Prayer From David

I’ve been suffering from extreme amount of insomnia as of late. It has been about three days with no relief in site. I’m shaky from sleeping pills that now seem to be doing the reverse effect and my mind has just about turned to mush. Words are bleary, thoughts becoming erratic, not making a lick of sense, which in turn is leading into frustration and an overwhelming amount of sadness. Simple things seem to be outstandingly hard to reach and comprehend. I was looking over the web, to see if I could find some prayers that I could release onto God. For his help and direction. Even praying is difficult. I thought I would post this one prayer that I found. I can’t say that it has fixed the way I feel. But, it has brought some release to all the anxieties, the despair, that I’m feeling presently. It’s simple, not to long, yet not too short to feel the meaning behind it.

May it touch the hearts of those in need also….

The authors name is simply shown as “David”. Pray for him and the other people out there who are so desperately in need of it.



Dear Heavenly Father,

I don’t know why I have been given this burden, but I have been struggling with depression for most of my life. I’m currently at a low point and feel I’m loosing the battle. I don’t know why I’m on this earth or what the point of life is. I can’t seem to find my way and I don’t know what You want from me. 

I don’t even know who I am anymore. Please forgive me for my sins and weaknesses and please, I beg of You, end this suffering. If I am to continue to live in this world, please heal me and give me the strength to go on and do some good with my life. Please hear this prayer and please help me. In 



Even if David no longer feels the state in which brought him to write this and to share with others. Please pray anyways. For I fear that those who suffer and have had a long history of severe depression in their lives…..normally have a high chance of it coming back. And I tell myself. If I am ever so lucky to see that bright light at the proverbial end of the tunnel and I am able to laugh, smile and breathe again, that I will go down fighting next time. I will try my hardest to recognize the signs/symptoms. I will try to gather all my resources for the upcoming fight. Strap on that steel plate of armor, raise that shield of protection, gather friends, family, and loved ones behind me. 

But for now, it has its grip on me. And I fear I’m just not quite strong enough to climb out of the hole I have led myself to dig. I will continue to be weak. Unworthy. Deteriorate. But one thing is for sure. I will continue to pray.



As I lay down

Looking at my fragile hands

I can’t help but think …

They MUST have been meant for

So much more then

All the time spent

Wiping away such

Hopeless tears

To a nostalgic moonlit sky.


I miss being around people. I’m the type of personality that genuinely loves every human being on this planet. I’ve always felt like I was put on this earth to help others. And I take no more greater pleasure in my life than helping those who are in need. Whether it be emotionally, physically or supportively. I am what you call an empath. I can feel the hurt others are going through and it can strongly effect me in a profound way. Even when I was a child, I was told a had an “Old soul”. I sometimes ponder if that played a major contributor to my mental illness.

If someone I knew was down or sad, I would take out all my dolls and stuffed animals, go into my mother’s big closet, assemble a big semi-circle with myself in the middle and try to reenact ways to solve that persons problem. When I felt I got it just right, the act of me being able to fix that problem, I would then replay the best outcome and scenario on how to help them and go up to that person to see If I could. Or even if I couldn’t help them….if it was a stranger or someone I saw on the television, I would pretend I could have went back in time and said and did the right thing, to help them feel better. I wanted everyone to smile and to feel true love inside of their hearts. It’s probably because I was always so sad myself, deep down inside. I never wanted anyone to feel the way as I did as a child.

I had a wonderful family growing up. So, it’s not like I was unfortunate to not have stability in my life or as if I wasn’t loved to some degree. I count myself very blessed. It was just a feeling that I always carried with me. My teachers would recognize my isolation and sadness. My mother would tell me they would have conferences just to make sure everything was okay at home. I am so thankful for my loving mother and father. I sometimes feel as if I don’t deserve them. Like I’ve let them down in life and that they’ve had to carry the weight of me throughout their own lives. Living independently is a struggle. I’m scared to be alone.

