Third day of Nightmares

I think I am infected

Distracted from a reality that I can’t see

Little visions dancing in my head

Forming solid thoughts about her dead

I can see her body

In this reality so terrifying

I can see her crying

Screaming for me to come save her

But I am to far away

Out of reach my soul is mistaken

Its breaking from this infectious disease

That is eating away at me

Everytime I close my eyes I can see her

Dead as the night that surrounds

These little visions are beyond lethal

And I need her, when I am sleeping

I hold her to my chest

I listen to her every breath

Her heartbeat a drug I can’t give up yet

I am infected

By a reality that can not be

A dream so terrifying

That I can not sleep

Today’s nightmare

The demons in my head won’t let me say goodbye yet.

As I lay here trying to sleep I can see her vividly. Her poor little broken body. I can see the message and hear the calls of people who never cared to check on her when she was alive. How the weep for her, begging for one last chance to do nothing I guess. I hate them more than I hate the idea of her being gone. My little girl is gone, at least that is what my brain is telling me. I can see her dying so clearly. See her little casket covered in pink roses with pretty purple ribbon. Her body lays so perfectly and yet it is their lies that haunt me.

Maybe it is because I am used to seeing her die. I often dream of the day when my little girl will leave me. How cruel this world can be and how easily it can try to take her away. I see it almost every day. Maybe something is wrong with me but I think I am to used to being insane that it is downright comforting.

My daughter is ok. She is sleeping her bed. Her pretty bow lips forming smiles when I kiss her cheek. Family and friends may not call but she is happy and ok. All will be ok.

Five glorious years

Today my daughter got into trouble. Nothing major but I can tell that it left a stain on the day. She wouldn’t listen so I yelled. After that moment she refused to talk to me. Even after I apologized and asked for her forgiveness she did not speak. Only later did she tell me that I hurt her feeling.

My daughter is five.

I should have more respect for this tiny human and yet. I think I put to much on her shoulders. I think I expect to much and get angry. She isn’t the best listener. She gets overly excited about pretty much everything. But that does not deserve my anger no matter how frustrating it can be at times.

My daughter is five.

I feel like such a monster. I told her so. I told her how I did not wish to hurt her. I apologized and asked for forgivenesd but…I also told her that it was ok. She did not have to accept my sorry. She did not even have to forgive me. What I said, what I did, left a stain on our day. I would do anything to go back and change what I did.

My daughter is only five.

And yet she lives her life with a mother who struggles with mental illness. She knows emotions like other children know candy and shopping sprees. She can tell you safety plans for every occasion and exactly what it means when mommy can’t seem to sleep.

Yet she tells me I am the best mommy ever. That she loves me no matter what. That she is proud of me. She looks forward to my hugs. She smiles so brightly when I tell her how I feel…even on the bad days. I am so proud of her and I tell her. I tell her all the time. I may be a monster but in her eyes I am worth it. In my eyes she is a reason.

I did it

Looking back now I am not sure how I reached this point. I think apart of me is scared that this will all end up being a dream. She won’t be here sleeping next to me. Instead I will be in am empty room. In a house filled to the room with depression and regret. I would possibly…I may even be dead.

But I did it. And looking at her. I can’t help but be afraid. I do not think I am enough. But in the end. Even that fear is worth it.

I love you my sunshine.

Healing vibes.

Share a story that has hurt you.

Something that ripped you to tiny piece and made it as though you didn’t not think you would survive.

Share that story, leave out no details, because I have a feeling this will help you heal.

Realize how much you have conqured.

The painful memories you can’t bear to hold.

Just let them go.

Share me a story if your deepest fear. Tell it all and leave out no details.

We need to see we are not alone.

Sleep aid

My daughter is crying in the other room

But I am to scared to go get her

I am afraid of what I will see

A giant figure standing over her

Caressing her whimpers

I am not strong enough to fight it

So I hide

My daughter is crying in her room

But I am to afraid to save her

I know what is standing there

A figure made of bad dreams

Touching her face as she shakes and whispers

A/N when my daughter was a newborn I was often afraid that something would happen to her. I remember watching all these videos about kids dying from SIDs or some other illness. I would constantly wake up and check on her. Doing the finger under the nose check just to make sure she was still breathing.

As she aged I started to have other fears. As I would open her bedroom door to check on her I would suddenly think that someone is standing there waiting.

They wouldn’t harm us but they would sit there. To this very day, and I do mean very, I am still afraid to go and check on her. I have to work myself up to it. I often hear her when she wakes up but I do not move until she comes to my door asking to come in. I stay silent… I know this cowardly but the person in my head is often one who loves her and hates me. To it I am a monster and she must be protected.

I am afraid but I know she will be forever safe.

Once I kissed

I don’t like kissing

It’s to intimate

To close

To

Gross

Everything about

Leaves me in hives

Eyes closed

Mouth opened wide

Nope

Sorry

I would rather die

But

Apart of me

A small part of me

Wishes it wasn’t that way

Kisses

Are not a curse

Used to hurt

To force

Love and commit

Meant to secure

To reward

Blushing brides and valued whores

Kissing isn’t meant

To be painful

A reminder of bad times

A punishment for false crimes

I don’t like kissing

To intimate

To close

To

Gross

To much of

A false show of commit

Meant to reward

At least

That is what they tell good little girls