You’ve changed.
No. I took charge of my life.
I shed years of
blackness from my life.
Decades of overcast emotions
from my heart.
Years of caused neglect
from my nervous system.
Decades of tape marks
amongst my voice.
I did not change.
I found me!

Dear Mental Health,

I wanted to reach out and ask, “Do you exist?” Growing up, I experienced difficulties in school, and I understand that not everyone grasps things right away. But why did you have to bring us the gift of different emotions?

I know that these illnesses, as you refer to them, affect everyone, but do they come in different categories? Are they randomly assigned to each person out there? These are questions I’m eager to understand, but perhaps that’s the mystery, isn’t it? Why are some of us chosen to face these challenges? I never asked for them, and I’ve always wondered if I could have been given different conditions. Perhaps that would have led to a different life for me—who knows?

Thank you for considering my thoughts.

“As night falls, the sounds gradually fade into complete silence. The stars emerge as the clouds above drift off to sleep, while fireflies glow gently in the dark sky. As the countdown to dawn begins, the night will give way to light, making room for a new day.”

Darkness falls with the sounding booms as a gentle breeze fills the house with coolness. The nighttime welcomes the aroma of fresh food being made, while the soothing purrs vibrate through the house. As the sky descends, light shines on the shadows, and the insects make their music known.

In a hot box mobile home, where the sunlight gleamed,
Lived a woman named Michelle, who often daydreamed.
With her coffee in hand and a laptop on her lap,
She was lost in a tale, in a wonderful nap.

But just when she sighed, “This is bliss, oh so nice!”
A spider appeared, oh so crafty and spry.
He danced on a blanket, did a jig on the floor,
And Michelle, in surprise, dropped her laptop — what a fall!

“Hey there, my friend, can’t you see I’m engrossed?
Your eight-legged antics, quite frankly, I loathe!”
But the spider just winked and performed a grand leap,
As Michelle tried to shoo him, her coffee took a steep.

It tipped and it splashed, oh, what a disaster!
Her dream turned to chaos, and the silence unraveled faster.
“Why must you interrupt my serene little life?
I was cleaning the coffee, not dodging a spill!”

The spider just chuckled, with a mischievous grin,
“I thought you’d enjoy a bit of a spin!
Life’s too short for quiet; let’s mix it up a bit,
Wouldn’t you rather laugh than just sit and sit?”

So Michelle took a breath, bit back her frown,
And decided to jump from her eight-legged clown.
The laptop flew on the couch, oh, what a sight,
A woman and a spider, escaping by flight.

Now, whenever she prepares her laptop, with her coffee in hand,
She glances around for that arachnid friend.
For some time it seems, in our quietest space,
A little interruption can bring entertainment wherever you go!

In the quiet moments of creativity, you might find yourself staring at a screen, feeling a sense of longing for inspiration that seems just out of reach. It’s tough when those blocks wrap around your thoughts like a heavy fog. You look around your space—a unique puzzle made up of health, hygiene, entertainment, food, and drama—and you know there’s a wealth of ideas waiting to unfold.

But when the spark dims and the muse veers away, it can be disheartening. You wonder what forms you can explore to break free from that barrier and reignite your passion. It’s okay to feel stuck; it happens to all of us. Remember, even in those still moments when creativity seems distant, the potential for new ideas is always there, patiently waiting for you to let it in. It brings out more ideas when the block evades your space. Everything around you is like a puzzle separated into categories: health, hygiene, entertainment, food, and drama. There’s a wealth of creativity surrounding you, but when the inspiration runs out, what forms can you use to break the barrier?

In the bustling city of Huntington, Amanda had always felt like an outsider, a piece that never quite fit into the puzzle of life. Surviving a tumultuous childhood marked by trauma, her journey began with the heavy weight of her past. Experiences of abuse and betrayal had woven a complex tapestry of PTSD, anxiety, bipolar disorder, borderline personality disorder, and oppositional defiant disorder into her daily existence.

Amanda was a survivor; her resilience was forged in the fires of her struggles. After each nightmare she faced, she would find herself in therapy, seeking to untangle the knots of her pain. Her therapist, Dr. Lewis, a compassionate and wise woman, became her guiding star. Together, they explored the darkest corners of Amanda’s mind, shedding light on the shadows that loomed large.

One day, while sitting in Dr. Lewis’s office, Amanda recounted a recent episode of overwhelming anxiety that had left her paralyzed. As tears spilled down her cheeks, she expressed the fear of her past overshadowing her future. Dr. Lewis listened intently, then gently encouraged her to turn her pain into power. “You have a story worth telling. Your experiences can inspire others,” she said.

