He tells me he loves me

*I just finished writing this poem as I drank my daily cup of coffee and cried at my dining room table… Good morning. If you’ve read my blog before, you might be aware that I write a lot about my journey with mental health and the struggles that I have in that journey. I know that mental health is something that is pretty prevalent in the media today, but I still find writing posts like this to be really difficult. I think that I find it so hard, because a lot of struggles in mental health are still taboo to talk about. There are so many articles out there that say to “take a bath” or “go on a walk” as a form of self care, and don’t get me wrong those are great tools, but I don’t see as many people posting about the bad days of what having depression or PTSD is really like, at least not in mainstream media.

Last night was one of my bad days. My husband and I got a puppy about a week ago and our sleep schedule has been out of wack ever since. Our puppy (Marceline) has been crying at all hours of the night and doesn’t like staying in her puppy pen at all. This means that we have been waking up every 2-3 hours to sooth her and to take her outside for her potty breaks. My husband works 12 hour shifts and had to go into work this morning and so I wanted to make sure to take the lead on taking care of her. One thing that I have learned about myself though, is that I do not function well on little sleep. It causes me to get more emotional more easily and that’s exactly what happened last night.

I took Marceline out for her bi-hourly potty break and when I went to put her back in her puppy pen, I accidentally bumped her on the edge of her pen. She didn’t seem hurt by this, but I instinctually assumed that I hurt her and I had a bit of a meltdown. I reverted to an old coping mechanism that I’ve had ever since I was a child and started hitting myself in my face and saying how stupid I was. I am tearing up even writing this, because of how embarrassing and private this behavior is. This coping mechanism is something that only people who are really close to me sometimes see when my depression gets out of control. My self harm is something that I thought I would get over after therapy, but that just wasn’t the case. It’s something that is ongoing and that I still struggle with often.

It’s extremely embarrassing for me as a grown woman to acknowledge that sometimes I hurt myself. I am also overwhelmed by guilt that someone that I love so much (my husband) sees me in that state. Anytime something like this happens he is always there to hold me and tell me that he loves me. Even though he had to wake up at 4am for work, he still made sure that I was okay and held me until he was convinced that I was out of my self harm mindset.

I wrote this poem to explain what I am feeling the morning after I self harmed. *

He tells me he loves me.

He tells me he loves me.

He makes it look easy.

How could it be easy?

I’ve been trying for years.

I chase my big dreams

To make me feel something.

Maybe I could feel something 

In a couple of years.

I feel so guilty

For everyone around me.

The weight that I carry 

Makes me want to disappear.

I know that I have problems,

I just don’t know how to solve them.

When will I finally blossom

From the water of my tears?

Can I somehow atone me?

Will I always feel so lonely?

When will things like fucking coping,

Not be my worst fears?

He tells me that he loves me.

It looks so damn easy.

It makes me feel so guilty.

When will I finally love me?

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