Private Hell

I see the pills I take each day
To help myself, I live that way
In a cloud of many pills
Supposed to take away my ills

If I had to count them all
Even ones for when I fall
Add to them a shot each day
If I stopped what would they say

Blood pressure, depression, and anxiety
Are only part of what you see
Behind closed doors, I struggle more
Much more than I ever did before

I wonder what would kill me first
I think of my unending thirst
Take this one to stop the side effects
I never know what’s coming next,

I see you just outside my door
Coming here, I know not what for
Why do I hide, behind my door
Help me please find out what for

The shadows behind all these doors
More pills, they say will help me more
Do this or not I will not tell
Sitting here in my private hell

Weekend Coffee Share

Image result for CoffeeIf we were having coffee, I’d tell you I had a wonderful week of competition with other disabled veterans, in San Antonio, TX.  I’d also tell you the driver of the express coach to O’Hare, loaded me aboard the bus, then waved me off when I started to ask how much for the fare.  I’d tell you I made it to the airport in plenty of time, and breezed through security, without the usual hassle that I’ve experienced in the past, as a wheelchair user.  I would also tell you, that while waiting at the gate, the airline lady came over to me, and told me that a gentleman in first class was offering me his seat, if I would like it.  Well . . . yeah!  They were giving me drinks throughout the entire flight, as well as a choice of meals to choose from.  I had a delicious Asian Salad.  I would tell you about my experience, once I reached San Antonio.  I made it from the gate to the shuttle buses if a good amount of time, since I had packed light, with only one carry-on bag, my laptop, and my CPAP machine.  After waiting a considerable length of time, a shuttle with a wheelchair lift finally arrived, but they weren’t going to take me and had to go in and check that out.  He finally decided he could take me.  He opened the back door and let the lift down to the pavement.  I rolled on and he pushed the button.  The front end of the lift started to rise, but the back stubbornly remained on the ground, and the front would go sliding back to the ground.  I got off, he tried the lift again, and it still wouldn’t go up – without me even being on it.  I was afraid I had broken as my humongous large chair probably weighs close to 400 pounds, and that’s without me in it.  He finally got me aboard and we were off.

 Image result for CoffeeIf we were having coffee, I’d tell you that I did my best throughout the three events I took part in, one each day of competition.  I played table tennis first, and I did well in the first round, but not as well as during warm-up.  I would tell you that I got pounded to the pavement floor by a competitor, who it turns out just happens to belong to a national table tennis team.  He must practice for hours on end each day.  I didn’t think that was a fair go-around, but I gracefully rolled away, and joined my friends on the sidelines, one of whom had my phone, and took some very good pictures.  I would tell you that my second event was bocce ball.  I made it through the first two rounds, and then lost to the person I had played against, two years earlier, at an exhibition event for bocce ball.  I believe I lost to him then, as well.  Also, I don’t remember seeing any other women playing, but I could be mistaken.  The air rifle event, was really rough on me, physically.  The MS has progressed (probably why they call it “progressive”) and I couldn’t hold the rifle still enough to even see the entire target, much less those tiny little dots I was to aim for.  They got a stand for the air rifle, and one of the volunteers helped to adjust the sight, so that I could actually see the individual dots I was to aim for.  Another volunteer was helping, by putting each pellet in the rifle, and telling me which dot I was to be aiming at for my next shot, and telling me how far off I was with each shot.  I did a poor job hitting those targets, and didn’t even stick around to see what my final score was.  I would also tell you that the trip home wasn’t nearly as pleasant as the first flight.  We took off late, arrived late, and I waited about an hour for them to bring my chair to me.  I missed my shuttle bus and was screaming scrambling through O’Hare, trying to find the shuttle bus, and when I took the elevator to garage level – twice.  When I finally got to the ticket counter, the fare was $27, and I had $25 on me.  I ended up giving her the $25 in cash, and putting the remaining $2 on my debit card, as I wasn’t too sure about how much was left in my checking account.  The lift on the next bus was broken.

Image result for CoffeeIf were having coffee, I would tell you that the beginning of October is kind of bittersweet.  My mother passed away, four years ago, on the 1st of October.  I would also tell you that the end of the month not only brings Halloween, but a Halloween birthday as well.  When I was in elementary school, she would bake her famous ‘chocolate drop cookies’ and bring them to my school, so I could share them with my class.  All my teachers wanted the recipe of those cookies.  I  like birthdays, except these last few years, my age is starting to seem surreal, uncertain at times, and higher than it was a year ago.  I would tell you how, throughout the years when I was a kid, my mother would throw a ‘surprise’ birthday party, then we would all pile into the car to go Trick-or-Treating, after it got dark!  Imagine that.  We had to use a car, because we lived way out in the country in upstate New York, and the nearest neighbors were up to several miles away.  I would tell you that I always enjoyed those birthdays, and somewhere deep inside, that child who had wonderful birthdays and Christmas’s, is still buried deep within me, and that part of me, I might never let go of.  I would also tell you to have a great week.

