Tag: mental health Page 9 of 11
The dragonflies dart in front of me. They are large and swift, but are careful not to be a nuisance. They rise and fall as they flutter through the air, searching for a perch in which to look for prey.
The honesty of empty places
a thought
a smile
books, hiking, breathing
happiness in solitude
enjoyment in alone
sit and watch
humans
animals
smiles from creatures
who do not understand
the joy of isolated socialization
I have turned in my key. I have made my peace. I am no longer a reporter and photographer for the Star-Herald.
For the past five and a half years, I have written on a variety of topics and always put my best foot forward. That time has come to an end.
My day began with a flashback. It caught me unaware, arriving moments after opening my eyes. I had been fighting flashbacks on and off for about a week. Using my coping skills, I felt I had won this battle and headed off to work – tired, sleep-deprived, hopeful.
The memories are flames that lick the edges of my life, always anxious to burn me once again. They are always there and always exhausting. I want to cry. I’m angry. I’m tired. Some days, nothing makes them go away. A touch, a smell, anything that triggers the memories can ruin my day.
I often tell people that just being me is an overwhelming experience on the best of days. Most people have an idea of what I’m going through, but they never truly know.
I write the words I do here because I’m not ashamed of my diagnosis. I am one small cog in a giant wheel talking about mental illness to help remove the stigma associated with it. I am here for that one person who reads what I write and says, “yeah, me too. I get that.”
Geoffrey Evert at the Lake Minatare lighthouse.
I still miss the boy who became a man. His wide smile and thoughtful nature could always cheer up my day. I remember all the moments of all the days he was here. On March 17, 2018, the making of memories ceased.
I became a two-time member of a group I never wanted to join. I’m a four-time member now.
When the world comes crashing down, everyone hopes there will helping hands to share the load. The reality is, you’re always going to be fighting that battle alone.
The phone calls will be there. The offers of assistance will be presented, but the truth remains – no one can fathom the depths you have to climb to make it out alive.
They may try to carry you, to hold your hand, to help you on your way. In the end, however, it is always you who must carry the burden alone.
