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I've written quite a few poems over the years, but haven't done one in a long time now?

I think this one was the last one I've written........


Thoughts.



The silence fills my aching heart
When will it end, where did it start
Will what I write, in my somber mood
Ever be really, understood.

Does anyone know the reason why
They all back off, when they see me cry
Living alone brings so much change
Your whole existence needs re-arranged

All the people, you thought were friends
Play a new game, of let's pretend
This is your life, that's changed for ever
Keeping the memories, you shared together

As they are all, that your allowed
Standing alone, within the crowd.
 
Yesterday morning was bad...a whole new level of bad and I don't know what I'm supposed to do about this. Everyone keeps saying I need to find a therapist, and I'm looking into it but it's not easy to find one around here that I can afford. The grounding techniques I've used in the past don't seem to do much for me anymore and the attacks are getting worse every time. All it took was the wrong word to be said by my co-workers, and I spent the rest of my shift shaking and trying to not fall apart, and when I did get home...it was really bad. I kept flashing back to what happened, and there are new pieces coming up the more it happens and I don't want to remember any more than what I already do..I don't want to remember any of it! There are bigger chunks that are becoming less fuzzy and the idea of learning more about what happened scares the crap out of me and makes me sick.
At first it was only flashes of feelings more than images, sounds, usually my own..it was hard, but I did my best to just push through it, and I told myself it didn't matter. But they just kept coming, more often and in more detail.
If I can't shove it away anymore, I just wish it would come up so I could have one giant freak out, then start to get through it, but instead it just keeps coming in chunks and I have huge freak outs after every new detail...
I don't want all the details.
I don't want to remember his face, who he was or is. I don't know if he's a relative or not, if he's alive or dead. What if I remember, and it's someone that's still in my life? What the hell do I do about that?
All of this is just driving me up the freaking wall...
 
It's like going in to labour. Your body knows it's time to rid itself of this, whether you feel like you're ready or not. You do need to talk to someone. Perhaps your GP could recommend an affordable option for you.

Is this something that I could talk to your boss about, ink?
 
I don't have a GP anymore, my old one moved over a year ago and I never bothered getting a new one..I don't do well with doctors.
I don't really know what my boss could do about any of this, my insurance isn't through them
 
I was just thinking that he might be kind of rattled if your behavior is erratic...
 
thankfully out of the two main managers I have, I've worked for one of them before, and have known her for a few years. She knows about my anxiety so she just chalks my moods up to that. If I have a particularly rough day she'll usually pull me aside and ask how I am, but I still get my duties taken care of, my mood is just shit and I have to be left alone.
 
Good, so you don't have to worry about losing your job. Ink, I really want to see you heal from your traumas, but I think you are going to have to find a way to get treatment. This shit just doesn't go away. :(
 
I've been looking for therapists in the area, so far no luck. They're either too far away from where I live, or cost too much, but I'm still looking. As much as I hate doctors I don't know how to handle this on my own and I'm not sure how much longer I can keep on like this..
 
:hug:
Your poetry and writing, it's beautiful. The poems you write, they're very relatable.... Your story is much different than mine, but I can kind of fall in line with your words and interpret them into my own story, ya know?
That's the hallmark of great writing, (for me), where others can interpret the words in their own way.
I do hope you can find a good therapist soon, I hate to see you (and others) in great pain, but while feeling as if there's no help available for you.
:hug:s again if you accept.
 
It seems I've become somewhat of a writing machine. I've filled almost half a notebook with my ramblings within the past week. Some of it's solid, sentences and prose, but more often than not, it's pieces of memories, half written sentences, sometimes just words written in corners of pages...then there are the pages where I've written the same thing repetitively.
The prose and pieces of poetry I've written always seem come out at very...inopportune times. This one, for example, I ended up writing inbetween loads of laundry today, well, yesterday, technically? It was a good day all thing considered, I was up, mood wise, for the entire day, did laundry, cleaned my room, overall I was very productive. Yet about half way through folding my laundry...the words came pouring into my head...so, I wrote.



The search for what was lost.
The search for hope.
The searh for truth.
The search for what could be.

What was lost?
Innocence was lost.
Time was lost.
I was lost.

Hope.
I had hope.
I lost hope.
I need hope.

Truth.
What is truth?
Where is the truth?
Is there a truth?

What could be?
What should be?
Who could be?
Could I be?
 

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