A Darker Side Of Me

Photo by Mitja Juraja on

If I could get one wish, it would be a conversation with a ghost. For only the dead can explain why I must cherish living. Are you scared yet?

When I think of heaven, I see this entirely different world: white clouds, just a sense of peace. When I see hell, well, it’s hot. It resembles a wildfire, burning the flesh of the condemned while they scream in agony.

How many people ask themselves, I would love a conversation with the dead. Are you brave enough? If given a chance, would you accept the invite?

Let me reiterate why I want an audience with death. To get an understanding of why I must cherish living. Have you ever asked yourself what dying feels like?

Do you leave your body and your soul becomes conscious or is everything black, and you disappear, not knowing you left the world of the living?

Do I get to come back? How much time do I spend watching my family? Do I eventually go away?

If I could sit down with the dead, It would be an exciting conversation.

It’s Just One Of Those Days

Admire The Smile

Before I begin, please don’t tell me sex helps with stress. I’ve yet to find a compatible partner. Now let’s start.

Lord,😩😩Are those bags under my eyes? I’ve endured a stressful, depressing, and emotional few weeks. I’ve been fighting back the tears while fighting to keep my composure.

My pretty red hair is a mess, and it needs a do-over. My diet is probably tired of being on hold. My life is currently under construction 🚧. My love life is lagging while my ovaries are patiently waiting for a donor. My sex drive has suffered. But my depression has won the election, which is not suitable for the body/soul/& mind.

I’m simply trying to survive in this twisted mind of mine. While picking at each thought carefully, fearful I may unravel an anxiety attack or negative thinking I happened to overlook.

I’ll continue down this rugged path until something positive comes along. Until then, I’ll sit with my depression and count every negative aspect of my life.

I Am Hurting

I guess happiness never lasts long, and sadly that is the card dealt. To be stable one minute and unstable the next is nothing more than a roller coaster ride. Yet all I can do is allow the emotion to pass while maintaining my composure. Smile while crying inside. No one can ever tell me; how I feel as we each experience life in our way.

I can’t appreciate the positive in my life because I am preoccupied with intrusive and unwanted thoughts that threaten my state of mind. My Borderline Personality Disorder is working overtime. I’ve forgotten what it feels like to be an average person.

All I can do is practice my DBT skills when an emotion, behavior or impulsiveness, rear its head around the corner.

What’s even more bothersome are my children growing up in a home with a depressive mother. How this affects, I’m not sure as I stay far away from understanding any of their emotions that I cause. For the most part, I try to provide them with a happy life.

I take advantage of the days I’m feeling upbeat by spending time with my children because it’s the only opportunity they will ever get.

They keep their distance when I’m not well. It’s not a good feeling when your child approaches you to ask if you’re happy before asking for something. If I say no, we turn away and go our separate ways.

The only thing that keeps me is writing.

My Happy Place

My happy place is below a hill surrounded by green pasture. The lake is crystal blue and as I stand on the shore I allow the water to wash against my feet as I stare down on the multicolor stones. My happy place has palm trees as tall as a skyscraper. I lay still and allow myself to float while the wind whistles through my hair (serenity). I’m walking through the forest in a white mesh rope, with the tail following behind. My forest is green and full of life. I walk with my hands out and my head tilted to the sky; I smile while being mindful. With the sun beaming down on my face, my forest is my resting place.

Ahead of me, a lion approaches, we greet each other by bowing our heads. In this part of the forest, I am the lioness. We run side by side as fast as we can until we reach the end of a cliff. I faced the king and allowed myself to fall gracefully into the crystal clear water, floating as I’m smiling. I reached the shores and disappeared into the trees. In this forest, I have wings. I am a bird, and I can swear as high as I want. Flying through the clouds, I let out a burst of laughter as I descend to land. With my wings spread high, I disappear into the brushes.

I’m in a tropical rain forest, dressed in a sheer blue gown, and so are the warrior marks on my face. I pad like a predator hunting its prey. In this forest, I’m a mighty warrior, the protector of this land. I’m walking through an open field covered in dandelions. I’m naked. I move slowly through the plains while being mindful of my surroundings. I can hear the birds chirping; as I look down on my feet, I can see the due glistening on the grass. As I slowly look up, I see her, Mother Nature steering in my face. She reaches for my hand and leads me into the forest. I find myself back at my resting place, swinging on a hammock. I gently close my eyes and fall asleep. In this forest, I am me.

