What Might Have Been

A story about the Rose that longs for the Moon.

The moon was lonely.

It was a hard job lighting up the night sky while everyone else was sleeping.

One day the moon took up singing in order to pass the time. It sang songs about loneliness and sadness. Then it sang songs about love and loss.

A passing cloud heard the moon’s melancholy songs and stopped to give a listen. The moon’s song touched him so deeply that he began to weep, which of course formed rain. The rain washed over the bushes of roses causing one single-stemmed rose to feel refreshed and new.

“That feels good,” the rose said to the cloud. “Thank you.”

“Thank the moon,” the cloud replied. “Her sad songs made me cry. And every time I cry I feel lighter,” the cloud said as he floated away.

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Courage, Dear Heart

There are many times in life where fear becomes a mighty fortress in my life, holding me captive though I want to break free. I never was one to possess a great deal of bravery. I was afraid of many things; darkness, loneliness, or being abandoned, cages, numbness, and even more afraid of having no means to control what was happening in my life.

If something upset my little world, I wanted to fix it, and fix it damn fast. If something upset a loved one’s world, I wanted to fix it as well.

If I could do nothing to control the storms in my life, fear came in and swept over me, capturing me in iron-clad talons. A cage I am very scared of.

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I Am Ready To Talk About My Semicolon Tattoo

A few years ago, I first became aware of what was being called agitated depression.” It was my own most challenging struggles and the first ring of hell with clinical depression. It took me so much closer to the fire of self-hating/loathing, the desire to do yourself harm, and thoughts of suicide. The agitated piece is the anxiety and panic attacks.

Once I was clinically diagnosed with anxiety, I started to pop anti-depressants every morning with a breakfast I could barely stomach. I had to leave some lives I’d wanted because of my stress. Depression took a lot from me, but the most tragic thing is the way I could not bring it up to anyone. I told almost no one about what has been going on just because I didn’t have the courage to. I battled it on my own everyday, until I degradingly distanced my self with my friends and families.

Now this doesn’t mean that I have been depressed for my entire life, that isn’t how it works. It simply means that for as long as I can remember, I have experienced periods of depression of varying lengths. And that for as long as I can remember, I’ve lived in fear of those times.

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