Suicide By Pen

Holding love letters back
because the intended recipient
is not as romantic as the writer
is like stabbing oneself
in the heart
with one’s own pen.
~Steeny Lou

(More Quickies by Steeny Lou:  Quickies Category)


Remembering a happier me


For several weeks, due to various circumstances, I had been in a deep, dark depression, which started to lift a few days ago.

I am not sure what caused it to lift.

It could have been because of the prayers of friends.

It could have been because of the remedy given to me by my homeopath on January 18 starting to work.

It could be the various supplements from my naturopath, which I started on January 11, to get me on the road to healing from adrenal burnout, kicking in.

It could have been because of answers to unspoken questions in my tormented heart finally being answered from within the confines of silence.

It could be a combination of all of the above, or it could be something I haven’t even guessed.

Up until a few days ago, I didn’t care if I lived.

Now, however, I feel like I want to get better.

I am not sure how far this seed of hope will grow, but for now, I am grateful it is growing.

This video is from May or June of 2011.  I hope I can someday be that happy on a regular basis.

How do I stop the music?

Music usually soothes me, but not lately.

What was once my medicine has become my poison.

The only songs I write anymore are sad ones.

I don’t want to write the lyrics, yet they come to mind.

Sometimes I can force them away.

Other times, I write them down through eyes blurred by tears.

Today, while I was at the grocery store, I felt such sadness over hearing music through the speakers, I had to fight crying.

I want the pain to stop, but I am not feeling hopeful that it will.

While driving home, I saw a semi headed towards me.  I was alone in my little car.  I thought, as I’ve thought many times before, about how easy it would be to drive head-on into that semi.  I would die instantly.  The semi would be left with minor damage.

The only thing keeping me alive is the thought that my children might suffer if I am not around.