Four Years Ago Today

Four years ago today

You finally had the last say

But still you plague me deep inside

Never really able to hide

Words so harsh they made me cry

Words so mean I wondered why

Why did no one know

A way long time ago

That mental illness can be passed

Even to the very last

I thank you Mom, for this gift

I hope it gave you a lift

I Am A Winner!

Throughout the years of childhood abuse
They made me feel there was no use
Through all those years of constant strife
I could not live my very own life

A children’s view of this time
I never had a thing that was mine
Hand me downs from those of old
No longer did keep out the cold

The home itself was cold as well
Living there, I went through hell
They taught me when I moved a way
That others still had their say

In how my life to be controlled
Again I lived in that cold
Afraid to peek out of the hole
Burrowed deep within my soul

Now I live here on my own
My body now is fully grown
But carries all the scars I earned
That taught me I had never learned

But down the hole, did I fall?
Little by little I changed it all
Every night I sit for dinner
Another day  I am a winner

Mother And Mother’s Day

A holiday is drawing near,
For most it means there’s someone dear,
I try to forget the entire day,
But I need to find another way.

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I have things I could have said

But I kept my silence instead

Now it’s been over three years

But I’ve not shed many tears

PTSD is what they say

Controls me even to this day

Any love I felt for you

Like a bird, away it flew

Now the day is drawing near

Honor one who caused me fear

I need to get you from my head

Because now you’ve been quite dead

But words and actions came my way

I lived in fear, most every day

The only thing that I will try

Is to say to you, goodbye.

~ van ~

 

One Is The Loneliest Number

One is the loneliest number that you’ll ever see.
No is the saddest experience you’ll ever know.

These words from Three Dog Night’s “One Is The Loneliest Number” are coming from me today.

Home alone for twenty years,
That seems a very long time,
But there’s no one that holds me dear,
And tells me, “You are mine!”

Used to laugh and have some fun,
We often liked to play,
At many campgrounds, near and far,
I loved living this way.

I used to dream when I was young,
I’d run away and hide,
In woods that I would live among,
With animals at my side.

But I never dared to run away,
I knew not what to do,
So forever in my room,
I’d stay away from you.

Not allowed to go and play,
Somewhere else than home,
And also each and every day,
Not allowed to use the phone.

Now I don’t go out and play,
I stay here in my room,
And dream there will come the day,
I pray it will be soon.

The day that You will come for me,
And take me home with You,
And forever I will be,
At peace in all I do.

Gone For Three Years

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Seventy-seven years ago.
You came into this world and so,
I’d like to say inside feels bad,
That feeling, for you I’ve never had.

You will always forever be,
That last year at seventy-three,
I live a life today without,
Worrying about a lot of doubt.

I did not actually cry that day,
When you finally went away,
Sat and listened to the words,
While people stood around in herds.

I now see that they came to see,
My brothers, aunt, and yes, for me,
Her companion she had but little time,
He has come to be family of mine.

Didn’t know they cared for you,
But what I feel will have to do,
I will never shed a tear,
Not this nor any other year.

Depression – Here I Come!

If my mother hadn’t died from stage 4, cervical cancer, she would have turned 76 today.

I don’t know why this is so important to me, when I hated her more each day.

I am angry that cancer got her so young.

But why, after all she had done??

If she’d gone to a doctor to get checked out,

She would have lived, I have no doubt.

She never would go to get seen,

Wouldn’t take me until my pain was keen,

Now I feel I have no one,

Who knows all my father had done,

He too has passed away,

I think of him never, in a good way.

I feel so very much alone,

I sit and wait by the phone,

There is no one I can see real soon,

The silence echos like a boom.

I’m going backwards to a past,

A time when good things never last.

Depression comes, and then it goes,

How long it will last, no one knows.

Almost Made It

The end of the year,
Is almost here.
But I do dread,
What lies ahead.
The date January 3,
Will always remind me,
The age she’d have been,
But will never again.
See that date that means so much,
Almost close enough to touch,
I need to get her out of my mind,
For to me, she was not kind.
Why do I feel so much now that she’s gone,
When no one knew all that she’d done,
To make my life a living hell,
That made me today, not quite well.

Sad Again

That time of year has come again,
I can’t even remember when,
Last month or the one before,
Passed by, to be forever more.
Cards going this way and that,
Some even addressed to my cat!
As for me, I don’t know the sum,
Counting them just makes me feel so glum.
Three years ago, she was here,
The one that most, hold so dear,
Christmas is just not the same,
I’m tired of playing this game.
Someone, please, just open the door,
So I need not ask, anymore,
For the days to pass and ease the pain,
For I know I’ll never see her again.