I am resting in my happy place.

My happy place is below a hill surrounded by green pasture.

Sixteen and Pregnant

You are six months pregnant, Gillian; those were the words the doctor uttered. My mother collapsed in her seat. She yelled at me and bolted out the door. The doctor went after her, “Mrs. Griffiths wait, all’s not lost. There is hope for your girls as herself.” As my mother entered the room, I held my head low, too ashamed to look her in the eyes. I remembered her asking me why I lied when she first asked if I was pregnant. All I could do was hold my head low and respond softly to every question. On the way home, she argued with me; she was not upset but somewhat disappointed.

Now came to the hard part, explaining to my father that he was right all along. A month before finding out I was expecting, my father had confided in my mother that he believed I was pregnant. She shrugged him off and accused him of wishing pregnancy on me. Determine to prove her wrong, and she was given the funds need to make an appointment at the clinic. When we arrived home, my father was in the backyard smoking his cigarette. I quickly walked past without saying hello. My mother proceeded behind me at the same pace.

I went into my room and sat between the bed and radiator, crying. My father walked in and said, “I am buying you a one-way ticket back to Jamaica.” I screamed, no, daddy! My mother, although distraught, was able to gather her thoughts together and spoke up for me. She informed my father that I would not be going back home. Sending me home would only make matters worse. My father ignored her and phoned my birth mother, who lives in Jamaica. He explained the situation and his resolution. She pleaded with my mother not to have my father send me home. She assured my mother no such thing would take place under her watch. I was safe! My mother stood up for me. My father, on the other hand, walked out of the house

I Am Gillian Griffiths, Sixteen & Pregnant & This Is My Journey

It is Saturday morning, and my nightmare was not a dream. Is this happening, and there is a life growing inside of me. My childhood is over, and I am about to be a mother at sixteen. How can a baby have a baby? That morning I stayed in my room, afraid to face anyone outside my door. One of my sisters came over, and we sat in my room with my other two sisters. She held me, and we cried together. I remember asking if I could give the baby up for adoption, and the response was “no!” I am not sure what happened after that conversation, but I remember my dad coming home late every night. My mom took charge of my diet and made sure I ate healthily. That Monday morning, I was back in school.

My First Office Visit

Please pass me a minor pap smear, the doctor shouted out the door. What is a pap smear, I thought to myself? I was at the clinic with my older sister. It was time to get checked for STDs, and I was nervous. My sister stayed in the room for the pap smear. It was the worst feeling ever! I wouldn’t say I liked every minute of it. I quickly got dressed and headed out of the room. Lidia, what’s wrong? my sister asked. I’m in pain, I replied. She laughed at me. A few days later, I was back at the doctor’s. This time at the hospital with my younger sister for an ultrasound. My father drove us to the hospital. When it was time for the ultrasound, he declined to enter the room.

My sister came instead. As the ultrasound became clear, there was the baby, we both laughed. We were looking at the life I was carrying. It’s a girl! The doctor said. I remember my sister overjoyed because she was going to be an aunt. Remember my sister overcome with joy. The doctor gave me a copy of the ultrasound. After we walked out of the room and back to the waiting area, my dad asked was a boy. I said no, a girl. He mumbled, “great, more trouble.” I wasn’t upset at my dad; he was having a hard time adjusting. He was hoping for a grandson because he only had two girls. For some unknown reason, he came home early one night. I was sitting in the dining room eating the veggies my mother forced on me. My father in that night and touched my stomach. My daddy was becoming more accepting.

Her Grand Entrance

The doctor or no doctor, she was ready for her grand entrance. The nurses had no other choice but to deliver her. The nurses informed me of no epidural because they didn’t have my health records on me. It was time to push. Was this happening? I’m not ready yet. AHHHH!!, push!! AHHH! Push! The last screamed frighten my father, and he came barging in. One of the nurses told him I was naked and he couldn’t go in there. Then we heard a cry, a squeaky cry, and there she was. She was tiny with a caramel complexion. She weighed 4lbs, 5oz. I was exhausted, my mother stood at the door, and we just looked at each other. For that moment, I was lost and scared. After she was clean, the nurse handed her to me. She was beautiful, innocent, she didn’t care about my age, could not judge me, I was her mommy, and she was my life.