Before my fall. Before I allowed this depression to consume me. I owned a small business with my father. A flower shop. I am apparently not the best business woman, per say LOL. I always found it so difficult taking other peoples money for exchanged goods. I always wanted to give. I had the pleasure of working with families who had lost their loved ones. Funeral consultations. When it came to sitting down with the families who had lost their loved ones, either being children, spouse, friend, family, you name it, I always had to hear their story. I had to let them know that I cared. That this complete stranger that they were talking to…. this person they were allowing to put together a beautiful bouquet in memory of their cherished loved one(s) they have so dearly lost, genuinely cared and wanted to make to their final goodbyes as special as can be. You can look into a persons eyes and see in that moment the release that it can give from vocalizing the life and the stories of that individual they lost. A tribute in ways. Being able to hold their hand, let them cry, and hug them, was something I will always cherish. And never forget.

I’ve seen suicides, car accidents, murders, children, babies, and it pretty soon got to the point where, I could no longer deliver casket sprays in person if the service was for a child or someone so very young. My father took over the task of delivering and placing the floral pieces in the funeral homes after awhile.

It all started when I had a childs funeral to do once. I think she was around 11 or 12. She had drowned in the river one weekend, while on an outing with her family. The family had an open casket. I wasn’t aware of the open casket at the time. This order was placed through one of the funeral homes that used us as their florist. Sometimes the grief can can’t allow loved ones to think clearly, so they will just look at our book at that funeral home, look around their budget at a picture to bury their loved ones with and then move on to the next process on which they need to do to make funeral arrangements. Trust me. Burying a loved one is an arduous task with many responsibilities. Especially while you are coping or in the grieving process. Back to what I was saying. As I was walking down the aisle towards her casket, I noticed the lid was up. I started to panic. I said to myself, “Oh no. They are having a viewing. Just keep your head down and to the right side of the chapel. Place the spray and go get the other pieces.” As I set it down, curiosity got the best of me. Now at this time, there is no one in the chapel with me. We try to deliver the arrangements prior and way ahead of time before services start. I wasn’t prepared. I looked for only a second, but it seemed like eternity. Here laid one of Gods precious little angels. A life that was taken way to soon. But she didn’t look like a child. At first glance, she appeared to look like an older lady. Her coloration was dark and she appeared bloated. I gasped and hurried to look away.

I went back to the van to get the other pieces. I was running a tad bit late this day on orders. The community came together and we had a lot of arrangements to make. One was a standing spray of an open heart of which her best friend had ordered with her mom. They came into my flower shop together. I remember specifically of the friend wanting a black ribbon that simply said, “My Best Friend”. The black was to represent her sadness. Returning to the funeral home later, to set her standing spray piece by others, I saw many white poster boards on wooden stands. They had cut out pictures of this little girl and what appeared to be her friends. Some even had candy glued to them. I think to represent her favorite sweets they may have enjoyed together. My heart started to pound out of my chest. Realizing just how many people she had left behind and had loved her tremendously. Especially classmates. In the blink of an eye, death can change everything.

When I went back to the van, I just put my head down and started to cry. I couldn’t do this anymore. My heart can’t take it. I know death is a part of life, but….this poor girls mother…..her father….. siblings. How are they to cope? How will they now live the rest of their lives, not having her around anymore? Their future? The scars they now have to live with? I grieved. I not only grieved for this little girl, but for all the hearts she has touched in their lives. Including mine now.

The breaking point was, when I got in a last minute order to deliver. It was a plant. The family viewing had just began. I quietly walked down the side of the chapel to set the plant down, then respectfully turned to exit. I wasn’t prepared for what I saw and heard. Writing about this now is still brings me to tears. The mother had thrown herself across the casket, bawling uncontrollably. She was wailing and screaming. Her husband was beside her, trying his very best to hold her as the tears were coming out of his eyes too. She was rocking the casket screaming, “Why! Why God!? Why!? Take me! Not my baby! Why!?” She was enraged. Heartbroken. Trying to grieve and wanting to die herself. The last few quiet steps I had to take to leave the chapel, become rushing footsteps. I had to get out. I couldn’t bare this emotion I was witnessing. You never want to see a parent lose their child. You never want to have to experience something so tragic.

