Tucson

Sep. 17th, 2017 02:33 pm
zetasyanthis: (Default)
I'm writing this as mostly a status update, or maybe just a prompt to get myself to write. Still, it feels good to share a little bit of the love I've felt this weekend.
 
I traveled to Tucson this weekend to see Dakota, and it was like she'd never left. Between her, the puppy, and the kitties, there was a constant presence of warm, soft love, and I find myself reaching for it now, even though I'm not even home yet. (I'm writing this while on layover in LAX.) It was a pretty special weekend, and I'm sad to be leaving it behind. I'm hopeful that there'll be more in the future, though, as good god do I love her so fucking much. >.<
 
Anyways (which seems a weird word to use, but I need something to shift topics with), I finally finished the His Dark Materials trilogy this weekend. Really weird series, but I really liked it, even though I was super confused at the time. I don't know what to make of it, but I guess it was something, because I cried like hell at the end of all three books. >.< I think I need some time to let that one sit, and then maybe one day I'll be strong enough to read it again. (It cracked something deep inside.)
 
But yeah... love and heartbreak and holding someone you love, walking away again and crying and wishing and crying into a pillow... Those are what makes us real, and what makes life worth living. And I love you, Dakota. I love you so damned much.
 
I don't really know where I was going with this one, so I suppose I'll just end here. No idea if I meant to put something else in, but this seems okay for now. And maybe it is okay.
 
I love you, spazz, with every bit of me.

Zeta

Jun. 20th, 2017 10:18 pm
zetasyanthis: (Default)
I wrote this sort of accidentally, but my heart spoke, and I will always listen.

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My name... is Zeta.
I'm not the same as most.
I've always been a little bit... /different/.
I've always been a little bit... /strange/.
Nobody knows what to make of me, least of all myself,
and nobody knows how I die.
 
<a pause>
 
Many have tried to slash my throat,
to bleed me dry as bone.
 
Many have pierced, ripped out their spears
as I but scream and moan.
 
Many have come to hear my cries,
to take their bloody turn.
 
Many have come to try to end this dragon
who will not burn.
 
My scars, beyond those mortal men
ever had right to cast,
have yet not hardened my dark heart.
My light in it holds fast.
 
I know they come because they fear,
they fear the wrath they hold,
the hate, disgust, they hold for me
but which rips /their/ dark hearts cold.
 
I know their pain; I've felt it too.
I've lived as they do now,
And though they ever strike at me
I've lived and live through /all/.
 
<a pause>
 
Some call me a sorceress,
Some call me a mage.
Whoever I am... /Whatever/ I am, I chose the road I walk.
 
I have chosen to heal,
to die as I see fit,
and so I stand,
a silent beacon against the night,
a candle held... and lit.
 
<fin>

Nero

May. 7th, 2017 05:26 pm
zetasyanthis: (Default)
CW: Violence, Anxiety, Depression
 
Time for another weird one. (Feel free to blame The History of Rome podcast, which I've been re-listening to over the last week. Or, if you want to go meta, feel free to blame my anxiety, which has been spinning out of control the last couple weeks and demanding constant unhealthy input leading to re-listening to The History of Rome podcast?) Anyways, here's a weird one. It's going to be a mix of my typical status blogs, and a bit of unexpected empathy yet again. Think something in the vein of Orlando.
 
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
 
Anxiety has been beating the fuck out of me lately. >.< I've had a few good days, but quite a lot more bad ones, and even though I'm making major progress in my therapy as of late, I'm just about ready to collapse. >.< From shame about my sexuality and very identity to depression that won't let me feel anything at all in the last two days, it just keeps coming. It feels like I'm being physically hammered on, as though someone is trying to break me with iron when they couldn't break me with tears. >.<
 
(Author's note: Yes, I am getting better, but it just doesn't feel like it right now. >.<)
 
Therapy on Thursday this week was particularly bad, and I was actually unable to get unstuck when we went searching through my past. (My therapist performs EMDR, meaning we go back and reprocess things, then return to the present.) In many ways, I'm still stuck there today, and it doesn't feel very good. >.< [VIOLENCE WARNING] I'm still lying there bleeding on the cold concrete floor, crying in a pool of my own blood and vomit, stab wounds oozing from my back, unable to do anything else but die. I'm still freezing, unable to see past the pain and tears, everything so, so dark. >.<
 
And so when I found an unexpected feeling of empathy yesterday, it really really shocked me. Because I wasn't the only one hurt, pressed into a life I only ever hated, and that ripped my soul apart. I wasn't the only one who wished she could hide from all the world, her music the only thing that kept her going. And you know what? I'd have made a terrible emperor too.
 
