“I” [[a poem]] 

I am my own person. 

Depression can touch me but it cannot break me. 

Mania can keep me company but it will not outrun me. 

I am my own person. 

I can cope. 

I can heal. 

Myself… And others. 

I heal a little more as time passes by. 

I am my own person. 

No one can decide who I am but me. 

The person that I want to become is just on the horizon. 

She’s waiting for me to be ready.

I am my own person. 

I am stronger than I think.

I sleep in a warm bed of promises…

Promises that I’ve made for myself. 

Promises that are never too far away.  

I am my own person. 

I can feel the harsh winds striking my face, but I don’t allow them to scar me. 

They are fleeting. 

Just like you, depression. 

I am my own person. 

I spend my time laying in patches of green grass only to find that my mania has caused me to rip them from their roots. 

But it’s never too late to grow more. 

That’s something you must know, mania. 

I am my own person. 

I wade in the pool of inspiration and sacrifices. 

I wade, but I never dip my head in. 

Because my head does not sit idly with inspiration, and my mind does not dwell on the sacrifices I’ve made. 

I am my own person. 

I am my own person. 

I am my own person. 

And if you don’t understand that, depression and mania, then you have to go. 

I am my own person. 

And you are separate from me. 

-Jess 

Out with the old, in with the new

My new blog! Specifically geared toward depression and anxiety advice.

I JUST made it so it’s literally nothing yet.

But if you’d like to continue following me you can subscribe!

unitedindepression.wordpress.com

For those who think they’re failures

You wanna know what I think? You can fail an infinite amount of times. That doesn’t matter. You only need to succeed once.

-Jess

Take You Out

There’s no place anyone can hide

You’ve made sure of that.

You don’t ever feel alive

Unless you’re at the bat.

Let there be casualties

It’s what I have to do.

There’s a million and one things wrong with me

A million and two makes you.

I know If I don’t do this right

I won’t make it through the night, I’ve gotta-

Take you out.

I know what you’re all about.

Take you out.

Gotta keep my head above the ground the world’s-

Safe and sound.

I know you’re coming after me

No time to ask you why.

I can’t always be prepared

it has to be tonight.

Oh, when you’re knocking on that door

I’ll leave you on the floor, I’ve gotta-

Take you out.

I know what you’re all about.

Take you out.

Gotta keep my head above the ground the world’s-

Safe and sound. 

There is nothing here.

When you are down, they all say “It gets better.”

When you are up, no one says, “It get’s worse.”

Humans like to try and find a silver lining. They like to try and think positively, hope for the best. I, myself am a realist.

I do not hope it gets better. I make it better.

And I don’t expect things to stay good. I give myself time to enjoy the peace that will inevitably become depression.

There are no quotes, no sayings, no memories that can save me.

There are no moments worth living for.

There is no green grass. Not on this side or the other. This is it. This is all it is. This is all I am.

A body with functioning organs and a mouth who’s voice spews out inconsistencies and lies.

There is no soul, no light, no dark after this container is spent.

There is only now, and now is worse than any fate I could imagine. Now is pain that no human mind can combat.

Now is overrated.

How Dare You Tell Me To Be Happy.

“How can you see trees, animals, beautiful things, and happy children and still be depressed?”

Depression is not a reaction to something. It sees the trees blowing in the wind and tells you that you are worth less than them. It sees your friends smiling at you and tells you that they’d all be better off if you were to not exist.

It sees your heart and tells you that someone else deserves it more than you.

And not only do you have to keep on existing through the pain, but you have to find beauty in the trees, smile back at your friends as if nothing is wrong, and continue to let your heart beat.

Worse yet, you have to look into a child’s innocent smiling eyes and pray to the skies that they never know what this pain is like.

Do not tell me there is beauty all around when your narrator is different than mine.

There is no reason to live if those reasons don’t change what is happening to me.

I cannot not feel this way

I cannot fully explain the circumstances under which I live.

I cannot save the world.

I cannot change the world.

And if I change myself it makes no difference.

So I have decided to face the inevitable —

I am already dead.

Writing the things you can’t even say [[An Excerpt From a Larger Story]]

Lately my posts have been either all consumingly depressing or willingly positive. Because of the fact that I’ve been seeing only two options, I haven’t had a consistent frame of thought long enough to finish a coherent thought.

