Tag: mental health

Do I remember how to do this?

~ jennadawn ~ Leave a comment

Months away from the creative page.
The desire to make things
or express myself with words
evaporated and melted away
like the unseasonably warm weather of these winter months
kept the snow away
and prevented it from returning to stay.

I cannot find the words to convey the depths of pain and grief and depression and anxiety and ambivalence and change and interspersed joy that have filtered through and between the days of recent months.

I could not imagine what such words would look like, sounds like, spell like, write like or hear like, so it seemed worthless to spend any amount of time before a blank page, hoping for the imagining to come to me.

The thought of spending time before a blank page cascaded waves of fear, discomfort and vulnerability through every tissue of my body, maintaining distance between us.

I have felt vulnerability before, even embraced walking alongside it. But this felt different. It was vulnerability in a new form, a more terrifying form, and I chose to stay away for what I believed to be my own self-protection.

Last weekend, in the midst of an anxiety attack, I tried to color in a coloring book with pencil crayons, reasoning that the act of coloring would distract and calm my mind. Instead, my anxiety amplified. Fears of choosing the right picture (not too complex but not too simple), fears of choosing the right colors, fears of coloring too faintly, too intensely or beyond the lines, fears of choosing colors to live next to each other that do not complement. Questioning why I am limited to the colors chosen to be within this collection of pencils. Questioning why I need to adhere to rules and lines and systems laid out by an entity separate from myself. After ten minutes, I abandoned the effort.

I want to stand before a giant white canvas and throw globs of paint upon it, then wave a brush to spread them all around under the guide of exploration and curiosity. I want to get my hands messy. I don’t want to abide by arbitrary rules that tell me what’s right and what’s wrong with my exploration of self. I want to translate myself into colors and textures and images that words cannot always adequately capture within themselves. I am evolving. I am expanding.

I must believe
I am strong enough
to rise up against any tribulation
threatening to pull me down
and keep me there.

I have to trust
that I have the means within me
to face each new situation
in the moment.
It’s somewhere deep inside of me
waiting to rise when the time is right;
the knowing of what to do.
All I need to do is trust.

Trust that evolution
is a celebration
and a journey with no finish line.

I must trust that I remember how to do this,
and will remember how to do this
when I need to.

decisions on instinct

~ jennadawn ~ Leave a comment

My therapist
encouraged me to practice making decisions
faster
and based on my instincts.
Not every decision needs to be
weighed and analyzed
for hours
before reaching a conclusion –
a novel concept
for my brain to comprehend.

I took her advice;
I could hear her voice in my head
gently pushing me
out of my head
and into my body.

Warm air, sunshine-soaked sky
lured me to be outside
and move,
while listening.
I want to walk through the park,
I want to explore a new trail,
I want to recreate a small sliver of wild
I chase and revel in elsewhere.

I laugh at myself
as I walk along the trail
at this series of decisions
being the most impulsive I have been
in months.

When did I become so scared of living?

living in the shadows

~ jennadawn ~ Leave a comment

I have been gone for a while
living in the shadows, the darkness,
and finding comfort there,
familiarity,
safety.

I can see the light
but it scares me.
The shadows are quiet,
impose no pressure to speak or do,
their cold embrace enveloping me
until we warm.

I’m liking it here, in the dark.
It feels familiar
for I am often here
though not for long periods of time.
There are bursts of sunlight
that beam through the clouds
interrupting my accumulation of days.
The sun tries to tell me
that really, I’m OK
because I can see the sun
and be happy for a while;
I don’t qualify for a new label.
So when the clouds roll over again
I start back at day one.

And I ask myself the age-old question:
on some level, have I always been this way?

And then I ask the question:
am I trying to make something out of nothing,
this earnesty to classify
and put myself in a box per criteria,
or is this just a simple part
of the human experience?

This time,
I am staying in the darkness for a long time.
Longer than any time before.

I feel scared of everything
all at the same time,
all the time.
Paralyzed.

I have either lost myself
or changed –
I know not which it is.

And I don’t have the energy
to do
what they tell me I should do.
I don’t want to deny the darkness
in an attempt to feel better;
I want to stay here.

Eventually I will let someone down
and I can only blame the darkness
for so many things
because after all,
shouldn’t I be strong enough to fight it off?

But then
someone on the outside
saw me, and saw the shadows.
She acknowledged,
she validated,
and she nudged me towards a new source of light.

