8/17/2024

“Nobody can tell that I can’t breath

So I scratch at the rip in my jeans

I’m hoping that if I scratch hard enough

I’ll forget what this stupid feeling means

I can’t breathe, I feel it

Like a heaviness in my chest

I’m sitting in the car desperately wishing that my brain would rest

Somebody tries to talk to me

But I stopped paying attention long ago

This cute little part of me is my least favorite for people to suddenly know

They never stay long after this

I’m abandoned like a broken doll

Something someone once admired

Someone for who they would never fall

I’m always in a car when it happens

Silly little me

I’m just sitting here so how bad could my anxiety really be

Then something shifts

I’m falling into a boiling pool head first

I’m sprinting ten miles

I’m panting from the thirst

I’m spinning in checkerboard circles

I’m scratching at the seat

He asked if I’m hungry but when I’m anxious I can’t eat

I’m suffocating in fresh air

I’m slamming my head into a wall

They never stay long after this

They always remember not to call

Suddenly I’m screaming in my dreams

I’m refusing any caffeine

If they knew how hard I fought to stay

Maybe they wouldn’t be so mean

I’m shaking on the floor

Rough emotions stuck in air

I hate when this happens

He tries to touch my hair

I’m moving in a stopped car

I‘m cemented to the past

And then of course I start crying

The frustrated tears always come fast

They never stay long after this

After I’ve shown too much

And it has nothing to do with my body

Just my mind’s strong punch

It’s a solo rescue mission

Only me against me

And they never stay long after this

Because I’m not who they wanted me to be

I put the window down because now I really can’t breathe

And it doesn’t make it any better that I know that they’re about to leave

I tell him to pull over

I can’t do it, I need to stop

And it always happens so suddenly

We had just been laughing in a coffee shop

He follows close behind

They always follow at the beginning

Then they whisper a goodbye

While my ears are still ringing

I’m burning up from the inside

There’s ants on my skin

This is what I remember when people ask me how I’ve been

Heat radiates off of the ground

So he puts a cold cup in my hand

He helps me get up

He balances me while I try to stand

He whispers that “the ice is suppose to help”

Cold water cools the side of my face

My heart slows down then

I almost forgot that it had a non-panicked pace”

-Celia

8/15/2024

I’ve always thought I had a bad memory

Sometimes I wish it was worse…

Bad enough to split off from me completely

Something about the words on the page rushes in the memory of my night

(Dream)

It’s a party

All my extended family is here

The crowd is loud and joyful

I’m however, unsettled

I’m obsessively scanning the room

Left to right, left to right

Left to ri- he walks in

All the air leaves my body

Leaving my muscles deflated and motionless

I can feel his anger

I broke the most important rule- say nothing

The world become muffled

I heard myself from a distance say, “I’m going to go”

Only one cousin hears me, “As you should”

The moment I muster up the strength to take a step…

The volume is turned up

There’s a sharp pain around my arm

His rage infects me…

His face meets mine

The scent feels like shards of glass up my nostrils

Fear stops my heart

I choose death…

I wake up exhausted once again

Returning to a body that doesn’t feel mine

Inheriting a body that seems to have just climbed Mount Everest

And I had nothing to do with it

I’m hot, I’m cold

I’m drenched

Tonight I’m too pissed to change my shirt

I peel off the t-shirt and toss it across the room

I try not to but I cry myself to completion…

8/8/2024

It’s a joke-I knew this going into it

But it was more than that

It had the sting of a personal joke

The sounds seemed to get louder and echo in my head

They used to come off my body

The keys banging up against your hip

The squeakiness of your boots on the floor

The subtle sound of the material rubbing between your legs

I could smell it

I could hear it

I could see it so clearly it felt like I was looking directly into the sun

The buckle on my purse began to rattle in the quiet room

I trace it back to my hands

I notice my heart beating in my throat

Embarrassment instantly takes over

Not here…

It’s not safe here

They discuss the importance of justice and fairness

“The system is here to help you when you need it”

My lips begin to go numb

It spreads to the rest of my face

Luckily the rest is vague

I disconnect to make it as long as I can

It builds- ultimately I fall apart

The gate is open and the feeling scares me

It’s more than anger

It’s more hatred

I failed today

I can’t seem to find any justice in this world

There’s no balance

I watch my mind commit crimes against itself

Nothing ever seems to change…

8/3/2024

What am I suppose to do now?

I struggle to stay as it is

But now I what, try? Fight? Care?

