Cactus & Balloon.

Have you ever felt ripped into two?

Literally, your body burning as if the skin were being torn.
I am both cactus and balloon.
I am both scared and brave.
I am both suicidal and full of life.
I am strong but weak.
Dizzy but standing strong.

I am terrified of loving but brave enough to run into a dog fight to save my dog from any harm, god forbid a single hair on his body is hurt and my fury shall be unleashed.
I want to live but that voice in my head whispering that death is my only option is a lot louder than that silence where laughter once lived.
I am strong enough to fight that voice but the tablets that help me are grinding me down, daily breaking my edges and crumbling me with every pain, every side effect weighing me down.
I stand but I’m not sure how, my world is spinning, like a child on a merry go round, there is no way to stop it, the faces blurring, my stomach clenching, holding on to the little food I give to my body…

I am both cactus and balloon…
I crave his arms but push them away, I crave to be their loved one, part of a family yet these thorns keep them away… Keep me away.
I try to cut them but I’m too weak to finish the job, they are too strong… I cut enough to be hugged but then I turn my back for a second and I’ve cut them, I feel the blood dripping from my barbs…
I am a cactus and happiness is a balloon, I am surrounded by balloons, doomed forever to watch from a distance and not touch for fear of exploding them.

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2014.

Noches que se estiran delante tuyo y a la vez el reloj corre, el aire se vuelve espeso y te cuesta respirar. Miras hacia delante y todo parece ser que este bajo agua pero luego algo caliente desliza por tu mejilla y te das cuenta, sólo son tus lágrimas escapándose de la tormenta que llevas dentro. Respiras hondo y te dices que la noche son sólo horas que pronto acabarán rindiendo ante el día… Cierras los ojos y ves todo aquello que pretendías ocultar del mundo, cada uno de esos momentos que revives tras los párpados como un cine, cada detalle, todo a la perfección… Pero si intentas cambiarlo, una palabra, un paso, se esfuma, como cuando cae una gota nueva a un vaso y hace círculos… Cuando algo sucede nada vuelve a ser como era, da igual cuanto lo desees, cuando esa mariposa mueva esas alas tu vida cambiara de camino…

A Love Letter With No Destination.

Somebody once said that if an artist fell in love with you, you could never die…
So applying this rule… If I loved myself… Would I become immortal?

Dear stranger, 
I feel no right to call you any other way, as that is what we are now… Correct? We are strangers, just born on the same day, at the same time… By the same mother… With the same reflection, yet I do not recognise you anymore, I sometimes ask you who you are but I see the tears welling up in your eyes, I can see you can’t get the words out without choking and it hurts me, so I look away and hope to know the answer one day.

I feel the cool floor as she moves from room to room, her feet splaying like those of a duck as she tries not to slip, the water still running down her body and pooling around each step. She stops as she passes the mirror. Her eyes scanning her body without a smile.
“Smile fool, smile!” I chant in my head, “Just look at you, you are a woman, with the body of one.”
She ran her hands through her messy hair, past her face, over her hips, coming to land on her stomach, her swollen womb, about to bleed, a curse for not bearing a child, a curse upon all women but still she looks at it in disgust, in shame.
Unlike me, that sees a woman, being what she is meant to be in all its glory. I see a body that is doing its best in the condition it’s in, fighting from the inside, shedding painfully, swollen, sore; as if a decorator had come to scrape the wallpaper off and start a fresh, ‘baby pink’ he’d call it, opening his arms wide and smiling at the vision he saw in his mind, behind the wallpaper, the blood seeping from those walls…
But on the outside all she saw was a stomach too bloated to fit into her favourite clothes, a stomach to hide, a body to feel ashamed of.
Ashamed of being a woman.

