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Writing Elephant

Smashed into the cement

The once bright life I envisioned is gone.

Tiny and fragile,

The color of pale moonlight,

The little lives of the robin’s share the same fate.


I’m having a rough couple of days. I’m trying to “own” my anxiety, depression, and migraines. The mental illnesses are self-diagnosed, but after many doctors and insisting that I know I have a problem one doctor finally listened. It’s hard trying to take care of yourself and get up to do the things you either have to do or want to do when your body constantly fights you. I’m trying different options and seeing where each leaves me. I’m even considering medical marijuana, but it is hard to get in my state.


I hate living like this.


The constant fear of never being good enough, the pounding head pain with strained eyes and convulsing pain in my neck, the drag of everyday life that one minute causes my heart to race the next makes me want to curl in a ball and cry. Even getting out of bed is a constant struggle, but getting to sleep is worse. Do I write this to get pity? No, not by any means. I write this to help myself make sense of this turbulent life I live day to day. Maybe if I write enough someone can say “Hey, me too,” or “I recommend this type of doctor, they really helped me”.


I’m writing this to write.


I feel like I haven’t been able to write properly but maybe, at this point in my life, this is the type of thing I should be writing. This is currently what I want to write. I’m also getting inspiration to write like this from the website The Mighty. The articles are written by people just like you and I. Knowing that I am not alone, even if it is just to read an article for a few minutes, makes me feel better.


The small verse of poetry at the beginning? I happened to see three tiny robin’s eggs that fell from a tree on my way from my mail box. It made me upset and so I attempted to channel it into something beautiful. It’s more sad than beautiful.

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