Anxiety Shopping

She’s in the grocery store pushing her cart; the territory is familiar. The aisles seem tighter than usual and she begins talking to herself. It used to be that the talking was in her head, but as people pass her by, now they wonder who she’s speaking to. Yelling at. Making fun of.

“You leave your cart on the left side of the freezer section aisle, but you are actually on the right hand side of the freezer aisle picking something out. There’s a box of God knows what in the center selling something for pets and I can’t get by.”

So she stands there waiting.

“Excuse me!”

That time she knew she was yelling out loud. The “Oh, sorry…” didn’t fill the void of anger as she continues her shopping in agony because people and noise and disruption are all part of her triggers.

Today she only needed a handful of items so the self-checkout was there and waiting. She mentally prepared herself for the woman inside the machine who told her what to do, step by step, usually a step behind what she was already doing.

Put the item in the bag…

I already DID!

Remove the item from the bag and place in on the scale…

What the fuck for?

Place the item in the bag…

Oh, you mean the one where it was before you dumb bitch!

Select method of payment…

I already scanned my card!

Don’t forget to take your bags…

Why in the fuck would I go through all of this and forget to take my bags?

Thank you…

People are listening and staring, and she actually cares but she rushes out of the store in hopes those same people won’t be there next time she returns.

—Actually me in every store!!

You are my favorite teapot, and I will love you even when you leak.

I will never forget the day I complimented you,
and instead of taking it, you assured me that you were not perfect
because you hate to do the dishes,
and you don’t see well when driving in the dark,
but darling, you don’t seem to understand
my definition of perfection,
for I find it hidden within all of your quirks.
You are like the polka-dotted teapot I once found
tucked in the back corner of a local shop.
You have smooth edges and the cutest paint job,
but you came at a price—the crack near your base;
I bought you anyway, and I hoped with all my heart
that you wouldn’t leak too badly.
Except, sometimes, you do,
and when you do, I wrap you twice over to stop your seeping,
and I go about my business.
You are never a burden, nor are you a hindrance,
and I will not dispose of you.
I may tell others after the fourth complaint
that I’ll simply put you on a shelf to admire,
but not to use,
though never for always.
Because your tea, somehow, tastes just…a little bit better
than the rest.

This is Not What I Expected

I stare out the window,
stand and watch the rain beat down
harshly on the rug spread on my patio;
It wasn’t supposed to be like this.

I sip coffee from a chipped mug that I broke
during my last move;
its temperature scalds me—
just like life.

By the time I finish my cup
and the day has halfway gone,
the raining stops;
So, I do as I always have.

I trudge outside,
hand the sodden rug over the metal furniture to dry,
and I make my peace that,
oftentimes, life occurs in such a way that I am both
the mess and
the broom;

No worries, though,
for I will always have the ability
to sweep myself back up again.

Seafarer; From the Perspective of a Future Lover

Her hair—twisted like long, green tentacles—fell like water across her face
and as the rain came pouring down, algae liquid followed suit—oceanic.
In the depths of her laughter, I explored the brightest and most beautiful coral reefs,
and in the wake of her tears, I learned that, sometimes, they…get bleached.
Luckily, she always finds the light again, and I am able to sun-bathe in her warm glow;
Together, we grow tanner, and as nightfall breaks, her body crashes like waves upon me.
Over and over and over again, I get to enjoy her tides until it’s time for me to nurture, rather than to relish.
Because as the sea rises and falls, so does she, but that doesn’t make her any less my favorite place to be.

Depression is a Lying Bastard

Depression is filled with lies and ugly underlying issues.

It hovers over you whispering sweet nothings into your ear…You stupid bitch! What are you doing with your life? You’re nothing and you’ll never amount to anything. 
I’d tell it to screw off on a normal day but depression tricks you into thinking the lies are the truth.

Depression not only gets into your own head, but the heads of others. The people in your life get a little gust of wind blown at them and start saying things to you that you’re already thinking and make you feel even worse about yourself.

Don’t you think this is bad timing? Oh! This isn’t a convenient time for YOU to turn MY LIFE upside down? What was I thinking?

Depression lies. It steals. It makes you do things you don’t want to do. It makes you say things you’ve been holding in for far too long. It makes you silent. It grabs hold of your throat and gasp for breath. It makes you think far too strong. It makes you stare into the beyond.

I just want to be happy.

I want help.

I want my problems to be someone else’s problems.

I want to smile and fucking mean it.

I want to tell you I’m Fine and feel it.

I want more.

I fucking deserve more.

Depression is a lying bastard.

MANIAC

Today has been good.
I got out of bed. I showered. I got dressed up.
I was productive. I had coffee. I filed papers.
I socialized—flourishing in the limelight.
…I made a mistake.

Today has not been good.
The shower was so hot it scorched my skin.
When I was getting coffee, I almost hit another car.
While I was socializing, I crossed boundaries that I knew were there but didn’t care about in the moment.

Today has been manic.
I cried hysterically when I put on my ex’s favorite shirt. I didn’t stop until I was ordering my drink.
My productivity consisted of using up old art supplies by tie dying my bathroom towels at 2:30 in the morning.
I think I pushed away my best friend.

Today, I took my medicine. But today, it didn’t help.