In Depression Wallow

No Joke, Another Toke

I was thinking today about how happy I am that I don’t do this anymore!  Then I started pondering addictions as a whole.  

There are all sorts of  addicts; drugs, cigarettes, sex, alcohol, porn, adrenaline,  gambling, etc.  I believe that you can probably be addicted to anything  to some degree.  I figured if you become OCD about it, then you are addicted to it.  So I decided to get the proper definition of it:

ad·dic·tion   [uh-dik-shuhn]

noun:   the state of being enslaved to a habit or practice or to something that is psychologically or physically habit-forming, as narcotics, to such an extent that its cessation causes severe trauma.

Creating Rules

How Will You Ever Know?

*image source: dark.pozadia.org

Where do you hide
when the hits keep coming?
Where do you turn
when there is no running?

How do you stand
when you need to fall?
How do you decline
to answer their call?

What do you do
when you’re on the edge?
How do you keep
yourself on the ledge?

There are times that
it seems hope is gone
For any time coming
that you can move on

But if you jump off
how will you ever know
What God has planned
for your next show?

Teresa Marie 3/29/12 ©

 

* For all my friends and family who are wondering if their lives will ever get any better; as long as you take a breath, there is hope!!!

picture it & write: Blind Sight Edition; So Sorry!

 

Leocardo struggled to focus on the document before him. The words were tiny, miniscule and appeared more like a hoard of crawling ants rather than legal text. What would happen to Odette if he signed it? It was all for her health and safety, or so they said, but Edaion had so many mysteries up it’s sleeve that Leocardo didn’t know if he could trust the doctor’s words. He lifted his head and peered down the sterile hallway of the hospital but he could not see his unwell sister. Was this the right thing? Fatigue was clouding his thoughts and vision. With a sudden start he signed his name, the pen slid off the page when he finished the last letter. Had he made the right choice? Were these the people who could be trusted with Odette’s life?

– Ermisenda Alvarez

 


__picture it & write: Blind Sight Edition

by Ermilia

My Monday Thoughts – Hanging In There

I just wanted to let everyone know that I am hanging in there, it may be by my nails though! 

I am waiting for a phone call with a court date and time mostly (along with a few other things that I can’t talk about right now.)  The only way to keep my sanity is to write.  My concentration level as far as reading anything is about zero.  I’m not so very sick as to just sleep the time away.

So I will just continue to write today and won’t expect you to read everything that I do.  It is purely an exercise in stress relief.  Believe it or not, I probably won’t publish half of what I do write but write I must.  Almost sounds cliché, doesn’t it?  Kind of like “to do or die”, lol.

Though I know God is working everything out, the waiting is a pain!

Love to all,
Terri

 

Crabby Old Man- A Poem E-Mailed Me From My Brother – A Must Read For Anyone!

CRABBY OLD MAN

When an old man died in the geriatric ward of a nursing home in North Platte , Nebraska , it was believed that he had nothing left of any value.

Later, when the nurses were going through his meager possessions, they found this poem. Its quality and content so impressed the staff that copies were made and distributed to every nurse in the hospital. One nurse took her copy to Missouri .

The old man’s sole bequest to posterity has since appeared in the Christmas edition of the News Magazine of the St. Louis Association for Mental Health. A slide presentation has also been made based on his simple, but eloquent, poem.

And this old man, with nothing left to give to the world, is now the author of this ‘anonymous’ poem winging across the Internet.

Crabby Old Man

What do you see nurses? . . .. .. . What do you see?
What are you thinking . . . . . when you’re looking at me?
A crabby old man . . .. . . not very wise, Uncertain of habit . . . . . with faraway eyes?

Who dribbles his food . . . . . and makes no reply.
When you say in a loud voice . . . . . ‘I do wish you’d try!’
Who seems not to notice . .. . . . the things that you do.
And forever is losing . . . . . A sock or shoe?

Who, resisting or not . . . . . lets you do as you will, With bathing and feeding . . . . . The long day to fill?
Is that what you’re thinking? . . . . . Is that what you see?
Then open your eyes, nurse . . . . . you’re not looking at me.

I’ll tell you who I am. . . . .. . As I sit here so still, As I do at your bidding, . . . . . as I eat at your will.
I’m a small child of Ten . . . . . with a father and mother, Brothers and sisters . . . . . who love one another.

A young boy of Sixteen . . . . with wings on his feet.
Dreaming that soon now . .. . . . a lover he’ll meet.
A groom soon at Twenty . . . . . my heart gives a leap.
Remembering, the vows . . . . . that I promised to keep.

At Twenty-Five, now . . . . . I have young of my own.
Who need me to guide . . . . . And a secure happy home.
A man of Thirty . . . .. . My young now grown fast, Bound to each other . . . . . With ties that should last.

At Forty, my young sons . . .. . . have grown and are gone, But my woman’s beside me . . . . . to see I don’t mourn.
At Fifty, once more, babies play ’round my knee, Again, we know children . . .. . . My loved one and me.

Dark days are upon me . . . . . my wife is now dead.
I look at the future . . . . . shudder with dread.
For my young are all rearing . . . . . young of their own.
And I think of the years . . . . . and the love that I’ve known.

I’m now an old man . … . . . and nature is cruel.
Tis jest to make old age . . . . . look like a fool.
The body, it crumbles . . . . . grace and vigor, depart.
There is now a stone . . . . where I once had a heart.

But inside this old carcass . . . . . a young guy still dwells, And now and again . . . . . my battered heart swells.
I remember the joys . . . . . I remember the pain.
And I’m loving and living . . . . . life over again.

I think of the years, all too few . . . .. . gone too fast.
And accept the stark fact . . . . that nothing can last.
So open your eyes, people . . . . . open and see.
Not a crabby old man .. . . Look closer . . . see ME!!

Remember this poem when you next meet
an older person who you might brush aside without looking at the young soul within.
We will all, one day, be there, too!

If I Lose My Mind

If I lose my mind
will you be so kind

To help get it back
and on the right track?

If crazy I have gone
and I can’t go on

Will you then carry me
until my mind is free?

Feel like I’m losing it
on pins and needles sit

Can’t take too much more
God help me like before

And give me Your peace
to make my worries cease

One child among the world
a prayer to You hurled

And waits patiently on You
for Your will to do!

Teresa Marie   10/2/11