That was one of the many times that left an emotional scar on my soul and left the factor of myself being unable to deliver pieces to young children. Especially those who died tragically. I felt that mothers pain as if it were my own. I felt it so clearly. Her aura just radiated so much pain. For miles and miles. You couldn’t help but feel that black veil of pure, raw emotion. Until this day, I pray for her in my heart. And her family. I pray God gives her peace, acceptance and love throughout the rest of the days in her life.

To be honest, I’m quite surprised to have opened up about that part of my life. I no longer have that little flower shop of 10 years. After losing such a deep part of my life, it triggered my depression to swing out of control. When you suffer from mental illness, you learn to recognize your triggers and on how to deal with them. But this trigger was like a loaded gun. And it went beyond my control. My memories of it haunt me. Because for once in my life I felt as if I belonged. That I had an actual purpose in my life. I got to help many, many people in varies parts of life. It gave me the chance to show love to complete strangers and to express that they are never alone. Every life touches one another. We are all connected someway, somehow. We all have meaning. I wanted others to see and recognize that they have self worth and love from someone they never knew existed or cared for them.

I want my story to touch you. I want you to know that I thank you for reading this. That even though I have no clue who you are, or know what part of the world you live in, that my heart and soul cares for you. Always remember that you are loved. In more ways then you can even fathom.

Until next time, my friend.


Sweet Dreams

Sleep. Boy do I miss my dear friend Mr. Sandman. You see, there wasn’t room for the two to be in Depressions life anymore. So eventually, one of them had to get the boot. I bet you know which one got the boot. Remember, Depression is a selfish, gluttonous little illness. And he has to have you all to himself, at least mine does, whether you or anyone else likes it or not.

The loss of sleep is normally one of the tell-tale clues that you might be depressed. Laying yourself to bed each night becomes an exhausting chore. You know you are tired. Your body and soul are screaming for the peace of rest. But your mind is always on the go. Of course it’s normal to have a constant outpour of thoughts, right before you go to bed. That is just your body’s way of unwinding. But generally, after you do wind down a little bit, your mind gradually declines downwards and allows for that much needed rest it needs in order to thrive and survive. Give or take each individuals habit.

I can’t seem to console my mind to get an actual good nights rest anymore. But I’ve managed to sleep in short intervals. Cat naps, I guess you can say. My mind eventually caves in from the sleep deprivation that the insufficient napping doesn’t seem to provide. And when I’m lucky to have one of those episodes come to me, I can finally sleep like a rock.

One of the worst feelings I have been experiencing upon awakening is, an over whelming amount of sadness that will envelop and consume my thoughts. The first thing that I do when I wake up is cry. Uncontrollably so. Knowing that this wasn’t all a dream. That the emotions I had and still have, are right where I left them when I dozed away. My eyes then open to that nasty little demon (Depression) sitting on my chest saying, “I’m still here! See? Can’t you tell by all this weight I’m pressing upon your chest and shoulders? I can sit forcibly harder if you would like. Now… wake up sleepy head, so I can play!”

It is such a raw and emotional feeling to have. To wake up, only to have no hope anywhere in site. The actual feeling can leave me to believe as if my throat is closing up. As if that miserly demon is wrapping his long tendrils around my windpipe, leaving me in gasping breaths. Wondering if maybe I might have something inside my esophagus. But coughing or clearing my throat doesn’t seem to fix the problem. I soon learned later on that, these were panic attacks I was experiencing. Waking up in these cold sweats, shaking and trembling, was now another little ugly monster that was rearing its head in my mind. Sharing my thoughts. And wouldn’t you know? Depression actually stepped aside and said, “Welcome to the party! Kick up a seat!” What an exasperating feeling to have! Panic attacks. Just one more thing I didn’t want to have on my list of mental disorders.