Motivated by their conversation, Amanda decided to channel her emotions into writing. She began to craft a memoir, narrating her struggles with honesty and vulnerability. Words poured from her heart, each sentence a step towards healing. As she wrote, she found solace, and with each chapter, the weight of her past began to lift.

Gradually, she built a community, connecting with others who faced similar battles through support groups. There, Amanda met Carol, a fellow survivor whose laughter was infectious despite her scars. The bond they formed allowed Amanda to glimpse hope in the eyes of another. Through sharing their stories, they discovered the strength of standing together, breaking the silence that had long surrounded them.

Amanda also found comfort in creativity, immersing herself in painting. With every brushstroke, she transformed her chaos into color, creating vibrant images that represented her journey. She titled her pieces “Mosaics of Strength,” each one a testament to resilience and beauty rising from brokenness. Her art caught the attention of a local gallery, leading to her first exhibition, where she showcased both her paintings and readings from her memoir.

On the night of the opening, Amanda stood in front of a gathering of friends, family, and strangers, her heart racing. As she read excerpts from her book, her voice trembled but grew more confident with each word. The audience listened intently, moved by her honesty and courage. By the end, tears glistened in their eyes, and applause erupted, filling the room like a warm embrace.

Despite the challenges that lay ahead, Amanda felt empowered. She understood that healing was not linear, and there would still be difficult days filled with anxiety or depressive episodes. But now, she had a toolkit—therapy, art, and a supportive community to lean on.

As she glanced around the room, she realized that she was not just a survivor of her past; she had become a beacon of hope for others. Amanda learned to embrace her journey, celebrating her survival with every step forward—a mosaic of strength, uniquely beautiful in its imperfections. With a heart full of hope and a voice to share, she reminded others that it’s okay to seek help, to share their stories, and to believe in the possibility of brighter days.

Inspiration fills the air as the sunshine awakens the morning birds. A woman sits with her cats, sipping coffee while her medication begins to recharge her energy and clear her mind. As the day progresses, the oven inside starts to cook. The ideas that develop branch out into many possibilities. Do they always remain the same, or do the surroundings influence how the mind perceives these ideas?

Her shape of creation
is far more contagious
than the scribbles
it once was.
The craft from within
is overflowing with
small golden flakes of serenity.

Lace up this heart of mine
with your gentle hands
rather than your toxic lips

The final good bye of a broken heart does not happen in the light but by way of the midnight dark.
I was holding on to all we were,till there were no more words and I no longer hurt I asked you to stay ,I begged,and I prayed but still I was not your one.
Why did you ask for my hand?why did I allow myself to feel as if this was my only chance? These questions are a mystery.butthere they are laying quietly inside of me.
I gave you my all.Even through the lies and the walls.
Through the pain and the sorrow and still I was never going to be good enough for you.
But I woke in the hour of prayer with these words hanging in the air.I did not need you .I wanted you.
I thought you were my person.I thought you were going to be there for the rest of my life.I felt that we would create memories not heart ache and strife.
I tried to be patient,I tried to be kind even when I found out I had been living a lie.The lie was it toldto gain more than I could give? Was it said so you could pretend?or was it a deal to be happy with the cards you had been given? Was it tried but only for a minute? Was your heart true? Or was it just mine? These are the questions asked in the dark ,of a mind not crazy just trying to understand why you chose to break my heart.
Was it anything to you more than words spoken to the air?For me it was a blessing,a miracle,a release from the pain,the the fear,a feeling of safety and so much more.
When you first hurt me I told myself he is young and he does not understand he was not given the chance there was no example to share.He was not raised by a Godly man and only having women to guide and protect him.I had made more excuses then I looked a round and had to put myself in check your doing it again;I whispered to myself in the dark don’t make excuses don’t allow yourself to be put on a shelf because that shelf only holds lies and confusion, deceit and so much more.
You are a child of God not a piece of broken on the floor put your faith in God and look up above this is the source of true undying love.He will guide you and lead you to a new and it’s not a person and it’s not sitting on a pew it’s in the prayers whispered,and cried out loud and screamed.it is in the travail and the love that is felt and not seen it is in the actions of a warrior on her knees this is something nothing not woman or manor beast can give.It is only God that can give you freedom so as I release this heartache and despair I know that I’m ok no matter what when or where My Love will only come from God my true hearts desire and if I can hold on to this truth with a strong faith and a prayer I know even in the darkest hour my God my father my love .
Power comes not from man but heaven above I have more than anyone can give me I have my father in heavens love and with that being said I know I will be ok
Today is a new day cause my God came down in the flesh for my horrible sins he died on a Cross and rose again.
He gave me life and saved me from death so what does he ask of me nothing more and nothing less then what I can give which is only my best .
My faith My love My song My blessings for those along the way .
But not do the rich but for the poor not for the found but the lost ones lying on the ground.
So in closing this I will say my heart may have been broken,but God restored it today ! This is my Renewal! This is my independence day!

