poetry

Es geht kein Weg zurück

Pay attention to the people who are around you
pay attention in the here and now
to those who are listening and loving you
and trying to reach you and holding you up
and feeling so sad
feeling like they never mattered
because you don’t see them anymore

It’s right in front of you
but you can’t seem to see it
focused on what was lost instead
of what you kept at hand
it is over
it is never ever finished
still you don’t see them anymore

you can’t see me anymore

 

 

something more

 

 

What we let slip through our fingers. What we ignore, absorbed in our own little dramas. What we neglect in favor of what’s comfortable and easy. What we forget, in favor of a beautiful lie. What we will regret, once we let the moment fade in our eagerness to grasp something that has already passed.

 

Ach, und könnte ich doch
Nur ein einziges Mal
Die Uhren rückwärts drehen.
Denn wie viel von dem,
Was ich heute weiß,
Hätte ich lieber nie gesehen.*

 

Look up. Look out. Look beyond.

See what should be seen.

 

  • Lyrics from Kein Zurück, Wolfsheim.

 

I write, as openly as possible, about my experience with depression and abuse, and my ongoing recovery. I share opinions. I promote compassion and change. I talk about music. I also write poetry and short stories. I like to share them here.

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insight

Whatever happened to/The life that we once knew?

Can we really live without each other?

Perennial question, right? This time of year makes me question everything.  It makes me want to hibernate, and at the same time run away and go do everything I’ve been denied. I feel like hiding in my studio and just making things until the world ends. I feel like dressing in my best outfit and dancing with people I love, hands and hips and hugs.

I’m torn between the what-was and what-if, these days.

The allure of diving into the past, reliving all those delicious memories, of course softened and made tastier by the quality of being faded by recollection.

The seduction of finding the new, the untested, the unknown quantity that excites and promises something altogether different than the mundanity of NOW.

fly free

 

 

To fly free across darkening skies, towards something that might only be a dream. That’s where my soul yearns. To bring that beautiful romanticized past along for the freeflight, as a guide of what more could be. That is my confession, my desire, my unfettered dream.

 

All the possibilities lie open before me, if only I dare to spread my wings.

 

 

 

I write, as openly as possible, about my experience with depression and abuse, and my ongoing recovery. I share opinions. I promote compassion and change. I talk about music. I also write poetry and short stories. I like to share them here.

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insight

I want something more than this / All this time I’ve been waiting

wait

 

What I drew from the [online] deck today:

“You may feel that you are losing your patience. Things are still not working out. But we do not have to be confined in long cycles of time and in space as big as galaxies. A certain gestation period is required before the complete satisfaction of all your wildest desires.”

I’m more patient than most people that I know. I’ve waited so long, for so many things – people, changes, justice/karma, opportunity… here’s the thing. I can wait for a very long time if I have something to hold on to. A crumb of hope, a bit of attention, the acknowledgement that more is coming down the pike soon – give me something to keep in my heart, to keep the dream afloat.

I am steadfast, I am a rock – as long as I have a reason to believe. Give me a reason.

 

rainydaythoughts

 

*lyrics from Bella Morte – “Undone” 

I write, as openly as possible, about my experience with depression and abuse, and my ongoing recovery. I share opinions. I promote compassion and change. I talk about music. I also write poetry and short stories. I like to share them here.

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poetry

the offering

a certain longing
lamenting that I have no more to give
that I have too much to lose
by giving my all
I give myself away too often
and yet I feel empty otherwise
will you treasure what I offer?
a heart full of secrets
a tongue to give song
I would not hold back from you
although it cost me dearly
when you look into me
when you take your fill
why is it that I only feel complete
when I am losing myself?
key-101436_1280

Will I find that finally
when I look into your eyes
that everything I am
is reflected, amplified
did you pay attention
to the gift I made of me?
Or have I opened up too far
unnecessarily…?
I am waiting
I am waiting
to look into your eyes

I write, as openly as possible, about my experience with depression and abuse, and my ongoing recovery. I share opinions. I promote compassion and change. I talk about music. I also write poetry and short stories. I like to share them here.

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reviews

You drew a star, and I drew a circle

 

 

mixtape

 

 

I don’t usually post a lot of recommendations on this blog – generally, I either do that on the Threeravens blog, because it’s fibery-related, or when I do, it’s all about some band’s new release. However, I LOVE supporting my friends’ handmade businesses, especially when what they’re doing is really wonderful… doesn’t hurt if the product in question also appeals to my music taste at the same time, either!

My friend Vajra runs Conjure Oils, a one-woman driven perfumery business that focuses on both oils for scent and for ritual, and she’s a master at evoking a mood through her blends. She offers a massive category of different oil blends at Conjure, and I could easily buy all of them if only I could afford to – they’re all that good!