So now I won’t try to make this coherent. I won’t try to tell people what they want to hear. I won’t try to convince you that life is good or bad. I won’t attempt to make every word perfect or even worry about grammar (not that I ever really did).

I just want to write.

The beautiful gooey center that is writing without a cause.

I read a few quotes today to help me get out of this weird funk I’m in.

Here are some that are igniting something in me right now:

“Writers… write to give reality to experience.” – Archibald MacLeish

“Write what disturbs you, what you fear, what you have not been willing to speak about. Be willing to be split open.” – Natalie Goldberg

I think all of these quotes give different suggestions on what to write and where it should come from. Maybe I’ll try using a quote to write a piece every once in a while.

Tonight I want to use this one:

“Nothing haunts us like the things we don’t say.” -Mitch Albom


Sometimes I find myself wishing that I could have been good enough for many things throughout my life.

I don’t feel that I’ll ever get the chance to prove myself. I’m so small in a world full of people who stand out. I’m so lost in a sea of others just like me with aspirations, dreams, talent, misfortunes, and doubts that I have officially been permanently overlooked.

On a smaller scale I’ve been able to find a niche where I belong. A home, a job, a hobby or two, and a sense of responsibility. Surely if I was no longer here there would be a few people who depended on me that would not easily recover from the loss. 

But is that enough for me?

Is this enough for me?

Will anything ever be enough for me.

It seems anonymity follows me wherever I go.

The coffee shop on the corner of Clark and Wilson.

Riverside street on my way to nowhere.

Austin.

Chicago.

The mexican restaurant just outside work.

The truth is it doesn’t matter how many tears escape me in my time on earth.

Or how many times I move.

Or how many relationships I have.

Or how many laughs I share with someone.

Or how many purely beautiful moments I collect throughout the years.

Or how many people love me.

Or how many people fall in love with me.

Or how many lives I effect.

Or how many beers I drink.

Or how many books I read.

Or how many songs I listen to.

Or how many drugs I try.

Or how many posts I write.

Or how many moments of peace I get.

Someday I will die.

Whether by my own hand or by life’s.

And the people that mourned my loss, they will also die.

It will all be over.

And just like that… none of it will matter.

Worrying about it one way or another won’t change anything.

This is just the way it is.

And whoever controls it all must be laughing at us.

At all of the things we regret. All of the words we wrote. All of the times we cried. All of the fights we had. All of the times we worried. All of the what if’s we never got to conquer.

All of the times we beat death.

All of the times we wasted life.

All of the times we thought we had any power.

None of it mattered.

None of it ever mattered.

None of it ever will.

I hate to be the one to say it, but ultimately that doesn’t matter either.

Because I sit here in this ocean of no one’s and I am heard by few.

Isn’t that 

funny?

-Jess 

She Endures

Just a year ago she was neck deep in a depressive pool of nothingness.

Nothing hurt, everything hurt.
Nothing helped, never a lesson to be found.
No one understanding that what she has gone through, what she is enduring, and what she would suffer…

It was all for nothing.

She’d surely come out feeling stronger.
But at what cost?

Every first of February will be haunted by the almost ghost of herself.

Even fourth of July will now be stained by the world finding out about her 3 week hiatus from food.
every may will ache.
every June might, too.

Who knows? We’re only in the first year.

No one will ever truly understand what it felt like.

It was a black hole. An icy friend. A betrayal of her mind. Just recounting the pain provides her with a freshly tied knot in her throat.

That’s why this blog is important to her. Someone has to know, but more importantly, acknowledge what happened to her.

This illness came in the form of an earthquake ruining everything in its path. Though she hates to admit it, it left her wounded.

It was a trauma.

And some days she can still feel the tremors.

She is more prepared now. It’s a fair fight, but a fight in which there are no victors.

-Jess

What is a Grown Woman?


What is a grown woman? What does she look like? What does she act like? How can you tell the difference? Is there a real distinction?

A grown woman does not have to be past a certain age.

Nor dos she have to be a certain weight.

Nor a certain height.

She does not feel the need to people please.

She does not have to be perfect.

She does, however, have to be good enough for herself.

She does not participate in idle passive aggression.

She instead speaks her mind; She speaks with a purpose.

She does not let her emotions get in the way of her point.

