Of course another update

I like to do random updates through the year so that people can get to know me. Which is probably neccessary considering I mainly write poetry on here. But ya know, I got to keep people on their toes I guess.

Whatever that means.

So here is another random update.

School has been hectic. I am doing surprisingly well this semester though I am also doing really had. 3 A+ and 2 F.

How did I accomplish this beautiful feat?

Well my therapist says depression. For some reason my happy chemicals are only present for the classes that I enjoy or ones where the professor makes the class interesting. Even if it is one I would normally dislike due to the subject or the nature of the course. I do well because the professor is responsive, as are my classmates. With courses I dislike or ones where the professor is…meanish, I do not do well in. It is almost as if I become drained of all energy when it comes down to doing the school work.

Like for instance. I am failing a course and asked a professor for help. His response was basically to tell me to do better. Like thank you my guy! Such enlightenment 🙃.

The other professor is for speech. For those of you who have been here for some time you probably know that I have social anxiety. To the point where I have been diagnosed with a minor form of Agoraphobia. Why minor I say? Because I can leave my house and talk to people if the reason I need to do so is for my kid. But I can not do those things for me.

So I order groceries online because grocery stores make me anxious and I go to the doctor only when things start looking like ginger ale ain’t cutting it no more. Even something as simple as taking out the trash is a hassle because there are people at there

Breathing people who can judge. They are CONSTANTLY staring and judging and bound to hurt me.

Fun times.

So, as per school rules, I told her about my accommodation and that I may struggle with this course. In top of that I asked for some suggestions.

Her response

OH, just give it a try

Ok just let me jump on that 🙃

Now, there is nothing wrong with this. I whole heartedly stand by the notion of trying something before deciding if you can do it or not. Here’s the stitch though, I did try. I try every day of my life to be normal enough to stand in front of a group of people and state my thoughts and feelings. There are days when I can barely look my therapist in the eyes because I assume that she will judge me and I can not bear if it she does. I…I do try but there are days when trying gets me nowhere. So unless she is willing to give me a few accommodations I will fail. And lo and behold…I am.

That aside, I am doing well I guess.

I moved. My daughter and I got a bigger apartment and she is loving it. We have a gated patio that is fairly large and she has big plans for it. Plans I am just to flabbergasted to say but I will give a hint, it involves a shit ton of chalk.

Blessings to you all!

Just a child

I miss the mornings when I got to lay in bed with you.

The way your curled around me and grabbed so delicately at my hand

You do not know how afraid I was, that I would break you

I knew you weren’t fragile but I still saw you as unreal.

That by taking my eye of you, you would just disappear

I was afraid. Yet you loved to cuddle close

Would out your head near my chest and let out the biggest fuss if I moved

I was a weak and yet… to you…I was home

I can see her

I can see her body floating as I close my eyes. I can see her hurting in every way imaginable as I stand by unable to do a thing. Sometimes I am dying and sometimes I am not. Either way I am always out of reach. I put my hand towards her, grasping, for just a touch. But I never make it, not in time anyways. I watch the light fade from her eyes. I watch as her beautiful smile twist into a look of pain.

This is my everyday nightmare.

As I close my eyes I see her dying. I see her suffering in unimaginable ways. I can’t do anything but watch. Either dead or alive I am always reaching for her.

This is my everyday. When I try to talk to people about it they just call me paranoid or don’t understand.

I can’t sleep unless she is beside me but there are days when that makes it worse. I take every pill the doctor gives me. Say my prayers before bed. Yet nothing is working.

I can see her hurting and I can’t make it stop.

Every day my daughter dies and I know it is all my fault.

Ask and answer

I often ask myself silly questions I would not dare bring up to anyone else.

Thing that make me blush or smile. Things that make me cry awhile.

I ask myself these things because they help me feel alive.

For awhile I have the will to survive.

What kind of future will she have?

Will I be there or will I be dead?

How can I make her happy?

How will she feel if I hold her on my lap, even when she is 20?

I ask myself because I can.

I ask myself so that I may continue till the end.

Letters to a Father

I can no longer remember your face.

When I was younger you where there. Not always there but a little thought in the back of my mind. I HATED how you came around when you felt like it. I know you told me it was my moms fault you weren’t constant, but till this day I do not believe that to be fact.

Just like you said how you number never changed, nor did my grandmothers, you could have called her any day. Found out where we where and took us away. Do you know how much pain we went through?

No, I guess not since you never bothered with us. Just made excuse after excuse.

Dear Dad , I do not remember you. I do bot remember your voice, your smile, your eyes. I Do remember your anger and your lies.

I guess it is my fault I hold on to such a grudge but I made the mistakes of my mother and laid with someone I didn’t love.

Now I have a daughters whose father she don’t know. She don’t know his face, his eyes, the way he smiles over silly things. No all she remembers is the pain of him never being around.

Broken promise after promise.

Sounds familiar to me now.

Dear Dad, I hate you.

But I guess you knew that.

Or maybe you didn’t because you delude yourself into thinking I was never created. I am just a figment of your demented imagination.

Do you know my favorite color or my favorite song? Do you remember my best friends name or what first made us get along? I told you all this a million times but did you listen?

I wish you had left me spattered on the bed sheets but then I wouldn’t have my baby girl.

Dear Fuckbutt, I despise you.

How dare you do her like he do. She deserves so much better than some well wishes. She fucking deserves her fathers kisses. I do not need no imagined truths. Tell her what you post online, don’t you know she needs you???

Wrote a letter to my father but inside I meant you.

Heaven on earth

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I am not someone who gives in easily.
I think to much so it takes awhile for me to decide the correct path. I have to reaserch. Find out what option is best for me and only then can I make a move.
Yet when it comes to dying I never really put too much effort into staying alive. I had always felt like dying was the best option. Was the only path I could take that would bring me closer to peace.
It wasn’t till recently that it all changed. That I realized that although my life can be utter shit that I had a purpose. That I was meant to be here even if I was to blind to see that reason.

I am a mom of a beautiful little girl. She wouldn’t be here if I died. I work with animals and while someone else could do this job I know that they love me. That these animals are happy being around me just as much as my baby girl is.
I still want to die sometimes. I still look forward to that eternal sleep but I have a reason to go on now.
I have someone watching me. I have someone who hold me in their arms and tells me they love me every chance they get. Who ask for hugs and kisses. Who makes up excuses to sit in my lap. I have a daughter. I have a job..I have a purpose.
I may not fully understand the meaning of heaven..but right now..I see heaven in her eyes.
My sunshine who makes even the darkest tameable.

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Nocha Daisey age 5 months