Her eyes, now grey, unfocused and slightly puffy from yet another day of numb depression, slid away from the mirror, her hand dropping by her side, leaving a trailmark of nails, as if she wished to do the same on the outside as what was happening inside.
I wished to hold her hand, to smile at her and have her smile back but her mind didn’t want to listen. She closed her eyes as she turned away from the mirror, not wishing to see the sideview of herself when she should be admiring herself.

Is this what we’ve become? Shadows of ourselves?

She pulled an oversize tee over her curves, curves that had been worshipped by others, and even herself on good days, but there were few and far between.

Her skin, soft and the colour of a weak cup of tea, a description that made a smile creep to the corner of our lips, past the barriers of worlds she had created, there were cracks and I would find them all until I could shatter it.
She had hips like race curve tracks that she saw as a problem as she found many that had crashed on them and the guilt made her cover herself. I could hear her, telling herself she was nothing… So many more things that actually bring me physical pain to say outloud or written for those attacks weren’t only on her, they were at me too…

She sat infront of the laptop, her fingers wizzing over the keyboard, writing my words but she looked away, she looked past them, listened to the piano playing, the birds singing, anything to avoid me.

Hey.
HEY YOU.

The girl with the freckle on her lip and the badly done tattoo on her wrist. Yeah, YOU.
You are beautiful.
You have eyes that freaking change colour! You have lips that although small, are the perfect shape to draw and curve into the most contagious smile.
Your button nose is centered between those rosy cheeks and highlighting your face are your expressive eyebrows that always remind you of your brother, for the string trick he used to do to make you laugh.
It’s okay to miss him, you know? It’s okay to wish things were different and that they were closer to you. But stop expecting that from them. Just because you want a frog to be a unicorn doesn’t mean it’s going to happen. But that’s okay too.
You’re doing okay, look at you.
You fight off depression every day, anxiety? Meh, you can fight him off too! And any other problem that comes in here and tries to make you fall.
You’re not alone either.
You have friends who care, even when you don’t talk in months, even if you sort of dislike them sometimes because they can be obnoxious or they you because you’re being irritable, those people? They are your friends and those people can be your family.
They have seen the worse in you and the best and they are still here, they still let you be you, even steal their glasses design so now you’re twinsies, haha!

And love?
You’ve been loved by some amazing people. Some not so, but they have all tought you something, haven’t they?
It’s okay to miss them too, or maybe just the feeling, but you can, just don’t drown yourself in it. Glance back and then do what you’ve gotta do, which is keep going.

Now, let’s go to bed, our ass has a doctors appointment in the morning and it’s past two am.

We can talk more tomorrow, we have a lot to catch up on, I have a lot to show you.
Sweet dreams.

It’s Broken, I don’t want to play.

“I’ve come to the conclusion that I’m just not very good at this keeping in contact with people stuff…”

That’s the line, that’s the phrase that has broken me today. If it were a friend I could understand, I am also terrible at contact for the same reason, our upbringing showed us we didn’t need family, to the point that we now don’t understand it, yet we crave it.
He’s not good at communication but has a partner for as long as he’s been missing from my life. Mum has dad, my sister has her family, my grandma has her other grandchildren, my other side of the family I don’t think ever really accepted I existed.

I slipped through the cracks.

Who am I? Was I meant to be? You swore you wanted a boy & a girl… The girl being invisible…? Maybe it was just a childish dream that once true you regret, like getting a dog when you are an avid traveller…  It’s just cruel.

As time went on the phone calls grew further apart, the letters less, the christmas and birthday cards non existant… Did I cease to exist and somebody forgot to tell me?
I can’t completely blame them, mine ceased to exist to… But how to you reach out when moving your fingers over paper could burn them with the pain you feel? When you can’t lie like the rest, can’t smile and put on a show…? Should I smile as I tell you how much I want to slit my wrists? Let you laugh back as the blood drips, still not taking me seriously..?