I recently treated myself to one of her Limited Edition blends, from a collection she called Mixtape: August Gloom 2014. Seriously, it was SO HARD to pick just one – she based her offerings on songs by Cocteau Twins, Dead Can Dance, Joy Division, The Chameleons, Phantogram and many other excellent bands… pretty much everything I listen to all the time. After so much deliberation, and ruling out scents based on how much I knew I’d wear them versus the amazing inspirations [really, how DOES one reject a Joy Division based scent? It was tough!] I settled on Golden Dawn, based on the song by Legendary Pink Dots. The description of the oil:

A high ritual oil for union: frankincense, myrrh, dragon’s blood, holy sandalwood and blessed lotus.

Fuck yes. Sign me up.

And it came today, and I opened the bottle and breathed deep, reverently… it is PERFECT. I got shivers, seriously. It is so perfect, I could feel the song in my head and the moment surrounded me until the whiff faded away. Worth every penny, just for that moment alone, I swear. I can’t wait to wear this – with the days slowly getting colder, this will be a mystical little secret next to my skin that will thrill me every time I get a sniff of it.

You can still get oils from this collection, or her other current Limited Editions [I have one on the way from a collection she brought back for a while, how awesome is that?] or any of her other lines, by clicking here: http://www.conjureoils.com/ – tell her that Xiane sent you!

 

 

I write, as openly as possible, about my experience with depression and abuse, and my ongoing recovery. I share opinions. I promote compassion and change. I talk about music. I also write poetry and short stories. I like to share them here.

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poetry

Awakening, to the Forest

heart forest

 

flash of sun through the trees

like the shock of sudden insight

hidden secrets under low-growing branches

amidst the berries and ferns

 

there are things unspoken between you and I

there are things we need not say

we can speak without using impersonal words

we can speak through the touch of a hand

 

I buried my heart in the rich forest earth

at the foot of an old oak tree

I gave my toll to the river and I

sang my song for the sky

 

what they will bring me, I dare not say

I cannot guess, I might only dream

but cloudless nights reveal more than just stars

and the river has washed away my fears

 

I write, as openly as possible, about my experience with depression and abuse, and my ongoing recovery. I share opinions. I promote compassion and change. I talk about music. I also write poetry and short stories. I like to share them here.

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photos

dream: waxing optimistic

treesky

 

There was no obvious reason for you to be here – yet somehow dream logic prevailed, and there you were, wandering amongst old gnarled trees and broken-down buildings. The birch trees reached up to touch the edge of the smokestack, the single remaining remnant of the building left untouched by the ravages of time.

 

We looked up, awed by their tenacity – would we be able to reach so high? You doubted, as you often do. I, of course, waxed optimistic, reaching for the tops of the trees in vain. Laughing, I turned to you, eager to share my joy. You took my hands as if to directly connect with what I am. You could have kissed me then, I would have met you halfway.
We merely traded knowing smiles – nearly as intimate as your hands upon me.

I write, as openly as possible, about my experience with depression and abuse, and my ongoing recovery. I share opinions. I promote compassion and change. I talk about music. I also write poetry and short stories. I like to share them here.

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insight

when all is forgotten will you help me rewind?

My friend Chad and I, NYE, doing what people do then. What I don't do now.
My friend Chad and I, NYE 2003, doing what people do then. What I don’t do now.

 

This week… man, this week. I have been composing this post in my head since Monday evening. That’s when everything I’ve been trying to push to the back of my life and ignore came out and smacked me in the face… because that’s when the news hit everywhere that Robin Williams had taken his life. They actually broke into the CBS Evening News to announce it – and the shock, the sadness, the disbelief was almost universal. It brought into harsh light the questions and fears that have been echoing across discussions since the announcement – what happened that made him decide it was finally too hard? How is it that a man with all the resources possible to get help still was lost? What does this to a person, especially one like him, who brought so much joy and light to the world?

See, if you’re someone like me, someone who has been near the edge of that moment, who lives with the darkness regularly… the only question you have is “if he had that those resources and couldn’t stay alive, what are my chances?” But the folks who don’t understand how Depression works… I feel for y’all. I really do. It’s a bitch to be in the midst of it, but it must be so much worse to see your loved one stuck in this and you can’t see what’s hurting, can’t understand why it’s happening and how it feels, and can’t do a fucking thing about it. That’s why there’s so much hurt happening all over the internet about this loss, I think. It’s weirdly personal – Williams was a celebrity but he made us feel like we knew him, he was really good at breaking through barriers with his antics to find the sort of laughter that made your day better – and there he was, carrying that darkness and pain with him all the time.

I’m not going to pretend that I have something more profound to say about him or what’s happened than anyone else has offered. I can only do what I do best – talk some about my personal journey and why this news shook me up. Because I’d had a blog post brewing before this happened anyway, and then BAM it was much more intense and scary and immediate than anything I’d been dealing with. Because this month marks 10 years that I’ve been sober, one of the best decisions that I ever made in regards to my mental health, even though the social pressure to give it up was harder to navigate than any desire to fall off the wagon. Because the darkness has been overwhelming this Summer, and I know that I’m not the only one feeling it. Because my illness doesn’t make me want to drink or use drugs, but it does prompt me to do stupid shit in a combination mindfuck of trying to make me feel better and momentarily forget the pain, and also give me things to be guilty about so that the pain can come back and drown me again. Yay. Oh yay.

