression normal in conversations rather than hiding it.

    #MightyPoets #Depression #Anxiety #BorderlinePersonalityDisorder #MentalHealth #poems #TalkAboutIt


    The Fat Man Sitting On My Chest


    So there’s this fat man
    He’s inconsiderate and obstinate
    He sits on my chest every day
    When he’s bored, he flicks my nose.

    So there’s this fat man
    And the weight is starting to get to me
    I tried to be strong but my chest can’t go
    Up at all just down GASP down again

    He’s three times my size
    And he’s getting crumbs everywhere
    I’ve tried to ignore him for so long
    I even tried special breathing techniques

    So that I wouldn’t have to fight him off.

    I’ve avoided eye contact with the fat man
    His unblinking gaze is only interrupted
    By his passing out fully on top of me
    And dead weight is impossible to lift

    So there’s this fat man
    I’ve tried to point him out to family
    Gasping for air
    Trying to show them this intrusion

    But they don’t... see... the fat man.
    But he’s not imaginary!
    I feel him sitting on my chest with
    Every labored breath

    I’ve asked him nicely to sit next to me
    Maybe we can talk
    He will have not of it
    He just continues to sit on my waning frame

    After hearing my ribs crack under the
    Sustained pressure of this
    Fat man sitting on my chest
    I know what I have to do

    I have to fight the fat man
    There is no passive waiting
    He will not budge. He grows and grows
    and my ribs crack crack crack.

    So there’s this fat man
    Sitting on my chest
    And the only way to make him leave
    Is to FIGHT him

    It doesn’t make sense
    It does not follow logically.
    Anxiety is the fat man sitting on your chest
    Trying to crush you slowly, painfully.

    I have never asked the fat man
    Nor welcomed the fat man
    Nor encouraged the fat man
    To sit on my chest.

    I’ve asked and begged him to leave
    Whatever he is, this fat man,
    He likes sitting on my chest
    So I have to fight the fat man.

    I can’t breathe and I am weak
    I’m tired and losing circulation
    I’ve been alone with this fat man
    For so long and I NEED HELP

    And we need our friends and family
    We need our doctors and therapists
    To SEE the fat man sitting on our chests
    So that we can, together, fight him off.

    Because we’ve done everything we can to get this fat man off of our chests, and we can’t do it alone.

    #Anxiety #MightyPoets #IdiopathicHypersomnia #SleepingSickness #Depression #standtogether #fight #ineedhelp #Thefatman #TalkAboutIt #MentalHealth


    #MightyPoets #TalkAboutIt

    Why have I chosen to be open about my anxiety, you ask?

    Because the world hides behind a mask of fake happiness

    Because uncomfortable subjects are avoided like a plague.

    Because I believe that how I was treated when I was younger was wrong.

    Because I would never want a child to endure feeling like their needs don’t matter.

    Because if I tell people what I need, it’s more likely to happen

    Because a child shouldn’t be made to feel bad for having a bad day.

    Because I’m enraged when I hear a parent say to a child “What is wrong with you?”

    Because it took me until I was 19 to understand that having these feelings are normal, it’s just when they become a roadblock to success that’s the problem.

    Because I want people to know that they can come to me for empathy and understanding.

    Because I believe in an inherent human desire to reach out and I choose to start that fire.

    Because I believe that people are good and want to help

    I choose to be open because that choice saved me from a worse fate.

    #ButtonPoetry #GeneralizedAnxietyDisorder