I feel like a ghost, maybe I am one, that’s why I connect with so little people… Only those with the don. My mum sure looks through me as I pour my heart out. I wonder what happened to her, what made her so cold… Mechanical hugs that automatically count down the miliseconds and ring a buzzer to let go and his smile, the one practiced on clients is flashed at me as I leave, lucky me, such a wonderful family they say, they are wonderful people I say, smiling softly, my mind finishing the phrase, count your lucky stars they weren’t your parents…

Now don’t get my wrong, the guilt as I write this is burning my lungs, my breathing getting harder with every word, will I suffocate on the truth? My truth, as it is nobody elses, nobody else lived through it, nobody has seen anything, nothing every happened, I was always a “strange child”. Difficult, argumentative, told she wasn’t liked by her own mother… Told by her father that she didn’t deserve any friends, that she was a horrible person, whilst he smiled that sarcastic grin and another piece of that child died.

The weight on my shoulders, the word family the heaviest of all. It breaks me as it rains down on me, ever December alone, every birthday they forget, every day that passes is like a drop of water on the branch of a tree, the weight unnoticeable until all of sudden it’s too much and the branch bends… Sometimes it breaks…

If I died would they notice?

I truly ask myself this, this is a completely serious question in my mind? Would they take time off work to mourn me, to ask themselves who left them, would they remember who I am?

Who Am I, I asked her… Her lip trembled, she replied the same answers as a stranger would… This woman that birthed me… The one that promised to try harder and hasn’t called since.
I could feel the relief as she backed away in the car park, her sigh of finally releasing me again after not even a whole 24 hours together…

It’s not her fault, it’s nobodies. And I am nobody.

Would me dying finally bring them all together, create the family I’ve always wanted? Irony sweet irony.

They want to be close to their grandaughter… They ignored their children but want to make it right with her. You’re leaving it too late, you need to try harder, if you thought that the love you gave us will be enough, she won’t even feel the dust of it.
My childhood was a gentle breeze of something that felt like care mixed with the sour smell of abandonment, of busy parents and sad children.

They tried their best, they thought money would be important, time was just a word.
Years of working to the bone to survive, their pain etched on her face as she explained her half, as I listened, understanding every word, caring, her pain from this huge misunderstanding, my whole life a misunderstanding. Her eyes glazed as I told her I was raped by a boyfriend, I could see her mind working, wondering if I was lying, if I had misjudged it, not an inch of pain, no feeling of anger. Her mother instinct dormant since I can remember. My dream mother bear, the protection I craved cracking, my last hope of understanding her slipping away with the tears on my face, my emotions drying alongside them on the sheets. What was I to feel now?

I want a reclamation form, I want a redo, I want someone to explain to me how this can happen and nobody notice.

And finally we have arrived, once again to Platform 24 at Suicide Central, thank you for riding again miss Lucy, we hope you enjoy your timeless ticket, we recommend staying in memory lane for an extra special painful night and eat at the regret diner so you throw up later from crying into your milkshake of emotions.

Tomorrow is another day.

Stop being dramatic, I’ll be here, I have a train to catch. Now wave and smile as if you actually cared, even wave as if you’ll really miss me, that’s it.

Now my view is here, in public, where your image is more important than your daughter, the shame, oh the shame, oh the guilt… Oh the pain, oh those glances, it will all begin but I’m not scared anymore. Your wrath may burn but my skin are scales and the worst that can happen is that I die and I still end up winning so let the fire begin, let the pain reign, let it crackle and destroy the bridges, let happen what must.
Don’t say I didn’t try, don’t say I didn’t warn you.

It’s time.

“When you feel suicidal, the only rule is that you come to your next sesion with me and try and make sense of it with me, if it can’t be fixed, throw yourself off the ledge, if it can be fixed, we will, but you have to wait, promise me.”

Damn me and those stupid promises that I keep.
Must be because nobody ever kept one with me that they mean so much when they are just simple words. Just simple words… Blown away by the air.

But I promise Carlos.