She knows that it discredits her completely, therefore it can’t be taken seriously

She chooses to end further association with the immature women that do such things.

And as we all know, those women exist.

A grown woman feels free to be who she is.

Be it smart.

Be it funny.

Be it confident.

Be it messy.

Be it silly.

Be it trusting.

Be it impatient.

Be it gentle.

Be it loud.

Be it career focused.

Be it in love.

Be it single.

Be it creative.

Be it anything anyone doesn’t like about her.

A grown woman knows who she is and doesn’t let petty things get to her.

She is not afraid of confrontation when it’s necessary.

She does not hide from the people that don’t approve of her.

She can’t.

She won’t.

The most important piece of a grown woman, however, is that a grown woman knows she doesn’t have to have all the answers

because there’s no such thing.

-Jess

Not mine [[A Poem]]

Last night I was not myself.

I was no one.

I was nowhere.

I had no fingerprints.

No identity.

No past.

No present.

No future.


My hair was not mine.

My skin felt foreign.

I felt like a fraud that no one could see.

except him.

His gaze heavy with fervor, and I couldn’t bring myself to meet it.

for my eyes were not mine.


I wanted to want all the things I normally want, but I was not me.

There was a disconnect.

All of my serotonin had been used up.

There was nothing left.

He said, “It’s alright. You will be yourself again soon.”

He seemed to understand exactly how I felt.

Even though I was not acting like the girl he fell in love with.

I was acting like a clone of  her.

A clone that didn’t quite know how to be her.

But he was good for her. Not like the others.

It was nice to know she got what she deserved.

I knew she wouldn’t want to miss this.


Just an hour ago she was in pure bliss.

Everything was right. Everyone was right. Every moment mattered.

Every moment counted.

What happened to her? Where did she go? I missed her terribly.


I should not be in the limelight.

I should always be in the background. Deep deep down.

When I’m shoved to the forefront terrible things happen.

I’ve hurt her so many times.

Left her with scars that she did not cause.

Left her heart with a burden that she did not create.

And she has forgiven me so many times.

I wish I was stronger, but I am not.

All I can do is try to hold on till she can take over.

She tries to explain me to others, but I am what they call a stigma.

Most do not understand.

I just wanted him to be right.

That it would be over soon and I could rest.

I could watch her take on the world as she can when I’m at bay.


This morning I woke up and I was back in my little room.

I was cozy and warm under my covers. She had been here. She had been locked up in this room.

For her it is torture. She doesn’t belong here. This is my place.

She was back in her own body. In her own brain, and she felt at peace.

And he was so glad.

And so was I.

For her hair, her hands, her skin, her life –

are not mine.

The Frustrations of Having Depression

I hate depression.

It is so inconsistent

Either let me live my life or kill me.

Don’t toy with my emotions.

Don’t give me false hope.

Stop taking me on this stupid roller coaster.

I didn’t pay for this, I didn’t put myself on this ride, I don’t have my seat belt on or any proper restraints to help me.

I can only hold on for dear life and wonder if I’ll see the end.

What is the end?

Death. Whether it be today or tomorrow or 50 years from now, it’s death.

Depression, all you give me is time.

Time to hurt, time to over think, time to self loathe, time to sit with unspeakable pain, time to plan for nothing.

I hate depression.

It is so indecisive.

Set me free. Whichever way you want. Just set me free.

-Jess

Toxic People

Will you please leave me be?

I cannot breathe with pressure on me

you want me to be like you but

I’m not Hollow.

Will you stay far away?

You only know how to make me feel low

It’s because you feel low that you want me to follow

But I’m not hollow.

I wish you’d know

how hard it is to step out from behind your shadow

Let’s face it, that’s where I’ve always been

Always letting you win

Truth is If you actually cared

you wouldn’t want me standing there.

You ever have a conversation with someone that you think cares about you, and you find yourself leaving the conversation wondering if you’ve been insulted?

That was almost every interaction I had with Joseph.

I always just assumed he was trying to push me to be better or just making jokes, but eventually after a long time away from him, I realized he was trying to bump me down to his level.

It was his low self esteem that hurt our relationship. He felt that I was better than him in one way or another, so he tried to make me feel inferior to him.

Granted, him insulting me and making me feel worthless actually did make me improve certain parts of my life, so I guess it wasn’t all for nothing, but just because someone does shitty things to you and you thrive despite all of it doesn’t mean you owe them anything.