What a fucked up thing

I fear the pain…

I’d do anything to avoid the feeling

I’m disconnected

I can’t feel my own touch

This isn’t mine

The disgust makes me nauseous

I can’t silence the noise

7/15/2024

(Dream)

I’m setting up a bath for him

He’s a puppy still

I leave him in the tub as I go grab my baby brother

I come back with him wrapped around my hip

I find him motionless and under water

The water rose too fast…

I place my brother on the bath mat

I pull the puppy out

He’s limp

I try to pump the water out of him

I fail

A sudden sharp pain in my chest collapses me

Feels like my ribs are snapping

It intensifies every second till it wakes me

7/12/2024

(Dream)

He’s sick

I’m trying to save his life but the meds are expensive

And I’m too broke to afford it

A cousin requests ownership of him to cover his vet bill

I let him go…

He looks at me with disappointment as I hand him over

His eyes turn cold

A look I’ve never seen before in him

The heat rises

I’m angry

I lost him

He was taken from me

My father mocks my tears

He calls me “estupida”

I erupt

Chairs go flying

And suddenly I’m in his face

I want the fight

I want to be destroyed

I taunt him

He warms his hand up on my face

The anger keeps me going

I’m breaking everything in sight

Screaming at, I don’t know who

I’m pulled out

The anger is still present

I’m shaking…

Then the tears come

7/12/2024

I say my brain is like a bundle of tangled Christmas lights. I refer to it’s darkness by describing it as a few crossed wires. It’s mess… It implies that there’s a way to untangle it, to simply uncross the wires, or clean it all up. It implies hope… I’ve fixated on my brain all my life. Trying to find ways to understand it and explore answers. I’ve been in therapy for over a decade. I’ve tried different forms of treatment. I’ve complied and listened to every piece of advice. I’ve sought out people smarter than me. I’ve tired to attack it from all angles- physical, psychological, spiritual. I've fought to gain access to resources that could help me. I’m grasping for things to hold on to. Things that could weigh me down.

I don’t know what to do with this feeling. The more tools I compile, the more this feeling grows.

It rolls in like a quiet fog. Before I know it, I’m consumed. It’s only in retrospect that I can pick up on the change in climate. My lack of clarity and focus only increasing.

There’s a deck of cards shuffling in my head. Mixed with the good and the bad stuff. There’s a push and pull as I flip through the options. I try to give the good more weight. I try to convince myself to hold on to these things.

I don’t even know what to call this kind of desire. This shadow, this fog, this demon, monster. It’s so embedded in me. It couldn’t be me…could it?

You tell me my mind is brilliant. You say it’s art, it’s philosophical. You tell me to paint it! To write it! To refrain from judging it and simply witness. None of this feels like art! None of this I want to talk about! None of it I want to witness! I’m tired of watching the cycle rinse and repeat. I’ve gotten real good at disconnecting from myself. It’s the only way I know to escape it so I can catch my breath. But you, you ask me to stay, to listen, and watch. You want me to describe what it’s like to watch the weight of nothingness consume me!?

There’s no art in it...

I watch myself pace around my apartment before bed. Fully aware of how exhausted I am yet feeling so incredibly wired.

I watch myself struggle to sooth myself-with the sound of water, the weight of my blanket, the rocking of my legs, the smell of lavender, the humming in my chest.

I watch myself wake up far too early-fully alert but my eyes burn if I hold them open.

I watch myself struggle to peel myself off the mattress.

I watch myself compensate with strong coffee.

I watch myself forget to brush my teeth all day.

I watch myself blame it on forgetting.

I watch myself forget to shower.

I watch myself struggle to get my hair and face to tell a different story.

I watch my stomach forget to cue me to eat.

I watch as I force myself to eat.

I watch how it triggers nausea and sometimes I vomit.

I watch myself disconnect and do the one thing I know how to do.

I watch how I unravel the second I’m off-duty.

I watch as the anger grows.

I watch as I try to bang it out.

I watch as it ironically causes relief.

I watch how I reach for the whiskey.

I watch how I try to breathe instead.

I watch as I begin to contemplate the methods.

I watch as I decide stretching might help.

I watch as I panic and raid my kitchen.

I watch as the nausea triggers disgust.

I watch as I open and close my alcohol cabinet.

I watch as I try to read.

I watch how the itching of my skin leads me to scratch it deeply.

I watch as I try to sketch.

I watch as I struggle to focus.

I watch myself pour another glass.

I watch myself settle and wish for something stronger.

I watch myself think about the pills, the blades, the bullets.

I watch myself decide to breathe.

I watch myself try the yoga.

I watch as the bruises settle and ache.

I watch as I decide a shower could help.

I watch as I collapse into the tub and decide it’s more energy than I have.

I watch as I try to trigger my humor with another special.

I watch as I try to access love in this world.