I thought maybe I could beat him. My demon that is. When it comes to trying to actually get some sleep. I would take over the counter sleeping pills. 2 was the recommended dosage. It worked! But then….I had to eventually had to take 3. Then 4. Then 5. Then 6. Now 7, per dosage. My body has become so immune to sleeping pills that, taking 7 doesn’t seem to do much for me anymore. I just get drowsy. But on the rare occasion when sleepiness occurs… I get excited. I rush on over to my nice comfy bed, hop in and throw a pillow over my head and wait. I usually get up within an hour, if I notice sleep has decided to be a no show. And doctor’s don’t seem to want to prescribe sleeping tablets for their depressed patients. Which I can understand, to a degree. And Psychiatrists say you don’t need them in order to get a good nights sleep. Just eat healthy, exercise, get out and soon your sleeping will get back into it’s normal habit once again. They give a regimen that seems to be the holy grail on “fixing”. But in the meantime, they will write you a controlled prescription. Only take as needed. And Boy, do I need!  Everything that has been given, usually never works for me. The dosage is either too small for my immune system or, I end up taking more of the pill per dosage, just so the darned things to work. Because apparently, they know my body and mind, much more than I do.(Can you catch my sarcasm in that sentence?) Which then kind of defeats the purpose of therapy and psychiatrists altogether, if you ask me. I just need someone to trust and listen!

Most of the professionals that I have seen, don’t seem to take the time and effort to actually listen. I’m not saying that all the professionals out there are like this. This is just my experience and what I’ve been through. And what my experience has left me to believe. I know they can’t wave a magical little wand and say your cured. And I know you can’t rely on others to fix you and your problems that you yourself (and depression) have created together. They are not of a higher being and they don’t have all the answers. But I’ve come to think and believe, that they feel they are talking to the disease more and not the real you. So they will decide what is best and how to proceed with this. Which is completely understandable, to a degree. They have a professional development in this type of field, which you don’t after all. But they have to also realize….my illness doesn’t give me much for patience anymore. I comprehend you know about the illness and how it works. The signs, the symptoms, your textbook words on what to do, etc…But do you truly understand? Have you lived it? Felt it, tasted it, grasped it?  True deep, dark, uncontrollable depression? Trust your patients as much as you can. Let go and believe in us.

Living becomes bleaker and bleaker as each day passes. As each session feels far and few in between. Everything seems to linger on and it feels as if therapy and psychiatry, is going absolutely nowhere. And pretty soon, It will allow the thoughts to just rear its ugly head and consume. I finally quit going altogether. You see….those days, hours, minutes and even seconds, counted for something.  The slowness of time dragged on until I could see them again for their advice and help. It was a lifeline that I clung so desperately onto. But in the mean time apart, it allowed depression to tell me that you are a waste of time and money. That you are just another client on their list to see, so they can get paid, go home to their traditional little lives and homes and await to return to their routine the next day. But I promise, I’m in here. Somewhere. And sometimes my voice can be allowed to speak. But you have to take that chance. That leap of faith. That time. Just look into my eyes and feel my soul cry out for help to you. You will begin to know the difference in between. If it is me speaking or the illness. Maybe I just need to be locked away. Managed and tended for like a newborn babe. It sure does feel like time is going backward. And pretty soon, I won’t be able to manage anything on my own. All the simple things that an average adult person can do in their life.

At the moment, I have to keep track of the sleeping pills I take throughout the day. Writing the exact times in my journal. Otherwise I can forget easily. If I take my dosage too early, my heart begins to flutter, which then brings on a full blown panic attacks that breathing techniques don’t seem cure. The racing thoughts will leave me with, “This is it, I took to much this time. The lights in my mind are going to finally fade out, leaving me to die in such a desolate looking state of poor hygiene. For that’s how I imagine death. Like a lightbulb whose filament pops out and dies in its process. Blackness.

It seems to have become more of an addiction, for me seeking this deep sleep that my mind craves so badly for. I desperately want to leave these thoughts and cares behind and tuck it all away in the dark corners of my psyche for awhile. The routine I have grown accustomed daily to now is, 6 sleeping pills (25mg per of Diphenhydramine) every 3 hours throughout the day. Usually the 30th pill allows me to gather some rest. I’ve allowed it to spiral out of control. That is how I live my days and nights anymore. Whenever my mind will allow some sleep, then that is what is considered my night. I know eventually, in time, my heart will give out on me. I feel the flutters in my heartbeat more and more each day, which leaves me gasping for breath. But it’s the chance I’m just willing to take. I’m a much more somber person when I’m drugged behind the mask of diphenhydramine. It dulls and quiets depressions’ ugly voice. And for some reason what other prescribed medications won’t do. In a way, it can be referred to that classic movie, “Drop Dead Fred”, if you have ever seen it. Lizzie has an imaginary friend, whose name is Drop Dead Fred. Only she can see him when she is a little girl. As she grows older, she ends up taking pills that eventually wipe and fade Fred away out of her life for good. He eventually disappears. In a way, the analogy of the movie is a close example of my little demon. It’s my only way of feeling in control of my mind. To repress so many sad thoughts that cycle in and out throughout the miserable days. So most of the time….you will normally find me looking at a clock. Waiting for that three hour delay to be up, just to see if the next round will actually conk me out. And hoping to find a moments reprieve from the bleak world depression has created. Sleep. Boy do I miss my dear ‘ol friend Sleep….



