“I love you, but I want to die.” It’s something I have said inside my head, but never to you. Because how could I love you, if I want to die? You have heard me say I want to die, … Continue reading Staying Alive for Love
I have a bottle containing five Ativan pills, in case of emergency. There are only five because I am afraid that I might try to overdose if I had a month’s supply. I previously had thirty pills, and I became … Continue reading Sometimes You Need to Take the Ativan
Have you ever wanted to die, but didn’t want to hurt the people you love? I know that feeling very well. I once had a conversation with a friend in which I accused her of forcing me to stay alive, simply by caring about me. This poem focuses on the connections that anchor us to life (whether we want them to or not).
Like a tree, I stand in place
My branches are burning
But my roots hold me down
So that I cannot run from the flames
No one else knows what it’s like to be a tree on fire
Continue reading “It’s Your Fault That I’m Still Alive”
In a single moment, I forget the breathing exercises, and the rational thought practice. I forget the therapist’s direct line, and the holding-ice-in-your-hand trick. I forget the Ativan in the medicine cabinet. And, most of all, I forget your love.
Instead, I make things up: that I annoy you, that you hate me, that your life would be so much better without me in it. I know it; I believe it—I am ruining your life.
I saw myself wake up in a hospital room, worried faces peering down at me. Briskly pushing aside the plastic turquoise curtain, a nurse drew blood and took my vitals. Outside it was sunny, but inside everything was dull. Looking down I noticed that my arms were bandaged from wrist to elbow.
Was I happy to be alive? By now, the suicidal thoughts had subsided, but the pain lingered inside my mind. I would have a lot of explaining to do: about what I had done, about myself, and my disease. Except this time, things were different. I had crossed a line, and there was no turning back.
You were waiting outside, and you would never say it but we both knew what this was: a Game Changer. Continue reading “Game Changer”