I feel very much like a dragon who's had her wings ripped off, and is bleeding out despite her best attempts. And it *hurts*. >.<
 
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
 
(Author's note: It feels out of place putting this here, but I know I'll be asked if I don't say. No, as far as I can recall, I've never been physically abused, but apparently that doesn't stop my dreams from ripping me apart. >.<)

Shaking

Mar. 25th, 2017 06:15 pm
zetasyanthis: (Default)
(CW: Anxiety, Depression)
 
Been having a real shit couple of weeks, mental health wise. I've started to feel my anxiety more viscerally than before, rather than it just being something that influenced my actions and caused me paralysis. I suppose that's progress of a sort, but it hurts *so much*. >.<
 
Some of this is burnout, because some things at work have come to a bit of a head as of late. Though I was asked, as opposed to my last job, I'm still on the hook for far too much at the moment, and it's breaking me down. There's a ton of reasons for that, but I need to somehow have a conversation with my boss about trimming down my role. Needless today, I'm scared as fuck to have that talk, and the fact that my boss is a friend makes it even harder. >.<
 
But there's a lot more to it than that. I haven't been feeling myself in weeks, and apparently haven't really been listening to music for a couple months. I knew I hadn't been listening a lot lately, but when Dakota told me it was months, I was honestly shocked. I can't even remember the last time I felt this disconnected from it. >.< Considering that music is probably the main reason I'm even alive to write this, that's not a good sign. >.<
 
It feels stupid that I feel like this right now, because I've made so much positive progress as of late. My name change is more or less done (just the passport left). I've written more than ever before, and read so much more, too. Even my finances are finally recovering (slowly, but thanks to a now-healthy cat and a fantastic car mechanic). I even bought a portable A/C unit so I don't roast this summer, something I desperately wished for last year. >.<
 
But when you can't even feel safe and warm at home, cuddled up with your kitty in your arms, something's really, really wrong. >.< When your gaze just slides off, without really registering the joy and happiness in your puppy's eyes, something's *horribly* wrong. >.< And when you feel like crawling back into bed and just shaking until you die...  >.<
 
I don't know what's wrong with me right now, but I'm going to have to start taking drastic measures. The last time I felt happy and safe was back when my phone broke and I was "stuck in the 90s", having cut myself off from my laptop that same week. Pretty sure I'm going to have to do that again. >.< Hopefully the lack of insane amounts of input will help. >.<
 
Anyways, suffice to say that I have been having a horrible time as of late. Guess it shows a little in the fact that I'm at Wicked Grounds as I write this, because goodness knows it's been a long time since I wrote a ripped-open journal here. >.<
 
Anyways, I just wish I could wake up one morning refreshed. That I could have one good day to put myself back together. I hope it doesn't wait too long. >.<

Bloodstains

Mar. 5th, 2017 02:24 pm
zetasyanthis: (Default)
The rage within that I now feel
compels me now to write,
to share a vision, bloody red,
of your last desperate night.
 
The rage within that rises strong
that rips throughout my heart,
it sings the song of pain and weight
and rips my mind apart.
 
The anger, despair, knife's edge deep
lodged deep within my heart
compels me now to put pen to
this most accursed art.
 
For I now write to share my pain
to spread my hate and rage
to shatter walls and countries vast
with bloody, ruined page.
 
And so I say, to you who chose
to you who chose this path
to you who hatred chose and mocked
you will now feel my wrath.
 
And when these words are done at last
you will not then survive
the blasted hulk of your rent bones
will shatter, and divide.
 