It’s Saturday morning, and I was still in the delivery room. The nurse that came to clean me up was very nasty. I was too depressed even to argue back. One of the nurses escorted me to my room, and thankfully I didn’t have a neighbor. The second nurse on shift was Jamaican like myself. She spoke encouraging words and smiled with me. I quickly forgot about the nasty nurse. Later that day, my mother, sister, and niece visited me in the hospital. They cooed over the baby as I ate mommies’ home-cooked meal. They gave me a list of names that the family that they agreed on. That afternoon, we picked her name. I held her in my arms and admired her. Around 8 pm that night, her father showed up. He was so excited to see her. He held her in his arms and just stared at her. She’s beautiful, is all I remembered him saying.

She’s Not Coming Home

Happiness doesn’t last forever. Due to my daughter’s premature birth and weight, Tina could not go home. I was devastated. I would be leaving the hospital without my sunshine. The doctor informed me she needed to gain a little more weight before being discharged. The hospital kept her in an incubator due to her having Newborn jaundice. I took one last looked at her before going home. My room was clean; diapers, wipes, baby lotions, and a car seat were waiting for me when I got home. It felt great being back home. For a week, her father and I visited the nursery. On the last day of that week, the doctor’s told me she could finally go home. That was the best gift I got that Christmas. When she arrived home that day, my father asked for her that night. I dressed her in a pink nightgown that covered her from head to toe. He laid her on his tummy and just admired her. He was in love, and that was the start of a very comical relationship. My mother and older sisters took the lead in teaching me the ropes of mamahood. Breastfeeding was not one of them. I found it uncomfortable and bottle-fed. Within a week, she was 6lbs 5 oz. Her pediatrician was shocked by how quickly she gained weight. Well, of course, she had an enormous appetite.

It was time to begin homeschooling until I could return to school. My science teacher was surprised that I was the student she would be homeschooling. She didn’t judge me, and I was thankful for that. To allow me to concentrate on my studies, she attended to Tina’s needs. Homeschooling went well, and I passed with flying colors. By January, I was back in school and couldn’t be happier. I recalled my English teacher greeting me with a smile and welcoming me back. It didn’t take long before I got back into the hang of things.

A New Journey

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Fast forward two years later. I finally graduated from high school with Tina cheering on from the bleachers. For me, it wasn’t just graduation but also an accomplishment. It was now time to focus on my future while setting long and short-term goals. I found myself in college two weeks after graduation. My major was in Networking & Administration.

  1. The piece… oozed your displeasure with the hapless victim you wanted stationed behind you.

I’ve Unlocked The Memories That Needed To Stay Locked Away

Why do I even fight? Why do I even bother? I’m suffering from a mental illness that I am working to control. With the help of weekly therapy and medication. Despite this illness, I am determined to push through and fight. I enrolled in a Master’s program because it was a goal I wanted to achieve. I dropped my class last week because I earned an F which affected my team members as well. I tend to act on impulsiveness and immediately fell into the category and decided to start over. I couldn’t handle the F. As simple as this may seem to others, it was difficult for me to digest.

As a result of this, I once again inadvertently open the doorway to a painful childhood memory. I remembered being in second grade, and a student by the name of Christina had told our teacher I stole a textbook. I remembered walking around the classroom searching for the book I never stole. The teacher told me I was a thief, while the other students stood by watching. Christina insisted I did steal the book.

I’m not sure what took place after that; what I know is the book was found hidden, and Christina admitted she lied. I remember the teacher comforting me and apologizing. I locked this memory away for over three decades. During the therapy, we discussed whether I was making the right decision with the school? Is it too soon? It seems, when I get a failing grade, it triggers painful childhood memories.

I endured a painful childhood in school. Over the past few months, I’ve had memories invading my mind.

It was hard to digest because I want this degree, but to what extent? The one thing that’s supposed to give me joy? has now turned into a trigger for painful memories.

I can’t seem to get anything right. Now I’m wondering if I should put school off or don’t go back.

Losing Hope

I’ve been struggling with emotions for the past month—just me being unhappy with life. Every day when I awake, I can’t seem to find happiness. As the day goes on, I try to find some form of joy to no avail. Eventually, I can feel the despair and accept the day for what it is. Sadly this war-fear is getting tiring. I’ve been searching for my meaning in this world, my existence, my purpose. I’ve yet to find the answer and refuse to have anyone define the person I am, based on their beliefs. I’ve yet to accept my emotions and the life I’ve created, and the damage that will arise.