I watch as I struggle to climax for the dopamine.

I watch as I fight to stay one move ahead of my own mind.

I watch as I struggle.

I watch as I terrify myself.

I watch as I humiliate myself.

Nothing about this brilliant! It’s just the result of mess I can’t seem to clean up. If I’m lucky, it’ll pass in a couple weeks. Then the panic attacks take over for some time. Rinse and repeat.

7/7/2024

The starter isn't always so obvious

They can be subtle too

It's not just fireworks that ignite the sensations in my body

It's the humming of the night

The way the planes sound above me

The way the air in this house lacks oxygen

I make my way up to the roof

To replenish the oxygen lost

I'm searching for the worlds that exist around me

Lives and stories adjacent to mine

I listen and watch as others move through their night

At night, voices travel

At night, people leave their curtains wide open

I let my mind wonder into their homes

Into their lives

And I imagine a different ending to mine...

At the very least it serves as a distraction

A safety net I can get myself tangled in

I've engaged in this exercise since I was a kid

Hoping that these stories would tape over the ones I carry

Images flicker as the insects make their music

My intestines make knots they undo and redo

I close my eyes and cover my ears

But just like you can feel the rumble of sound with noise canceling ear plugs

And the sun's brightness can reach your retina no matter how sealed your lids are

My memories can find me too...

7/5/2024

(Dream)

I’m in a restroom

I'm approaching the mirror

Before I can see my reflection, I’m yanked up

I’m being held up by a ghost

I can't scream

There’s no sound

I reach for the shower curtain

When I gab the rod- i’m dropped

I turn the door knob but it won't open

It's locked

I’m banging on the door

The fear becomes too much

…Brings me back to consciousness…

7/2/2024

I wear socks to keep my feet warm

Asinine behavior for rooms likes these

As a rule, I generally resist wearing socks

Or pants for that matter

But keeping these pieces of fabric on my body is necessary

A silly attempt at grasping for any comfort

I focus on the subtle flicker of the lights above me

Until I become one with the ceiling

The world disappears as I go under water…

The crackling of the paper beneath me repulses me

Please hurry…

The poking and prodding stops

My body is too heavy to move

It’s unresponsive to my directives

I suddenly drop from the ceiling

Pealing off the residue of memories from every inch of myself

I wipe my face and brace myself for the exit

I don’t make it more than five steps

Disappointment and shame pour out of me

I’m compelled to disappear into her office chair

I know she wants to sell me on the next steps

Comfort me with the knowledge of it being necessary

That I’m doing the right thing

Despite my continuous discomfort

I’m not an idiot

I don’t object to the reasoning

Reasoning however, doesn’t bring me comfort or make me feel brave

There isn’t anything she could say to get this other part of me to buy in

The part of me that needs the socks…

She’s screaming…

It’s echoing in my skull…

And just to make Her stop, I’d leave all the fabric on…

But for now, I sell Her on the fantasy

One more- just one more time

And maybe then, we can be done…

7/1/2024 12am

Chest tight

Like someone bound it when I was a kid

Now there's no room for air

No space to grow into

Restless

6/29/2024

“I’m not feminine enough… broken enough”

“People have had worse”

“How could I have the life I have now if it was all true?”

She’s bubbling underneath the surface

I place my hand on my stomach to keep Her still

More importantly, to acknowledge what I’ve spent so many years denying Her

I allow Her to be present, to just be

She’s the strength that allows me to suspend time and space

She’s the wisdom I need to read between the lines

She’s the bravery I lend to my clients

People habitually state that grief is something you let go of

That your suffering is due to your inability to release it

I’m not so sure I believe in this perspective

I don’t think you can let go of grief

I think the suffering lies with your degree of resistance to the presence of that pain

Blaming someone’s suffering to their inability to let it go seems unjust

I could be wrong, but this is the instinct that pulls me

It’s the loudest thought the moment they begin to speak

The second, someone begins to describe the branded memories tormenting their soul…

I don’t think you can fix grief

I don’t think you can cure it away

It's like telling someone who’s having an appropriate response that they’re wrong for having it

And they only suffer because they can’t let it go

Just as I begin engaging with the intrusive thought, “Am I even helpful?”