 

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Face to words…

So I have now started a youtube account dedicated to mental health and my wonderful rollercoaster.
I may only post once a year, maybe once a day, who knows, but if you’d like to put a face to my words, feel free to come and visit me ❤

 

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Hugs to you all out there, will be writing again soon,

Love, Lucy.

https://www.youtube.com/channel/UCn5Uspm5mVPJTK5KBk7nvrA/videos?view_as=subscriber

Mindbomb.

Tonight my fingers are drawn towards the keyboard, I need to write, the force of the need is so urgent, my fingers to the keyboard like the lips of two lovers, almost lust as they touch and sparks fly, my mind needs its release.

I have always been a person with an active mind, not always in a productive way, it could be said that it has more of a chaotic design, where thoughts swirl around, criss-crossing over in curves, lines, dots, they intertwine and divide making specific thought sometimes hard to achieve. Creativity however has never been a problem thanks to this colourful abyss that is my mind.

I have had a very nerve racking month, my hands are shaking just thinking how to begin, it has been too much to process, too fast to mourn.

I feel the shock in my body, the tears trapped somewhere inside me, I can feel the sharp edges of their prison, it grows day by day, pressing my stomach, making me nauseous daily, yet my mind is determined to tell me I’m fine. My “monstruation” disappeared, my sleep disturbed, my heart broken but still my mind tells me to go on, go faster, don’t think about it.

Coping. That’s the word everyone uses,
“How are you coping? You seem to be coping well!”

What the hell does that even mean?

You’re holding in your feelings and lying to yourself well, yes, we’re all so proud, you’re fucking up your mind holding it all in and smiling, congratulations! You’re now normal!

Almax is best friend, along with valium and enantyum.
One to kill the physical pain of the stress, one to numb the part of me that wants to scream and one to stop me from throwing up stomach acid.

And people are proud of this.

Because I am… “Coping”.

I have started to think that maybe those that are “mentally unstable” are the ones that actually see how this world is, we are the ones who’s feelings have not yet been annihilated by society and its “feelings are stupid” rule.

Are we the insane ones or is it the rest of the population?

To all the people who agree with this post:
20882895_1960612827557975_4488751665222036085_nI have been fighting suicide for as long as I can remember and at one point these posts worked, the guilt worked. Now it just plain pisses me the fuck off.

What about the people who can’t afford help? Government help at least here in Spain is awful, their professionals push you further over the edge after months or years of waiting for help, that is absolutely crushing. Private professionals cost a lot of money most of us can’t afford, sometimes even if you can afford them, it just doesn’t work for you, everyone is different. Now what about the ones who’s family don’t give a shit and don’t make time for them even when they cry out for help, what about the people who’s friends aren’t there on those dark nights because they are busy or have their own shit? Or people that have nobody? And the ones that can’t work because their illness has got that bad so they are just stuck there hanging with no money? Are you going to pay their bills? Are you going to be there for them every single god damn time they need help? Because I haven’t found anyone strong enough yet to deal with what I live with. I live on meds that give me side affects that you would never wish to have to be able to lead a “half normal life” which doesn’t even fucking reach that level and my physical pain is stuff out of nightmares. Living every day in physical and mental pain on your own dealing with this on top of normal daily stress as people don’t take you seriously and still expect everything from you and you say we are selfish for wanting out?
Fuck that, you are the selfish ones for wanting us to stay, to endure this in hope that woweeee we can have one good day out of a month, one week maybe sometimes is an okay one, just so you can feel good and say “I saved them from suicide”, no, you forced them to live a life that you would never want for yourself and have no idea how shit that feels. We are here not to hurt you but in the process we get burned constantly for being a burden and being “hard work” or “complicated”, but if we leave we are cowards, we are selfish, we are cruel.