My feelings are reckless, and with each passing day, I’m becoming unstable. I feel myself growing distant from myself. I am losing faith in finding my soulmate. Within the first year of marriage, I wanted to escape. I am grateful for my blessings, but at the same time, I feel curse. My existence will be a mere memory to those who love or claim to love me in due time. If I die today, will my soul wonder and eventually find peace? Or will I forever be trapped in my selfishness, for this is how I feel? I am complicated to understand and rebuff when others try to tell me who or what I am. I am encouraged not to stress what I cannot control. For me, that isn’t easy to deal handle. I fear a future that has yet come.

I Dreamt Of Africa

I dreamt of Africa.

I was a guest at a tribe’s home. It was a treehouse, and the only way to reach the ground was to free-fall with ropes wrapped around your waist. I stood on the edge of the entrance as I was tied to one of the tribe’s men. In the dream, I could feel the fear of falling; it seemed so natural. Once we were bound together, we descended to the earth while the rope unraveled around our waists. When we hit the ground, there were mountains and green pastures. The land was full of life; deer’s were running through the fields. Their fur blended in perfectly with the grass. I stood on a mountain top observing Mother Nature.

The sunshine made it all the better. As we were heading back home, I peered to the right of me, and there was my reality, It was home. It was a construction site, and it had desert scenery. It was two worlds standing side by side. I, however, chose to follow the steep path that leads us back to the village. When we got home, we informed the others that the land was full of life and the crops were growing. We were scouts, sent out to check on the ground.

I went to rest on the cot, as I was tired because I was carrying a new life.

I awoke full of life

Dear Depression

Your Host

Dear Depression,

I see you’ve been active. Never a dull day with you. Sometimes I ask myself if you take vacations. If not, can you? I enjoy my life and the little bit of happiness I feel when I arise to a new day. But no, the mood never lasts long. You’re always near, rearing your head around the corner. I guess you saw me smiling, and that angered you. Each day is a struggle, for as I awake, so do you. When I sleep, my dreams are nothing but nightmares. You’ve attached yourself like a parasite, feeding off my fears, my emotions. I am latching on for dear life or until my heart stops. The constant battle I endure each day has weakened me. No strength to fight on; this never-ending battle is taking a toll on me. What lies beneath this smile is something, someone worth living.

My smile is the master of disguise

My smile is the master of disguise. If only they knew the struggle I go through. Sometimes I feel trap; some days, I awaken and know not myself. Some days I awaken and wish I had stayed asleep. Some days I feel great, and just like that, you snatch whatever happiness I was looking forward to that day. What lies beneath this smile is something, someone worth living. My smile is the master of disguise. If only they knew the struggle I go through. Dear Depression, go away. Let me live, let me breathe, let me, love, let me live in peace. What lies beneath this smile is something, someone worth living. I’m afraid I may lose the battle because I am growing weary. But I must keep pushing; even when my mind is wondering, my heart still sees a glimpse of hope. What lies beneath this smile is something, someone worth living. So I will keep fighting, keep arising to a new day and take on the challenges you have stored. For beneath this smile is a worthy life fighting, someone worth living.

Sincerely your Host.

Why Do I Eat Alone

It’s Saturday January 2nd 12:00(PM).

I’m at Friday’s having a Margarita. Please don’t judge me, I need this drink, it’s been a long 2020. Ringing in the New Year with one of my favorite drinks.

Did I mentioned I’m dining out alone? Strange to some, but perfectly normal to me. We need alone time to sit with our thoughts,focus and enjoy me time. The first time I had dinner with myself was six years ago.  I was stressed and needed to relax. The idea of having dinner alone made me uncomfortable.  Who would sit at a table and eat by themself. 

Well I did and it felt embarrassing, but I got use to it. It was needed, because it was a few hours away to  unwind, breathe and relax. Is it wrong in wanting to escape just for a few hours? I was so focus on someone seeing me, that I forgot to focus on my own mental stability. Too busy focusing on the perception of others.

To over come this negative way of thinking, I kept dining out alone. No longer worrying about other’s perceptions. My happiness matter, escaping for a few hours is not a crime. Wanting to sit alone and enjoy lunch is not out of the ordinary.

Okay…It’s time for me to end this post. I’ve finish eating. Please tip.