Your physical appearance
shined more than
your emotional guidance.
I don’t know to either
be mad or hurt.
You gave the bare minimum
yet took more than needed.
Your form of love was
thru the necessities
of food, home and clothing.
Grieving doesnt feel right
more like hatred inside.
Confusion overshadows
the mind of forgiveness.
Reparenting what was
ignored only comforts
one’s soul leaving
another apprehensive
when in need.

You hype the conversation
with such admiration
In the same breath
you toss out rejection

Let it burn in your throat.
The emotions from your heart, rising like a flood, and pushing to the surface,
threatening to break the dam behind your eyes, a release of flowing tears.

But the dam holds, forged of learned silence— a wall built by the hundred times your voice found no echo, no gentle hand to meet its reach.
What’s the use of a flood when the world’s ears are stone, its eyes, a blank stare?

So you let it burn, this defeated truth, a scalding current trapped behind your teeth.
It twists, while your mind raises a quiet question: why does caring cost so much, when it lands on nothing?

And the fallout?
A hollow hum where laughter used to be, a heart that learns to beat softer, to guard its own light, because sharing only dims it.

And so the fire stays, cemented, a constant, private ache— a monument to what was never heard.

A deep current runs, unseen, yet always felt, beneath the calm surface, where dark secrets dwell.
A fading light, a choice once made, the crushing weight of what was, now laid bare for me. A quiet struggle with a shadow’s rise, on a stage where eyes meet the skies. A constant hum of endless need, Questions linger, like seeds to breed. The fragile shield, nearly worn through, a blessing turned to burden’s hue.

Then, a sudden chill in a shared space.
A word like a stone cast into the waters.
The bright colors of belief now muted.
A question hangs, unheard: Is this real?
And so the mind gently retreats, a soft step back, drifting motion, no turning back.
With the body present, moving throughout the day, while consciousness finds its own distant shore a walk to a necessary vanishing, a breath of nothing.

Underneath this skin
lies uncertainty wanting clarity
fear to put one step in front
sabotaging energy
love from own heartbeat
overload of anxieties
overwhelming sensation
of healing clogged pores

Underneath all the wounds
lies beauty in progress
strength in training
courage in action
love in veins
clarity in pores

Oh brain
why must you
feel this pain
I try to heal
the cause root
even when its
been a long commute

why must you
choose to be blue
when it leaves
for an overcast
type of mood

I wish you
would simply calm
when gently rested
on my palm

Special Note: This is a song that God gave me. It is simple and easy to learn. I’m sorry, but I’m not able to share a tune. This is after Matthew 4:19 Follow Me and I will make you fisher of people, (NIV)

Song:
Jesus said, “Follow Me, Follow Me all the days of your life. Follow Me, Follow Me now! I come from Heavenly Father to die upon the cross. To save you from your sins because I love you as the Father does. So, Follow Me, Follow Me now!

Jesus said, “Follow Me, Follow Me, all the days of your life. Follow Me, Follow Me Now! For the world is truly angry. So, tell of His scripture and tell of his might. Tell of His glories from up above. So, Follow Me, Follow Me now!

Jesus said, “Follow Me, Follow Me all the days of your life. Follow Me, Follow Me now! I come from Heavenly Father to die upon the cross. To save you from your sins because I love you as the Father does. So, Follow Me, Follow Me now!

In the stillness, a man sits alone,
Twiddling thumbs, lost in thought’s heavy stone.
The weight of desire twists like a vine,
For the comfort of medicine, a lifeline divine.

Yet, in shadows of doubt, he grapples with fear,
Relying on others is a thought too austere.
The freedom he craves feels just out of reach,
While reservoirs run dry, with no hand to beseech.

Each moment weighs heavy, a silent despair,
For the solace he seeks is elusive, rare.
In the labyrinth of longing, he searches the sky,
Hoping for solace, though the well seems to dry.

Lost for words, I wade through a pool of sand,
Where time drifts dimmer, like shadows hand in hand.
The whisper of the breeze carries a gentle sigh,
As the bowl of burdened thoughts is cleansed, set free to fly.