“Remember when you were fat Jessica and I couldn’t even hug you? At least now we’re at equal levels of attractiveness.”

“You’re messy, you take too long to get ready, you’re irresponsible, but I still love you despite all of the things you can’t do that you should be able to do at this age.”

“Don’t worry, Jess. It’s not your fault that you don’t get straight A’s. You went to public school.”

Fuck that guy.

I think the worst part of it all is that I unknowingly enabled it, though. I let him get away with it every time. And at first I thought that I should be extremely grateful for his help when I had depression, but now I’m starting to think on some level he liked me being depressed. It automatically made him in charge. He told me to go to therapy. He told me to take meds. He told me when I was cut off at every party.

And the moment I started to better my situation and overcome depression he was gone. Off to another girl who he claimed wasn’t as talented as he is in Cinematography. (And the cycle continues with someone else).

Joseph and I have cleared mostly everything up, and while I don’t hate or resent him, I won’t ever forget the things I had to learn the hard way through him.

I wish him all the happiness in the world, because part of the reason we didn’t work is the fact that he isn’t happy with himself. I wouldn’t wish that on anyone.

How could I not see that I was being treated so unfairly? It makes me worried for my future relationships. I just don’t want to be duped again for a whole other reason that I unknowingly go along with.

-Jess

“Always Ask ‘how?” Guest blogger #5: Elizabeth Walters

Today’s guest blogger’s name is Elizabeth. Her and I went to high school together and connected on so many levels. Mostly because we went through similar hardships in our childhood. She has turned to poetry as an outlet, and I’m glad she did because she’s extremely talented.

“Given the fabulous name of Elizabeth at birth. Military brat. Never had a place to call home. Never had friends I grew up with. So I found comfort in other things. Writing is one of the few that seem to do a bit of distracting from my dysfunctional life. Enjoy. Ciao!”

_________________________________________________________________________________________________

Why does she stay…

 

Breathing is my job.

You are my escape. Reality, forget me.

I forget you.

I am not the one falling in love.

My heart cannot.

Spending, bonding, with your first. Leaving.

My heart stayed.

Memories remain.

Secrets forever kept. Love will never regrow.

Memories is all we know.

You say, “I do.” But what if I say, “No.”

Till death do us part?

Desperation.

Urge.

Need.

Yet, hate.

Falling off the cliff is different than me jumping.

You were great.

To drive me to the place where the cliff sleeps, awake.

Loving me, stupid choice.

Loving you, no voice.

You handcuff me to your heart.

You swallow the key.

The only out is to watch you bleed.

Letting you go shall set me free.

Tears.

The weight of the world relying on our handshake.

Time waits for us to drop our hands.

Tick.

Tock.

A handshake of submission.

No freedom of speech. No vision.

No longer human.

Not dead. Not alive.

I feel you pulling me under.

Your heart beats in my head.

Holding my head upon your chest.

Held against my will.

Falling.

Murder or suicide?

Make me laugh.

Make me cry.

Hurt me one more time.

Make a sound.

Kill me sharply.

Drugs and knives,

Wrapped up with bowties.

Rape.

Beating.

Kicking and screaming.

This is my final testimony your reading.

I run.

The cliff.

It’s waiting on my right.

On my left is the dawn to my night.

I should choose

But I can’t.

Stop.

Turn around.

I see you.

“Manipulate me baby, just like you always do.”

_________________________________________________________________________________________________

Thank you, Liz, for your honesty and candor. Tomorrow will be my last guest blogger’s turn. He’s known for his 10 cities 10 years project, and I’m a huge fan. I hope you enjoy his writing as much as I do, but I don’t think it’s possible!

-Jess

Why are you doing this? [A Poem]

She asks why I’m doing this.

Why I’m so painfully quick to dismiss

The well paying job.

Provided by God

My very best friend.

My happy ‘the end’.

She asks why I can’t ever stand still.

I asked myself the same thing until

I realized that is who I am.

I’d rather be me than this fake scam.

My dearest, I simply cannot stand still.

I never could.

I never will.

I used to think it was a flaw

An unfulfilled life leading to yaw

Sometimes I’d spend hours wishing it away.

Trying to resist it every single day.

But my thirst for change has crept up on me.