Now for the people that are now obviously going to say people die everyday from illnesses and want to live, I’m so sorry, we want to live too but unlike a broken leg, unlike a head injury, a car accident because you drunk drove, unlike a stab wound when you decided to pick a fight, we don’t get helped in the ER, we get told to go away, we get forgotten, we get made fun of and made into memes and turned into someone labeled as lazy and told to “snap out of it”. Snap out of that broken leg dude, it’s just a bone, come on, you can crawl… You’d never say that. Ever. Yet we get told that every single freaking day.

Fuck that, I’m so sorry about people that get taken before their time but also people should have the right to decide when they want to die without judgement. You can put an animal down in dignity because it’s “humane” but humans get locked away and drugged and abused de trying to do what they have decided is best, not just for themselves but for the people around them.
Fuck that, people that commit suicide are not selfish, we can’t expect you guys to be here for us, to spend your whole lives taking care of us and we are freeing you of that as WE NEED THAT and nobody can give it to us. It’s not fair on us and it’s not fair on you.

So if your friend is seriously suicidal, not just a phase, but has been through the doctors appointments, has tried their freaking hardest and still wants to do it, respect them and enjoy every moment by their side.

You don’t feel their pain, you can’t hear those voices, don’t judge.

What about what about angels…?

Change has never daunted me; it’s actually been the opposite, making my blood pump, my heart race, the change, the challenge…
But there are things that freeze me; I feel the cold wrap itself around my veins, my bones crumbling with sadness.
Have you ever loved someone?
Of course you have, what a silly question.
But have you ever felt the end at the beginning? When all is beautiful and new and you haven’t yet been able to memorise every curve of their smile, their body language still only on a medium level but advancing fast… The beautiful learning process of understanding a new human life… Have you ever thought how complex that is? How absolutely beautiful it is that we can do that?
Connect to a point of a glance can say a million words… A hand in yours can keep you safe…
This intricate, careful structure we nurture and watch flourish or die…
But all this takes time… Patience.

Have you ever seen it all played in your eyes the second you set your eyes on that person?
Knowing they will mean so much to you that you just can’t resist reaching out to them but instantly knowing they aren’t meant to be yours. Knowing they are perfect for you but the timing isn’t right, something whispers it, as if you weren’t meant to see them, it was a surprise, a secret, an early Christmas present maybe you were never meant to receive, maybe it was destined to be lost in the mail, stolen, kept out of anger…

There are people like those presents… People that you have for only a small amount of time, stolen time, time you seize at and grasp at, beg for the clock to stop, just one more minute, please! But you know you have to release them… Like a beautiful butterfly caught in a jar by a child, you know it belongs in the wild… It deserves to stretch its wings and fly, for others to admire its grace, it’s resilient colour and so delicately you open the jar… You hope it decides to stay, but slowly it feels the breeze and with it, it goes.

Maybe you’ll see it again; maybe it will cross your path once more to stay, in another form, another life, another day… Maybe you’ll never see it again but you’ll never forget the time you had the most beautiful creature in your hand, that day will fill your heart forever with a mixture of awe and bitter sadness.

Some people are those butterflies.
The hard part is deciding whether it’s worth grasping every second knowing the clock’s on a count down or lowering your head and letting them pass, pretending not to see them, your eyes knowing too much showing tears nobody understands.

Sometimes I wish I was strong enough to resist, sometimes I wish I was a coward…
But I can’t… And so it starts.

“What are you reading?”
She asks, noticing the book gripped in the boys hand as if it were a secret, the pain in his eyes swiftly hidden by a mask and smile.
She watched him, remembering their story, a story yet to be told but as old as time. For he was a butterfly, with a broken wing and colours determined to be hidden, only making them, for her, the brightest object in her sight.

Destiny she knew, would take him, as she had others, this was only a trailer, only a taste of the batter yet to be put in the oven and deemed edible…
Raw. That’s what he was. Raw and broken and broken she was left when she pulled off her own wing to fix his, knowing his flight was much more important than hers.

Set him free, the wind whispered… So she cried, she trembled and she fell apart, so the pieces of him in her could fly back to him, full of love, the purest kind.

