Tag: mental health

Poetry

Asymptote

Ruby PipesLeave a comment

"57/365 - Fallen Layers" © Ahmed Hashim, 2012. CC BY-NC-ND 2.0.
“57/365 – Fallen Layers” © Ahmed Hashim, 2012. CC BY-NC-ND 2.0.
“So. Many. Layers.”
I wrestle off my ski coat, fleece-lined sweatshirt, and down-filled vest.
The shape of my body finally makes an appearance.

Move the pillows, sit down, and pull my feet underneath me.

“We’re like Russian nesting dolls this time of year, aren’t we?”

It’s the same every time I’m here.
He lights a tea candle,
I settle myself and take a drink of water
out of my Klean Kanteen.
Pause. Deep breath.
“How’ve you been?”

“Good,” he says, smiles at me,
but does not return the question.
Just waits.

Therapy. Continue reading →

Autobiography

Compassion

Ruby Pipes4 Comments
forestforthetrees
“Forest for The Trees” © Emily Horne and Joey Comeau, 2014. a softer world.

Florence Scovel Shinn said, “When you send out real love, real love will return to you.” I think that’s the only way you receive it. You get out what you put in. You see the things you’re looking for. It’s easy to forget. Fall victim to the idea everything is cruel. Fail to realize there are kind things, too. You just stopped seeing them. It becomes ingrained. Accidental habits. Maybe that’s just one of the those things depression does to you. Rolls the fog in. Puts the blinders on. When you’re hurting it’s hard to see the goodness in the world.

It’s hard to see it happen, though. I understand. Bit by bit the softness goes away. Sitting in a room, having a conversation. You don’t notice the sun going down until you can’t see the person in front of you. As if the night landed all at once. When did this happen? When did I become so hopeless? So negative. So angry. Continue reading →

Relationships

Hunger

Ruby PipesLeave a comment

"Organic Onions" © Susy Morris, 2009. CC BY-NC 2.0.
“Organic Onions” © Susy Morris, 2009. CC BY-NC 2.0.
I spent the morning handing out produce at a food bank downtown. Wrapped up in scarves and gloves we curved up our mouths at hundreds, making eye contact and conversation. “Just be warm and welcoming,” our volunteer coordinator told us. What that really means is, “Just acknowledge their humanity.”

Hungry. Not just their bellies. They want someone to see them. Someone to let them know that they’re noticed. They matter. They’re still worthy human beings.

Never in my life have I wondered where my next meal would come from. There were weeks when every meal was Top Ramen and cigarettes, but the meals always existed. I always had the luxury of being more concerned with my monthly booze budget. I made the decision to focus on getting high or drunk over getting fed, but always got fed anyway. I’m thankful for that. But I know the other kind of hunger. The kind Bruce Springsteen sings about. The one that volunteers and donation centers can’t combat. Continue reading →