For now I summon wrath and hate
to make my message clear;
I summon futures now destroyed
and children, raised in fear.
 
I summon furies of the storm
and monsters dwelling deep
and now I sick them all on you
to haunt your broken sleep.
 
I summon demons, horned and black
to scar your heart as mine
until you shake and scream and cry
and drown yourself in brine.
 
I summon children who you've killed,
or who you've forced to live
abandoned, bereft, starving husks
who nothing would you give.
 
I summon your own futures now
and those of your own sons
of darkened dreams and lost last hopes
that you've at last undone.
 
I summon those who you have pushed
beyond their mortal coil
those who you chose to hurt yet more
and in whose name I toil.
 
You have no future, shining fast,
atop this slope of blood,
for nothing you have built will last
I summon now the flood.
 
The fear you feel, the rage you hate
that pierces deep inside
I look straight, deep into your eyes
and now the flames arise.
 
In front of you the flames reveal
the destruction of lives,
the children, listless, learned not,
your symphony of lies.
 
I sear your eyes with those you've killed,
with what you have have now wrought,
the hearts you've torn and ripped with glee
and those you've left to rot.
 
I compel you to hold my gaze,
the fire in my eyes
a window into deepest pain
reflected in your skies.
 
I slaughter you with your own mind;
it terror's truest form,
a demon, dark and glistening
a screaming, tearing swarm.
 
A future, black, I show you now
with torn and blackened skies
with storms unending and at last
your own children's death cries.
 
And when you see what future holds
what hearts you have destroyed
and when you see your blood so cold
your soul will be devoid.
 
I show you their hearts full of pain
at what you have now done
and I commend you now to death.
Begone, you foul one.

Kvothe

Feb. 26th, 2017 09:25 am
zetasyanthis: (Default)
CW: Mental damage, mentions of suicide.
 
It's been a while since I've written a journal, and it hasn't really been much fun. Some good things have happened, some bad ones, and I'm pretty sure I've been hurting myself by not working some of this out on paper. This is my attempt to deal with some of that.
 
You're probably wondering about the title of the journal, and I should probably try to make some sense of that.
 
I recently read a couple books that have kicked me a bit out of sorts. The Name of the Wind, The Slow Regard of Silent Things, and The Wise Man's Fear devastated me in a way I never expected. There's... a lot of pain in those books, and there's a lot of pain in my heart, and I don't know how to deal with it either. There are a lot of days where I just want to curl up and die.
 
I want to cry, and shake, and cry and hide... to disappear completely. I want my mind to stop grinding against itself like shattered glass, screaming breaking noises, and screeching noises, and screaming and screaming and screaming until I finally die. I fight insanity *every* *single* *day*, the loss of self and heart and home that seems to be ever stronger. I hold death itself at bay with fear and force of will, and fear the loss of myself far, far more than that of my body. And yet, I know what the grip of insanity feels like, and it would kill me in an instant.
 
I just want to stop being ripped apart inside. I want to be able to function as a normal human being. I want safety, and sanity, and home and love and quiet. I want to be able to listen to music without it having to be a shield against my fear. I want to be able to feel my cat's love, and my girlfriend's, and that of all those who try to tell me they care. I want to stop being broken inside, and I want to cry. >.<
zetasyanthis: (Default)
While discussing time off requests (related to my name change) with my boss today, he kind of stared at me and asked if all of this was really worth it. I... didn't know how to answer him, how to truly communicate what it means or how important it is. And I know he didn't mean to injure me by asking, but I've been hurting pretty badly since he asked. Hopefully, this can help.
 
--------------------
 
Yes it really matters.
Yes, it hurts inside.
Yes, to all the fees and care
to heal my broken mind.
 
Yes, to doctor's visits.
Yes, to DMV.
Yes, to lines unending,
so at last I can be.
 
Yes, I say, or tell myself,
the one who hurts inside,
the tortured, wounded little girl
who's barely still alive.
 
Yes, to tears unending.
to terror, shaking, cold.
Yes, I'm terrified of this,
but my heartstrings must hold.
 
I don't know how, but I must try
to live with what I have
to give myself a chance at life
as I now truly am.
 
