How does one grapple,
With the overwhelming, pounding,
It comes like a wave at high tide,
Sweeping the loose ground,
Out from underneath you
Already unstable mind
Now a ball of yarn
Tangled and unraveled
The way back to
All put together
Is like an ocean voyage
With a forgotten map
The vessel bobbing lost
Only visions of what
It could be like
As lifeboats of hope to cling to
The taste of it all
Like a mouthful of sea
The bitter salt, the bitter panic
Unable to spit it out
Stinging the corner of eyes
“You have something wrong with you,” His voice sounded concerned and frustrated. Though I’ll have to give my boyfriend credit, no matter how upset he got, he never raised his voice. One of the most patient individuals I know.
“You either need to go to the hospital or call a doctor for help. This can’t continue. Somethings not right with you, you’re up and then you’re down.”
I shrugged, unconcerned by his words, turning back to my painting. A hospital sounded awfully dramatic (says the one who overdosed almost exactly a year ago). Eh, I didn’t need help. He was…
I barely remember my first time riding a horse. One thing I remember crystal clear is when I finally achieved that feeling of unbridled freedom as my horse and I flew for the first time together. Since that first initial beginning, I have come far in my horse riding skills. I will never forget that first memory of the feeling of being overwhelmingly small when I was sitting on top of that powerful beast. It felt like sitting on top of the world and seeing the world in a whole new view. …
I don’t understand the ‘Karen' labeling. Maybe it’s because my mother is a Karen. Actually she’s a Karin, small technicality.
Albeit, I don’t always like or agree with her. As her daughter it’s my right to get annoyed, with eyes rolling saying shortly, “Karin.” Sometimes it’s in unison with my equally annoyed sisters.
Yet when a stranger shortly tells another stranger, “Stop being a Karen.”
It hits different. I’m not one to get easily offended. Ask any of my friends they’ll tell you it’s hard to offend me. …
(Author’s Note: Much of this story was told to me by friends and family. I keep a daily journal and also pulled memories out of that. This time for me is still quite fuzzy, and I wrote this as a therapeutic way to process and piece together everything. I want to share to help others feel less alone.)
I was living on my own for the first time in Banner Elk in an old farmhouse renovated into four apartments. I had just gotten back from Minnesota. It was a spacious apartment that varied from being immaculately cleaned and borderline disgusting…
We were sitting in a hotel room in St. Louis; my mom is on the phone with tears streaming down her face. She hangs up and dials another number and starts asking a bunch of questions about flights. Then the phone is lying silently on the table. Her voice is desperate as she begs my father to let her buy a 750 dollar, one-way flight back home. His head his shaking, as he tells her, “That’s stupid. It’s just a dog.”
My mom has the phone to her ear again, her hand motions my sister and me over…
I attended a very unique college for multiple reasons. One it is the highest college on the East Coast, as the joke went, in more ways than one. It is also the only college on the East Coast that had a wildlife center on campus as part of the program. Instead of classes, we attended shifts.
The college was set in a sleepy rural tourist town in the Appalachian Mountains. December in Banner Elk was akin to living in a magical snow globe when everything was blanketed in snow. The world was magical looking and I was one semester away…
The cracks in my mental health start to show.
I’m standing in Verizon, completely panicking. I had just bought this phone two months earlier after I gracefully dropped mine into a river. My tank is empty, I can’t find my debit card, and I have $31.27 to my name. Did I also mention that my home and the nearest family member were roughly 1,600 miles away?
Verizon couldn’t fix my phone and I had already used my warranty. Dispersed back onto the streets of a strange city I felt vulnerable. I had stayed the night in St. Paul with one…
Addicted to watercolors, advocating for mental health, animals, and living in the mountains!