I’ve been told secluding yourself while you are depressed is probably one of the worst things that you can ever do. That if you allow it, depression will take over everything you have ever cared for away. It can take the small things in life that you would never have thought twice about. Hopping in a car by yourself, going to the grocery store or simply going out to gas for your car. It will little by little, let go of all the friendships that you spent years on making, cherishing and evolving with.

Letting go of friendships and family infects everything you touch. You will slowly start to deflect questions with other questions. Or you will try to bring up another topic when a response is required from you. Or even simply pretending like you never even heard the question that was asked of you in the first place. It starts to become so much more easier to avoid others. And after awhile, people will stop asking questions about your state of mind altogether.

When people ask, “How are you doing?”. There is never a new answer that comes out of that question anymore. You can either lie and say, “I’m doing good.” Or tell them the truth and say, “I’m doing absolutely terrible. I’m just finding it harder and harder to wake up each and every day. That it is becoming a constant struggle that I battle within myself anymore. A battle that is exhausting all my faculties to the point where, thinking straight and trying not to think about death, is becoming a constant reoccurrence.”

Pretty soon, trying to stay within yourself becomes a feeling that you learn to grow comfortable with and something you are more able to deal with. It’s so much easier than to try to be in a world where you feel you no longer belong too. The eyes that you now see through, are not the eyes of your own anymore. You start to slowly fade back into yourself and allow depression to slowly take a step forward. “He/she/it” is now the stranger looking through your eyes. Rose colored glasses? Maybe more like Black sunglasses. Shielding and protecting away all that ever was.

With me, it started with going to bed early. Then the next would be, staying in bed all day, so I can pick and choose which memories and feelings left me in such a catatonic state. Trying to find the meaning of why I’m always feeling so down. Maybe even, if I felt sorry for myself just enough….I would finally tire of all these emotions. Then, it became a week. Soon after……a month, which then turned into a plural. It became Months. And in the meantime, I am severing every relationship I have ever known. Building up a wall that not even the strongest fighters could manage to break down. I would respond to a text every now and then, in the beginning. Just because I really did care very deeply for everyone I knew and had in my life. I didn’t want to hurt them thinking otherwise. But then, the texts, calls and social media from my friends become quieter and quieter. A straggler text would pop in occasionally, just to check in and see if your still alive. They would say that they haven’t heard a peep out of you in a very long time. That they miss you. They are praying for you. In the mean time, you are reading all of this and being robbed with the inability to respond, eventually devastating your soul. You feel helpless and soon lose the hope to find words to express yourself. To function normally. And then soon it becomes…….silence. An eerie wave of complete silence. You knew this was going to eventually happen. This is what you wanted to happen. You wanted to shy away from all your relationships, the world, because you yourself started to feel like an embarrassment with all these thoughts and emotions. Of not being able to function like a proper human being. You start to feel that, how you are acting and reacting to everything around your environment isn’t “normal” so, you hide in hopes to not be judged or pitied.

I’m trying desperately to prevent others from witnessing this pain I’m going through. I don’t want them to have to watch me break.  All it will do for them is make them feel like they are powerless on something they don’t understand. Or have the tools to fix. Not knowing how to save someone right before their very eyes. Someone that they love and care for, is just falling to pieces right there in front of them. They don’t need to know how dark I’ve become. For the pain I feel, comes in waves. Ebbing and flowing to something that seems to be out of my complete control.