I can no longer deny it, so you see.

I’ve decided to steer into the skid.

I have the control now, no longer that kid

I simply cannot and will not stand still.

I love who I am and I always will.

She asks why I always have to go big.

I don’t just want to exist.

I want to live.

-Jess

To: The One

I’ve been in love before.

He was everything to me.

But he wasn’t you.

And somehow, I knew.

When I wanted him again

he refused.

I missed him by a week.

a touch of fate for me.

My dad is gone.

and so is he.

but I know someday

you’ll be there for me.

The only man I need.

You’ll be kind.

You will care.

Won’t want to be anywhere

anywhere but in my arms.

Sometimes I falter.

I cry for another.

I seem to forget

I haven’t met you yet.

But you’re out there somewhere

getting yourself together

Just like I’m still here

surviving stormy weather

It will be a dream

to spend my life with you.

We’ll have the greatest love.

You’ll always follow through.

I will never let you go

I would call myself a fool

All the other loves

will seem so miniscule.

They say there are no soulmates

no one and only one.

but I will never stop believing

and you’ll never be outdone

The bookmarks we may encounter

we’ll leave on scattered pages

because we’ll both somehow know

they’re only temporary gages.

I won’t ask you to hurry

Because I’m still not ready

And rushing in a flurry

Has never left me steady

Perhaps when I first meet you

I won’t know it from the start

But someday it will click

that you were meant to have my heart.

Take all the time you need

Things will happen when they do

And until then, my soul’s duet

I’ll be seeing you.

________________________

No matter how many times people tell me that there is no such thing as a soulmate, I will always be the hopeless romantic that I am. There’s a reason why my past relationships didn’t work. And for me, it always came down to not wholeheartedly feeling like they were the one. I’m going to meet the guy for me someday, and when I get to know him, I’ll finally thank all the other people that hurt me. They made way for the amazing person that I’m meant to be with, and vice versa.

To my past loves, it was a pleasure knowing you for a little while.

To my future loves, I’m sorry if things don’t work out.

To my soul mate. I’ll be seeing you.

-Jess

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New Chapter (Goodbye)

We collided

There’s no easy way to say it.

couldn’t survive it

But I’m happy I didn’t break you.

And if I did I hope she fixes you.

My wish for you is to mesh with someone

like we never could.

My blessing isn’t empty

and I don’t know if I should

it’s incredibly hard to give.

You were always my best friend.

But as they always do

things will work out in the end.

Still, what we had is not easily erased

All that time I thought I had been replaced.

But that wasn’t the case

And our love will always matter

So I finally decided that I can’t be mad at her.

You’ll always have a place in this recovering heart.

I remember all the good times in this time we’ve had apart

autumn days

rainy nights

a guitar and a mic

infinite moments

a beautiful life.

That life is over now

and it’s time to stay strong

let go of you

and try to move on

I’m going at it alone for now

because I feel I must

but sometimes it still hurts

that you let go of us.

Every day my goal gets nearer

I see the finish line is clearer

I’ll always remember the scar

above your left eye

and how you held me

when I used to cry.

And now it’s time

for this chapter to end

Goodbye my once loved, my beautiful friend.

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Do I?

Do I bum you out?

Does every word that come out of my mouth make you worry?

Did it feel any different when I said them six months ago?

Do I scare you?

Do I deserve to be here?

Do I want to be here?

At the end of the day, is my life worth all of the pain and suffering?

Do I sound crazy?

Do I?

I might.

I might even be crazy to think I fit into this perfect little puzzle.

I’m not like everyone else.

I’m not meant to be like everyone else.

Maybe I’m meant to die young.

Maybe that’s all this was for.

Or maybe I’ll do something great.

Something so great i’ll be remembered for it forever.

But tonight I’m just a sick little existential flea.

Tonight I’m just me.

Just Jess.

And I may be really messed up.

And I may use “and” at the beginning of every other sentence.

And I may eat my cup o’ noodles like a freak.

And I may be extremely depressed.

And I may have lived through a shithole of a childhood.

And I may never know what it’s like to be normal.

And I may only be good at lots of things, but never great at one thing.

But that’s me.

That’s Jess.

And I accept that this is who I am right now.

I accept that a thousand different decisions and mistakes and accomplishments and sacrifices and memories made me this way.

Do you?

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