February 14

The last 3 weeks have been messed up. Just one thing after another falling away. The timing is weird. In 2001, the last few weeks before Valentine’s Day were weird, too. The fastest part of the decline started in the latter part of January, and by February 14 I was in the hospital. Every year this day comes and goes, and literally no one in my life–no matter how close–ever remembers that this is the anniversary of my suicide attempt. That this holiday hasn’t meant shit to me since 2001. For the world, it’s a day of love. For me, it’s a day of death. A day no one remembers but me. A day everyone forgets, but I can’t. My heart breaks every year. Alone. 

This year is weird because it kind of mirrors 2001 more than many years have. I’m clearly unhappy, and all kinds of bad shit has been happening since the latter part of January. For a moment, it actually seemed like this year might be better than the last. It’s only February, I know, but it’s off to a shit start. I feel driven inward. Rejected, dismissed, unwanted. 

I can’t give up like in 2001. I’m not paranoid or psychotic. Just depressed and anxious. Lost and tired. I feel it more keenly this year. It’s too close. I wrote this “poem” about it. It’s really just fragmented thoughts, so pardon my pretending to write something out of my genre. Sometimes it just spills onto the page that way. 

It was 16 years ago.

It doesn’t feel that long ago.

So many things closer seem farther away

Than that day.

I want to stop thinking about it.

I want to forget how it felt.

I want to forget the reasons why.

I want to just move on.

Maybe if I could get well then it would be gone.

Maybe it wouldn’t haunt me.

It follows me around.

I see it all the time in my mind.

I see it. It’s too real.

I feel it too deeply.

I can still smell it.

I remember.

I see her fixing her hair.

I see myself staring into the mirror.

I see the pills in piles of ten.

And I remember sitting bent over saying, “I’m wrong.”

I felt hated.

I felt rejected.

I felt trapped.

I felt afraid.

If only I could forget that day.

If only everything had been different.

If only I had been braver sooner.

But it didn’t turn out that way.

It happened. I can’t forget.

And I haven’t escaped it.

I changed, but it came with me.

(And it ruins everything still.)

It’s painful to remember so deeply.

I still remember.

It hurts. My heart breaks over and over.

But I don’t wish I could do it differently.

It became the escape I wasn’t expecting.

I thought I would die.

Instead I got out.

I got to start over.

There are things I lost.

There are things I mourn.

There are mistakes I made.

But I got out.

So why does it feel like a ghost?

I got out,

So why can’t I forget?

Why do I see it so clearly?

Why does it feel so fresh?

I remember.

I know why I did it.

It wasn’t a mistake.

It was my way of saying no.

I was saying that I can’t.

I still can’t.

And I have to keep saying it.

Just not that way.

Never that way.

It wasn’t a mistake.

I got out.

But now it has to be different.

Even if I can’t forget.

I still remember.

But it has to be different.


One thought on “February 14

  1. I know you do not like posts that tell you they know how you feel and I don’t. I do know that I have to rid myself of people that feed my depression and nurture the things that bring me momentary peace. I am outside with pine straw today. I am trying to train my mind to not look back at bad things that I wish I could change. I am trying to live in the moment, just me and my poodle, Buddy, until June gets back from an errand. I pray for your family daily. God wants us to have joy, I just do not know exactly how to get there. I do see Spiritual growth and God’s blessings but sometimes wonder why the growth has to be so painful. Be happy is my prayer for you today.

    Liked by 2 people

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