I no longer do the things I once loved to do. Depression has taken over. Depression likes the dark now. The sunshine is now out of my life. My body has been complying by, shedding its skin to an alabaster white. Stepping out of the house now is left to past memories. Depression likes messy, dirty hair and hygiene that seems to be long forgot. That is a task that requires energy and energy is deplete, since that is how depression can function. It feeds off your energy, leaving you with nothing but living on an empty tank of dried out fumes. Depression smiles inside. It knows just how much it can take from you and yet, somehow keep you alive. It leaves you left with nothing but a hollow shell.

I ask that, if you do suffer from such a horrific disease, to please never isolate yourself. I believe it to be, just as I’ve been told, one of the most horrible things that you can do to your body and mind. It will leave you without a voice, eventually robbing you of friendships, family and future possibilities. I know this from past experiences and with what I am currently going through at this very moment. Depression has taken its grip. It has made it to the point on where, I can no longer feel in control of my life or know how to revert back and fix this detachment from reality. I’ve made it comfortable and familiar. So much so that, I can’t imagine not being without this reclusion. I want to be able to go back outside and feel the sunshine on my face. To actually look and observe other human beings, without it being on a flat screen somewhere. I’ve completely and utterly made myself vanish from this world. All with the will of giving up. These four walls have become my seclusion.



Trying to find Faith

Every day when I wake up, I go make myself a lovingly, big cup of coffee (Keurig…the little things in life that can warm my heart with joy, along with a nice Cup Of Joe) and ponder on what I can write about for the day. I’ve been doing this for years. Only now, have I decided to give in to the concept of “Blogging” and allow to write for others. Others who may wish to see. But, I’m doing this more for myself. It does give me something new and challenging to look forward too. And to have a feeling for reason. A reason to maybe, “wake up for another day of this life I am currently living.” It  is a lifeline I strongly grasp onto nowadays. For they are far and few in between.

I’m hoping to eventually open up more about my life and the way I live. How depression finally got to me (sadly allowing it so). But for now, baby steps is all that I can seem to muster.

I thought maybe to write about coping skills, to help give others an idea on how to handle the “not so wonderful moments” that depression can throw your way. Man… I should at LEAST have that down! For I’ve had so many years of living and fighting with this! But….. then I thought, I’m not a “professional” and I would hate to give advice to others when I’m in such a clouded state myself as is. So, maybe I can just give information on the tools that “I” use. What I try desperately to do, when my panic attacks blow into a full on “The Walking Dead” episodes inside of my head. Hmm… That’s a good analogy to use, right? Ha! For me it is…. For the days when I just lifelessly and aimlessly keep on going mundanly, when there seems to be no hope. The days when, just trying to survive from one place to the next seems hopeless, wondering what you will eat (for myself living with anorexia nervosa), on how to consume your energy into the best statistical way that is beneficial to you, or anxiously worrying about what will be lurking out of every dark corner or shadow you see. For me, those are my inner demons, which can resemble a zombie, I guess… The days when you say to yourself, “Should I just keep going? It would be so much more easier to just let them come and get me. Drag my body away and to do with it what they will. It’s a list just goes on…….and of course, and on…..and on.

I had a therapist once tell me, “Breathe”. Breathing can go a long way, believe it or not. She would then tell me at first to, Take a deep breath in through my nose, hold in for 3 seconds, then let that breath out slowly through my mouth. I can’t tell you how embarrassing it was, on the first try, to cough up a ball of snot after crying so much, prior to that little lesson. But she just smiled, and said, “That’s okay. Let’s this try again.” We continued the process once more. Then two more times after. She will then proceed to tell me to try this breathing technique for whenever I felt a panic attack come on or, when I allow those clouded thoughts in my head to consume my mind. After I got comfortable with that process of general releasing, I should then go on trying to imagine breathing in a bright, white light that is shining down from above, onto the crown of my head, that spreads throughout my whole body. To then breathe that light inside myself. Imagining and creating a white light of clean, crisp cool air, holding your breathe for 5 seconds this time around, then to exhale slowly out of your mouth, imaging ALL that negative, sad, raw emotion just exhaling out of your body in a billowy cloud of dark, thick smoke, that gives off an appearance of “pollution”. It may say weird but, oddly enough, It turned out to be a fantastic technique that I took and carried with me for all the days of my life. I kept it folded neatly inside my pocket (so to speak) like a dirty little secret I stowed away and carried around with me. For when the days that turned out sour and uncontrollable. I’d just imagined myself pulling that note out, looking at it for reassurance, softly tucking it away and away I would go with my process of breathing!