She pauses at the door, takes a breath, and then a moment to mouth, “Thank you…”

6/24/2024

I’m not good with asking for help

In moments like these, I freeze

I go in circles-don’t know how to make a decision either way

Letting someone help me requires going against my nature

I’ve unpacked it and looked at it all kinds of ways

Doesn’t make these moments any easier

This time last year, was the same thing

I watched my friends show up

One by one, each picking up my literal baggage…

The entire process was uncomfortable

Took half the day but the hours felt like days…

It unsettled me in every way

I am deeply grateful for the privilege of calling them friends

I just can’t seem to stop resisting this way of relating

I worry I cannot not repay them for their sacrifice

It makes me uneasy to wonder if it’s pity

I can sort it out on my own

Find the resources I need even if it’s more of headache

Because I can, I feel that’s the right option

But over and over again they force themselves in

If I close one door, they open a window

I don’t know why they keep trying

I don’t get why they show up

I just know I’m stuck and deeply grateful for them…

6/19/2024

I’ve been invisible all my life

Being visible never resulted in anything positive…

It’s been safer to blend in with my shadow

Catching someone’s attention was misery

Till this day, if someone looks at me for a millisecond too long

It feels like my skin in shrinking

Like all my insides are about to be evicted

If I could, I’d walk through life with my back up against walls

Walls hold me up straight

They keep me steady when my knees get weak

There’s comfort in being invisible

It’s safe, and familiar

However, it does come with it’s faults

Being invisible means being overlooked

It means being underestimated in more ways than one

It means having to fight harder to prove myself

And when others find it to be, “a big deal” …

For someone “like me”-I only want to retreat

Back into the safety of my shadow

I’ve lingered in the spaces of average

Teachers never saw me as the smart kid

Counselors had long given up on any potential

Bullies miscalculated the weight of my punches

I’ve never been the prettiest girl in a room

There was never anything really exceptional about me

I’ve benefitted from their errors in judgement

It allowed me to recklessly do as I pleased

No one would miss me if I ditched class

No one’s dusty son was trying to catch my attention at parties

No one expected anything more than what I was I doing-destroying myself…

There have been times I was fooled into thinking things could be different

A spark of hope would lead me to believe that someone could see me

Like actually see me

I’m ashamed to admit there’s a part of me that wonders

That’s curious about would it’d be like to be like to exist in that world

To be accepted and appreciated

To be loved in all my average-ness

To be anything, but invisible to just one person

And to them, I could be exceptional

I could be anything

I wouldn’t be underestimated or overlooked

The parts of me that’ve been deprived could be filled with just a look

It would be like winning the lottery

But then, I remember the odds

Being average doesn’t get you the winning ticket

6/14/2024

I awake in the dark

Sweating and tense

I woke up just before the bungee cord stretched me too far into the concrete

I take the room into my lungs

I'm scanning for details

I reach across the bed...

But it hits me long before my hand finds only the pillow

He's not here

There's no one who loves me here

6/13/2024

It’s like someone latched a 30 pound weight to my neck. I hate anniversaries. A year can seem like a long time because so much can happen in a year. But, it’s not long enough for some wounds. If I’m honest, I haven’t done much to heal this one.

He left right at the end of a chapter and in the build up for the next. There was so much going on and I guess I’ve been hoping this was only a year away from him. Some vacation that I’d come back from. I know I’m different because I don’t feel the same excitement when I see other dogs.

I’ve tried not to think of him. To push away all the memories in hope the pain follows behind. I moved his album of pictures from my phone into an external hard-drive that sits in my closet. Try as might, I still remember.

His paws smelt like Fritos and people always thought I was a little weird for inhaling his toe beans any chance I got. He had his own scent and I can’t find it anywhere. Most people like paws but I loved his nose. It was my favorite thing to look at. As a puppy he was small enough to fit in a pocket so since day one we showered together. Originally, it was more about killing two birds with one stone but it became our thing. He’d run in and out of the waterfall falling from my body. Playing and then sometimes sitting under it with his eyes closed. After his scrub and rinse, he’d sit on the bath mat waiting for me. He made showers fun for me again… at least with him. I miss how attached he was to me…and I to him…

Animals have their own personalities and his was pretty silly. It was a perfect match for me. He’d get bursts of energy and skip around the room until he got my attention. And when I got my hyper bursts- he’d jump right in. He’d zoom around me until I’d giggle and let out a big hyena laugh, then he’d be satisfied.

I loved the way he’d stare at me. He was small but he loved me big and not just when I had bacon or a toy in my hand. I know he did because his eyes looked the same even in the hard moments…

His entrance into my life was much like his exist, a surprise. We were inseparable from the start and so the match was made.

Nights are always hard for me. My body begins to tense up as the sky turns from hues of pinks, purples, and blues, to black. My breathing gets shallow and quick. He use to do this thing where he’d lay on my chest covering my neck like a scarf. He’d wiggle and snuggle into me. He made sure to remain steady for me. He’d just wait till I could focus on his breathing and until I could pet him or catch my breath. He guarded me all night…

Some times he’d cry with me… but he never let me go too deep. He’d patiently wait for me to come back and loved me all the same. No one’s ever sat with me through an entire panic attack. Least not before him. Not without getting scared or mad at me throughout it. They can last hours and there isn’t much anyone can do to help. I learned early on that no one comes to help you. You just have to hide and wait out the monsters. But he refused to ever be away from me in these moments. Even if I tried to protect him from me and push away everything. He’d wait out the monsters with me.