Set them free, said the world, time and time again.
Knowing fight was futile against destiny she fell to her knees…
When oh when would she stop losing pieces of herself to others? She wondered how much there was left to leave her…

Only the darkness stayed.
Maybe she was born to be consumed by the darkness, born in the night, she’d turn slowly into a part of it, full of stars, all the good parts of her sewn into souls she’d freed.

She looked at him and wondered, was he her last butterfly?
If she fixed him could she drift away?
Would peace come with his pain?

Her smile was that of an innocent girl, her soul of an ancient creature.
Some aren’t made for this world, it whispered; you’re only here to show them that both hell and heaven are on earth, remember that.

Now decide… Will you be his saviour or shall you watch him burn?

We all have that power.

And so she held out her hand and absorbed the flames from his soul in an embrace, tears running down his face, confusion scaring him, loving her, not realising soon he would hate her for leaving.

And there in the sea it all started and there in the sea it would all end.

Stormcube.

I have always been a person with an active mind, not in a productive way, more of a chaotic way, thoughts swirl around, criss-crossing over in curves, lines, dots, they intertwine and divide making specific thought sometimes hard to achieve. Creativity however has never been a problem thanks to this colourful abyss that is my mind.

One thing that often plays in my head is the past, it’s something no-one can escape, we create one since the moment we become a union of sperm and egg.

Now perspective plays a huge role here as it depends how you look back. There’s the regretful people and the ones who think that everything that happens has a reason, there’s also the person who says never looks back, it’s bullshit, we all do.

Decisions, the risks you didn’t take, people, tragedies, they all sit there in the mind, you can either learn from them or let them swallow you whole.

People have a curious effect on me, and here my mind disappeared and I have no idea what I was talking about but as it was obviously something I’ll publish it and come back to that thought.

*Puts pin in it*

October 2016

It was beautiful while it lasted.

When it’s been some of the hardest months of your life and you’ve been a complete dick to the person you love and you wake up and he’s still there.

I woke up this morning to hear him singing to the puppy about having breakfast, even though he’d only slept 5h, I fell back to sleep smiling to be woken up with flowers and that huge smile of his, just because he likes to see me happy.

I can’t begin to express how grateful I am to have him in my life, holding my reluctant hand through anxiety attacks and depression, holding me to sleep and not walking away when I lose control.

I’ve lost so many people in my life because of anxiety and depression, because I was ashamed to admit I had a problem, because I was afraid of being judged, of being called insane when hiding it was making me exactly that.
I really wish people understood what depression means. It’s not a bad day, it’s not that something happened, its not a way to call attention to yourself, it’s definitely not a joke, it’s a dark cloud that envelops you, tells you to sleep and not to talk to anyone. It’s losing control of your feelings and yourself. It makes outside seem like your enemy and your body ache as if you’ve been beaten up, you forget what hope is, it seems never ending. It makes you run away from open arms when all you want is a hug. Your nightmares don’t stop when you open your eyes. There are good days and bad days, you can smile right through it whilst you crumble inside, everyone lives it differently and not everyone survives it, because you know deep down that even when this cloud has passed, another will come, you don’t know when but you know it will. It’s something that makes me rethink the idea of having children as I don’t want them to have to live through my attacks because I know there will be days, weeks, where I won’t be able to face them, their needs, their little faces will become my enemies.

Please don’t take depression lightly those who don’t suffer it an those that do, please seek help and survive. It’s worth it, try to remember that even when it screams at you that it’s a lie. It’s not, there will always be someone that cares, be brave, be strong, reach out. Find us, we are here. The survivors.

I don’t think I’ve ever asked for anyone to share a post but please please PLEASE, if you’ve read this and have felt this way or know someone that has, share it, you really don’t know, who could need it the most might be the person you least expect and believe me, knowing you’re not alone can save your life.

Amazing as it sounds, it’s true, I promise.