Unfortunately for now, it seems I may have tucked and re-tucked that thought/image/technique, too many times at the present moment. I know it is still there….somewhere. Just waiting for me to come and make friends with it once again, but….I am a little too far gone being sucked into this disease at the time being. I only wanted to write and reflect about one experience that has worked with me in the past. Bringing all of this up at the moment is very painful. Reason being, I’m dredging up a lot of past memories that I have so perfectly hidden away. And I don’t feel like I am in the right position to give too much advice, especially when my disease has so consumed and overridden all of my own thoughts and emotions.

I pray my writings will fall onto that one straggler on the internet out there, who is searching for “a cure”, a meaning or the hopes on how to deal with such a disease. For the ones who are, seeking desperately to see if anyone else in this Whole Wide World feels as lost and despaired as they themselves are feeling. To the person who is searching for answers, maybe even a reason on why they should live or how to cope with the struggles of this life. For, that’s how I myself came across WordPress Blogger. I was desperately seeking. Desperately clutching on! in the hopes that, I could read about someone just like me. Someone who would show me the raw insides into their daily life. How they are “dealing”. Relating to other individuals, onto what we ourselves feel, is a natural part of being a human being. It gives me that kind of hope that I’ve long forgotten on how to experience. I was just praying to see that someone out there was like me. That they too were feeling these terrible, raw emotions, just as I do. I wanted to read with my own two eyes, instead of hearing or reading it through a third party. I wanted something tangible in front of my very face. To connect.

I pray for this connection. To help in some odd, morbid way… through all my terrible experiences. Which I hope to fully open up too, someday. Writing my life all down in a short session isn’t possible. It will be a process for me to open up. I’m just hoping in this process, it will eventually help others along their way in their in lives.

Remember: You are not alone. Even though you can’t see me, or tangibly hear or feel me….I am with you. I am with you in spirit, in the energy that surrounds you, inside the beating of your heart. I love you and I promise God is with you in this process of grief, loneliness, sadness, depression…which ever the case it may be. God is with you. And so are your sprite guide(s) and angels. SO many people whom you do not know, are with you right now unexplainably.

That’s one battle I am struggling to cope with myself right now. The faith to believe the reason of all of this. But I know it is there. Deep down inside of me. Just waiting to shine through all the murk and filth that depression has left in its wake. But I just know God is there. Just like you do….we just need to give it faith. Hopefully on this journey together, we can find rediscovery and make it out ourselves alive.

I’ll leave you with a little bit of free verse poetry now.


“When your soul becomes weak and tired

The world becomes tired too.

When the last of your breath you breathe, is breathed

You are no longer able to breathe the world in.

When the sight in your eyes decides to vanish

No part of the world will be able to see you either


Hiding in the dark

Becomes a safe haven

Because it will recognize its own.

It will give you back your sight.

And you will learn one thing..


That the world was made to be free in.

Give up all the other worlds you may belong in

And except the one you currently belong to right now.


It will take “darkness” and

The cold seclusion of your confinement

In order to learn the acceptances of loneliness.

And you will then learn too, that…

Anything or anyone that does not bring you alive…

Is too small for you.”








Mental Illness

When depression takes over…

When it is allowed to consume everything and everyone it ever touches…

It will surprisingly

Allow no room for anything else to grow

Or blossom

Into that individuals life.

No matter how desolate

And inescapable the thoughts turn

The feelings  will leave you consumed into a dark veil of


It will leave you with no safe haven

Nothing to grasp ahold of

Or ground yourself onto.

Its destruction will leave you with

Silence and heaviness.

And it will leave you with nothing but time…..


For an end..

An end for however you perceive time

And if it’s worth waiting for.