Today’s the one year anniversary of me waiting them out alone.

6/12/2024

“Student or professional?”

I frequent this small art supply store by my place

It’s in between abandoned suites with bared up windows

You have to ring a bell to be let in

I love the way art supply stores smell

It’s kinda how I love the smells of home depot and book stores

You could leave me all day in any of these places

They turn down the volume…

My restless hands needed to exhaust some energy

I begin to walk up and down the isles

Admiring all the tools and options one can use to tell a story

So much of it, I’ve never used

The owner walks up to greet me

She smiles and asks, “student or professional?”

I shook my head confused, “neither”

She kept smiling and waiting for my answer

For me to pick one, so then I say, “Just student grade paint is fine”

The longer she smiles at me, the more I think she might be trying to upsell me

But I decide to humor her, “Ok, professional”

Before I could finish responding she’s leading the way to the back of the store behind a counter

The wall is covered with Golden, Liquitex, Winsor and Newton

The professional grade stuff

All brands have the student stuff and then there’s this stuff

I can’t help but get excited at how many shades she has

There’s like 20 different shades of grey

I never buy pricy stuff

The student stuff works just fine

But, I felt a little impulsive

I grab two tubes

She scans them and says, “Good, 20% discount for the professional”

I laugh and shake my head

Then she hands me the tubes, still smiling at me

“Good customer…. You’r always a calm shopper. Good eyes and hands….Professional.”

I thank her with a nod and accept I’m not winning this argument

She’s never seen my work and could be very well upselling me

But I couldn’t help but think of all the things I consider myself a student in

I push back on the idea of being a professional in anything

Now that art is back in my life

I don’t think I ever want to lose it again

I think I would like to do something more with it

6/7/2024

It's odd my job is to keep secrets

When I really think about it, I've been keeping people's secrets all my life

Maybe that's why it comes easy to me

It's really easy when it has nothing to do with you

I never feel the need to speak about other people in that way

I think it's important for people to maintain that kind of power for themselves

The power of telling the stories of things that have happened to them

It's the only part you get to control...

I hear about all kinds of stories

Stories about losing power

Stories about how to manage that loss

And stories about taking it from others

I remember being told as a new boot that my first fight would cause me to freeze

That I'd be quickly humbled by the darkness I'd find in people

I was told to expect the unexpected because the violence would always find me

Now I seek the mess and destruction in others

I purposely go digging for it because it ironically holds the key to something different

I've yet to hear anything that shocks me or makes me freeze

I suppose I'm still waiting for the thing that'll ... scare me

I often wonder what that says about me...

The first fight was in the showers

It was wet and the steam made it harder to see

I don't remember thinking but somehow I coordinated a plan to put the fire out

We were short so I was alone

Back up that finally arrived over shot the pepper spray

Hitting me and a bystander with asthma

Pepper spray in a steaming shower room is not a room you'd want to be in

So, my back up left

I managed to get handcuffs on everyone

Then carry myself and the bystander, now consumed in an asthma attack, out of the room

The banter about my quick feet lasted weeks

They told me it was a good thing

But my stomach was upset every time I recalled the event

It was the topic of therapy for weeks

Why didn't I freeze?

How come I'm not upset?

What does that say about me?

I suppose there is still a part of me waiting to hear something that shocks me

I cannot seem to find a human experience that scares me...

I'm scared that the plague they've left in me is contagious

I'm terrified others can see it

That their evil,... is also, now my evil

6/1/2024

“I’m fresh out of the shower

And my skin smells like lavender

But something inside me feels rotten

Something about me feels permanently dirty

Like the only solution would be to loosen the screws in my skull

And pour lavender soap into my brain

Let the hot water run over my memories

And wash them down the drain

If only it were that easy to forget you… and myself… and that day

But unfortunately,

Memory is the one stain that soap and water can’t erase”

Whitney

6/1/2024

“They say if one orange in the bowl is rotten you should throw it out

Because it wont take long before the rest of the fruit is spoiled

But tell me, what if I’m the rotten orange?

What if I’m ruining everything I touch and I don’t know how to stop?

What if the closer you get to me the more damage I do?

What if you tried to love me and I turn you rotten too?

What if decomposition is the only love I know?

what if i belong where the rotten oranges go?”

Whitney