jack in the box

 

 

door slammed shut

keep out sign hanging on the door knob

 

panic lives in her chest

winding the jack in the box

anxiety jumps with its

white clown face – screaming

pounding and pounding

stealing another 24 hours

 

messy bed and unwashed sheets

are left,

twisting and turning around daytime

hair falling out

unwashed face

unbrushed teeth

the rotting of woman

 

her knuckles start to yellow

and her heart hardens

sagging bags under eyes

droop like grandma’s skin

 

the dark creases of loneliness

stiffening the body

wide awake with the night

holding hands with one another

skipping over cracks in the sidewalk

nails painted black

chipped and scratched

 

her toes get caught in the traps

left out for squirming mice

the tight pinch of reality is just a slap across the face

the handprint screaming red over her right cheek

SHIANNA’S STORY

POTENTIAL TRIGGER WARNING: NO NUMBERS USED 

When I was little I was compared to my baby sister. Before bath time we would see who has the bigger tummy. I was smart and I watched my dad eat and are like him. Not too long after that I broke my ankle. I became couch bound. The pounds packed on. When I was in 6th grade I was XX pounds I was obese for my age. I was bullied at school and bullied at home by my parents. Slowly without realizing it, I started to lose weight. By 7th grade I cut down a lot of what I eat. By 7th grade my friends taught me to just drink water and chew gum for breakfast. I started not eating lunch. By 8th grade I stopped eating lunch and only eating before practice. I got down to XX when I knew it was Ana or swimming. I quit swimming and said it was to focus on my grades. I entered 9th grade around XX and then it went down hill I stop eating completely . I got down to XX,then I learned that bulimia mixed in with Anorexia..my lowest was XX.

On my 16th birthday I ate so much and got sick not just food I threw up but blood. The next day I was in a coma state. I knew I had to stop. I use to purge in my sleep. Finally I started recovering on my own I would eat and then have fun burning it off. Then I was hospitalized. It reset me. By this time I was about XX. When I was released I binged everyday. I relapsed a lot. My depression got very bad and I went to partial. They saved my life that’s also where I learned to eat right. Soon I got out of there and I became healthy. I wasn’t active anymore because my body is worn from the extreme dieting. I would only eat berries and walk miles in sweat pants and a sweat shirt in the summer to burn it off. So I started ganging weight again slowly. Slowly I got up to XX and kept slowly going up. I made it a year without Anorexia  I realized I was happier before and felt more alive before I recovered. I relapsed. I am still struggling with my eating disorder and it is something that I will have to continue to work on.

The demon in my chest

Your ghost keeps good company

in the mouth of late December,

with or without it’s clamping,

snapping teeth.

Icicles freeze to his

umbrella eyelashes.

Chew the pieces of me

Break me down and

Set fire to everything I know.

Every thing that

I was and am today.

A simple blackness

A simple life, tortured.

It thrives and smiles upon

the rotting of you and me,

On the calm it creates craze.

Your ghost keeps good company

lets me know that I will never suffer alone.

disposal

old china cup eyes

she comes with a history
 book inside her palms
her name is crossed out-
a chicken scratch of rage
of ink blots
symptoms and side effects
now ring true
and the doctors say
depression
bulimia
borderline and she finds the letters
of her names between new refills for medications
all her rough drafts are
 mangled within colourless skin
carried over her shoulder
beyond this
is a numbness betraying darkness
and smiling at sunlight with rotting teeth.

familiar strangers

This room is sanitized with

psychiatrists and nurse therapists

Sad teenagers and their

parents sit like broken glass dolls.

Opening binders

flipping pages and greeting one another

with a friendly smile, with a

how are you

with uncomfortable small talk

There is Purple and blue silence

packed in the bags under my eyes

I let the tears on my cheek dry as you

push the box of kleenex across the table

Hiding the truth: Depression

I’m taking a little spin on this Blogging thing. I don’t know who this will reach or who it will touch. One thing that i do know is that its in me to share and to write.

when someone asks me what’s wrong, I never really know what to say. I mean, we’ve been taught to wear a smile and shake off any bad day. Pretend that everything is fine when it is obviously is not. Uttering the words “I’m depressed” shouldn’t be so hard, but for me, it is. And for a lot of other people, too. I still try and dodge the question when it comes around. Nothing is wrong but I’m depressed and I’m struggling. Sometimes there isn’t one thing, sometimes there is no reason at all. Some people don’t accept it as a fact or reason. Because there has to be something that is upsetting you, right? Well, no. They call it a chemical imbalance for a reason.

I, for one understand why people don’t talk about what they are going through. I mean its hard enough opening yourself up to someone and really truly trusting them. Baring your soul to them. It takes courage. And I have just learned that myself (the hard way) Its not easy to let someone know that you’re not okay. Hiding is a lot easier than speaking up and being honest to yourself and to others. I still live with the fear of not being understood or respected because of what i am going through but everyday I make a choice to get out of bed, get dressed and tackle what ever the day throws in my direction.