#PlayInMay: Raw

I'm not doing the correct prompt for today. The prompt for #PlayInMay on the 15th was Raw. I missed it, but I really wanted to still use the prompt as I have a few things I wanted to post.

Back when I was really struggling with my depression and anxiety earlier this year, I was prompted to write it out. And I did. Three poems that I am in awe that I wrote. To me it totally describes what I was feeling and going through. I wanted to share them with you because some may not really know what it's like to suffer and because I want to show others they are not alone.

The Darkness

by Kirsten Bly

The darkness, it's always there.

Weighing down on me, thick and full.

I try to trudge my way through,

Impossible...too hard...too tierd.

The darkness, why can't you just leave.

Others say to shrug it off, smile.

I pop another pill to make it through two more hours.

It never lifts or shifts, it's always there.

The darkness knows of light,

But nothing can penetrate it.

Sometimes I see the light but it falls through my open hands.

The darkness wins.

The darkness, it triumphs again.

Each day bringing me closer

To a point where I may not return.

But I can't let it win, I want to feel the light.

Anxiety

by Kirsten Bly

It starts as a cringe deep in my chest.

The feeling grows, spreads though out

my body, becoming overpowering.

My insides are shaking and warming up.

My mind, my hope crashes.

Anxiety.

By now I'm twitching a toe, shaking

my leg to get it out, to free it.

But it is stuck. Unmoveable. Defiant.

The pills, dull the senses for an hour.

But I take them because they are better than

Anxiety.

I hide away, withdraw. I hate it.

I am so focused inward that the

darkness creeps in slowly, taking over.

I try to distract myself, hopeless.

Distraction brings on the tears.

Anxiety.

Tears well up and roll down

making lines on my face,

telling a story of a girl.

A girl who is stuck, drowing

in her ownself, unable to see an end.

Anxiety.

Strength

by Kirsten Bly

Sometimes I feel burdened, heavy, crushing.

These trials are not for me,

too hard, I'm not strong enough.

There are ways out.

But those ways are not for me.

I wish I could go back in time

warn my younger self to prepare.

But how to prepare?

Too hard, I'm not strong enough.

My body is slowly growing sick of the disease.

It wants activity, but I can't.

Too hard, I'm not strong enough.

The thought of change brings on anxiety.

I don't know how to deal, how to cope.

Talking doesn't always help.

Too hard, I'm not strong enough.

But the funny thing is,

I'm too scared to not have this.

It has become like my security blanket.

Too hard, I'll never be strong enough.

Thankfully I have found the right combination of medication that has me out of my room and working! I read these poems and am saddened. I remember those times. I'm scared it will happen again. But now I know I can get through it. Thank you for getting all the way to the bottom of this post. I hope it has helped someone as much as it helped me to write them.