Wake Up

I started taking something for my depression and anxiety. So far,
it makes me feel less crazy, and I am enjoying the part where I
don't stress out and obsess about literally everything. I didn't
realize how bad it was until now. Before I started taking these meds,
I was in a dark place. A place I've been before, and always hate to be. But
the sun had never been so eclipsed. Whenever I find myself in that hole,
I always call out to my grandmother who passed away a few years ago.
She had always been a source of strength when she was alive, and I continue
to depend on her, even in her death. When things get bad, I remind myself that
Edith Jenkins wouldn't stand for this. I often feel her with me, guiding me.
She was with me when I was losing my mind.
She helped bring me out of it. She helped me wake up.


Wake Up

She buries herself in a porcelain grave,

The water turning pink, lapping at her skin,

The warmest embrace she’s felt in a while.

Last night she scratched through the thin flesh

Of her wrists, trying to pull out the pain.

Searching for a word that no one wants to speak.

For years she’s suffered, silent, motionless

From a sickness in her blood, her brain,

Passed down from mother to daughter, mother to daughter.

She holds her breath until her lungs burn, sinks deeper.

All of it fades, blurs around the edges.

But suddenly her grandmother’s voice echoes

Wake up.

Thank you to the people who stuck by me during this frantic section of my life.
Thank you for not making feel crazy. Thank you for sitting by my side and waiting
for me to wake up.