I have been gone for a while
and I’m not back yet
but maybe,
someday,
eventually.

believing in my body

~ jennadawn ~ Leave a comment

When my body talks to me, I listen to her. I listen to her, and I believe her.  

When my body told me I was safe with him, I believed her.

When my body told me I was not safe, and I needed to get out of the situation, I believed her, and I ran.

When I received declarations of love that did not resonate with my body’s perception of truth, I believed her distrust.

When my body ached and longed and dreamed of the situation being just a little bit different, like how I had imagined it in my mind, she allowed me to play along for awhile, because she could see how much I wanted to believe, and how tightly I was holding on. But when she murmured over and over again that the situation would never change without me sacrificing my personal integrity, I believed her, and slowly, eventually, let it go.

When my body shows the beginnings of a sore throat and the quiet introduction of a cough, I believe her and I take care of her.  

When my body initiates the slow and soft hum of building pain extending across my pelvic floor, I believe her message that my bleed is coming. She has never let me down before.

When, on the screen, my body showed an organism too small, with a heart beating too slow, I believed her message that she was doing everything she could, but it would not be enough.

When, after the second procedure, I felt like my complete, whole, ‘normal’ self, I believed my body was feeling that way for a reason; she doesn’t play mind games with me.  

When my body expresses hunger, I believe her. When she requests movement, I believe her and get my heart and lungs working. When she experiences discomfort, I tune in and solve my way through the problem until I reach the heart of it.

When my body pushes me out beyond my comfort zone with insistence that I will grow if I do, I believe her, and do my best to push aside my anxiety.

When my body calls for artistic expression, I believe and honor her requests through writing, photography, vocal release, and decorating my skin with ink.

When my body knows there’s something worth fighting for, she stirs up the energy I need to speak my truth and advocate for others. I believe she knows, better than my mind does, what is important to me.  

When my body whispers to me her need for rest, for stillness and quiet, I believe her, and give her what she needs.

When, over the last few months, I felt subtle shifts taking place in my body, I believed she was trying to tell me something, even if I couldn’t understand it.

When I learned I would need to undergo more testing before re-entering treatment, I heard my body say quietly, under her breath, that there’s no guarantee this test will have normal results. She told me to wait until I didn’t have other concurrent commitments, but at the same time, that I should have it done soon for there’s no point in unnecessary waiting. She reminded me of the futility in detailed planning for months in the future, because the first test needs to be clear before the other dominoes can fall into place, and I haven’t had that test yet. I believed her, but I still held on to hope that perhaps, she was worrying unnecessarily, like my mind tends to do. That for the first time, she might be wrong.

My body wasn’t worrying unnecessarily. She was right and proved, once again, how I can and must always believe her. 

walking away from anxiety

~ jennadawn ~ Leave a comment

Noticing, how
when I leave the house
ridden with anxiety
my breaths are short and shallow,
my steps quick and rigid,
resisting the urge to run and cry
at the same time,
anything to make this feeling go away.

After ten minutes
my breaths are short
but deep on the inhale,
strong and forceful on the exhale.

After twenty minutes
my breaths deepen
my stride lengthens
and I find a rhythm.

And after thirty minutes,
maybe more,
I feel the anxiety release its final talon
and fly away.

My breathing calm,
my steps easy,
I walk a bit further
to soak in this feeling
a little longer.

Let me soak in this feeling
just a little bit longer.

bacteria and toxins and irritants

~ jennadawn ~ Leave a comment

My body must be trying to tell me something
with her relentless outbursts
manifesting as
psoriasis
and eczema
and acne
and cysts
across my scalp
around my eyes
splattered on my face
because why not?

Creams and lotions
and acne-fighting facial cleansers
deploy to the offensive efforts.
Success is slow
and interjected with flare-ups.

I wonder if my body
is trying to rid herself
of bacteria and toxins and irritants.

I wonder if my body
is unintentionally attracting
bacteria and toxins and irritants
and for some reason
absorbing them, unable to let go?

I don’t like to see, to feel,
my body fighting a war
so I employ the creams and lotions
and acne-fighting facial cleansers
to help her restore balance and calm.

I know not for sure
her true message,
but her anguish is undeniable.

no more holding back

~ jennadawn ~ Leave a comment

I’m no longer interested
in holding back.
No more keeping things in my head.
I will write them all out,
release them all,
put everything I have into this story,
leave my whole heart out on the table.

There’s nothing for me to be afraid of
except myself
and I’m done with that.

No more holding back.