A fantastic failure, one to remember,
when tomorrow comes
And I don’t care no more, I just wanna touch
that magic escape over again

Drinking wasn’t actually an escape for me. Well… yes and no. It cut the pain for a bit. The curse of using depressants to treat Depression is that hello, it’s the same thing eventually. But first? First it works like a bit of a stimulant, and that first high, the feeling of being free and fake-happy and losing inhibitions and all that is ridiculously attractive to someone who fights to keep her head up every day. Then the sucker punch comes… though can you really call it a sucker punch when it happens all too often? I should have learned to expect it. But the part where everything is great is SUCH a relief that I would want to go back to that to the tune of overruling the knowledge that I would regret it when the high wore off and the depressant part kicked in.

This wasn’t my only method of trying to find that golden moment without pain. But it was the most consistent one. There’s a lot of other reckless therapies that people pursue – drugs, sex, risk, overspending, etc. I don’t like talking about my forays into this sort of behavior. It’s embarrassing. But it’s happened, and usually when I feel less risk-adverse, I know that I’m in a bad spot and can stave it off before anything dumb happens.

It’s another one of the reasons why I’m so open about what I go through. It makes it easier to say “I am afraid and I need help” and also for you to say “I recognize this behavior, maybe I’m not alone and it’s okay to ask for help.”

If I hadn’t stopped drinking, I probably would have ended up dead. It made the lows too hard to bear, even as it gave me some highs to comfort me.

I'm passably happy here, despite the face - but still in the throes of a Depressive episode. Funny how that works.
I’m passably happy here, despite the face – but still in the throes of a Depressive episode. Funny how that works.

 

I’m too stubborn to give up. That’s what keeps me going. Maybe that won’t always be the case, but it’s worked for 47 years so far, so there’s that. Robin Williams managed 63 years of fighting it. It wears you down, is the problem. It’s fucking insidious, whispering that you’re a big lie, that no one likes you as much as they say that they do, that when the person you really want to hear from doesn’t call it’s because you’re a loser, that when you do succeed at something it’s only because you’re lucky/they feel sorry for you/it’s a fluke. That eats at you, chips at the resolve. All the positive mantras and meditations and self-love exercises and all that bullshit only can do so much. Man, do I wish that it would banish those voices all the way. Meds didn’t, meditation didn’t. Heh. I just have to keep insisting NO I AM NOT A SHITHEEL I AM A DECENT PERSON STRUGGLING TO BE BETTER.

The personal failures are out of sight
when all is forgotten will you help me rewind?
We’re standing on top of the world tonight
We’re on top of the world tonight

Every day is a repeat of this. Some days are okay. Some days are completely fucking shitty thank you very much and I don’t even want to get out of bed. But I keep reminding myself that even when everything’s shit, that there WILL be better days afterwards. There always has been so far. Sometimes it takes a while to find one. But they’re out there.

If you can’t find that ability to remind yourself, please please please take what resolve you have and call the National Suicide Prevention Hotline, at any time, 1-800-273-TALK (8255). Or set it up with a trusted friend or family member ahead of time where you can just say a code word and they’ll know you need them more than you ever have before and will have instructions on what to do. You can even email me. I might not be right there but I will listen and I will do whatever I can to get you through. I know how hard it can be to even reach a little, but you are not alone. I swear.

As for me, my fog is lifting a little, but it’s going to take a while. This Summer has screwed up a lot of things for me, with the Depressive episode sapping my momentum and damaging a few relationships. That’s how that goes. I am too familiar with the drill. But I’ll get through. I always do. I’m too stubborn to give up.

 

 

I write, as openly as possible, about my experience with depression and abuse, and my ongoing recovery. I share opinions. I promote compassion and change. I talk about music. I also write poetry and short stories. I like to share them here.

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Opening The Gate

opening the gate

Why are you silent
in this circle of words
the center of your knowledge
embrace the secret stillness
you are going home
and I will follow
I am not afraid

Into the woods
the dark mickle woods
the center of your knowledge
leaves like dampened silk
unfetter your stillness
soothe me with celestial eyes
and old gnarled stumps
dressed in mossy velvet
I am not afraid.

Words like tender benedictions
rain down on open palms
the center of your knowledge
is my name inside the Green
lay claim to the key
embrace the secret stillness
with an open eye
I am not afraid

We are going home
I am not afraid.

 

 

 

 

 

  • photo & words, Christiane Knight

I write, as openly as possible, about my experience with depression and abuse, and my ongoing recovery. I share opinions. I promote compassion and change. I talk about music. I also write poetry and short stories. I like to share them here.

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the moon doesn’t judge

moon

 

Calm beacon in the night sky
you don’t judge me
you just watch from high above
you just observe
you just light the way

I write, as openly as possible, about my experience with depression and abuse, and my ongoing recovery. I share opinions. I promote compassion and change. I talk about music. I also write poetry and short stories. I like to share them here.

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