Mere weeks ago, a mem'ry came,
myself, at four years old.
My heart was broken even then,
I could not fit the mold.
 
I did not know for longest time
how to describe my pain
or even what transgender was
my hurt had not a name.
 
Anxiety, in spades, you see,
conspired me to grip
with daggers deep within my heart
and threat that they would rip.
 
And so it took a thousand days,
and even more besides,
before I trusted anyone
and let them see inside.
 
I trusted you; I trust you now;
I trust you with my life;
for though you may not understand,
others would my throat knife.
 
I know it's hard to understand.
I know it makes no sense.
But know the changes you see now
are just to match the rest.
 
The part of me that hides in fear
on almost every day,
now risks her heart to open
and to attempt to say,
 
"It's not that I'm becoming.
It's that I've always been.
And every step that helps affirm
helps my mind learn again."
zetasyanthis: (Default)
Defeat is not surrender,
nor is darkness light.
Though pain may overwhelm us
it cannot stop our bright.
 
Defeat is not surrender,
nor is the battle lost.
 
Defeat is not surrender,
though we have paid great cost.
 
For in our hearts a forest grows,
its branches strong and green,
and our forests will grow again
though all we hear is keen.
 
It seems to drown out all we know.
It seems to black out light.
But if you listen carefully,
your heart will guide you right.
 
Much pain endured, many hearts lost
we've hurt and we've despaired,
but we are stronger than you know.
We wear the heroes' pale.
 
Music, as strong as candlelight
that lights until the dawn
will honor and will shine with you
till all your fears are gone.
 
And if you listen closely,
and if you listen close,
Music will teach you secrets,
the language magic spoke.
 
That language that we long thought dead
that death and pain had beat
is not something that can be killed
and it still sings as sweet.
 
As sweet as music ever was
and once again shall be
you must now listen - careful, close -
to what it says, I plea.
 
For we did lose the hearts and minds
of those we thought our friends
and if we hope for peace to come
them we must understand.
 
I know I ask a thing absurd
a thing that rhymes with pain
but if you want a kinder world
you must not now abstain.
 
But do not compromise too much
or let the pain drown out
the secret words of dreaming light
your forest must still sprout.
 
For we must hold the line -
strong, true -
that they would see us yield
that they would trample in the dirt
and vicious power wield.
 
We must not fear to hold the line
against those who seek cold
unflinching power, reckonings,
vendettas grim and old.
 
And we must not fear to hold firm
against those who don't think
who put some power's word above
those they push to the brink.
 
For those you love,
and those who you like,
and those who you hope love you,
whose dreams are made of candle light,
whose forests live in you,
they need you now.
They need you strong.
They need to hold your hand
as they stand with you and with me
to save our broken land.
zetasyanthis: (Default)
I don't know how to shine with joy.
I don't know how to weep.
I don't know how to holiday.
All joy at last seems cheap.

I don't know how to dance and laugh.
I don't know how to cry.
I don't know how to bear this pain,
and I fear that I'll die.

I don't know what family should mean
I don't know what joy lies
in arms of those that should love me
and in those bonds that tie.

My heart, you see, is broken now
as broken as it has been
and I do not know how to heal
the wounds that just won't mend.

I don't know how to fill the hole
or how to find the warmth
that in my distant mem'ry calls
when I still had self worth.

In those days I knew safety.
In those days I knew warmth.
In those days I knew fireplace
and tree beside the hearth.

I use to light that tree you see.
I use to light it all.
From tiny spiral deep within
to star above it all.

But somewhere along that long way
I lost something not found.
And mind, my mind, shattered at last
as though it fell to ground.

I don't know when the fear blew up
I don't know why I can't
seem to escape this curse of mine
with deepest heart-felt chant.

I found a Mawr, I found a wolf,
who turned out to be dragon.
And yet in my deep heart of hearts
my heart is rent by canyon.

I miss a fam'ly that I have,
but that I've never felt.
I miss that which I should have had
and that my fear they'd melt.

But I don't know how to advance
in face of pain I feel.
I just want my fam'ly at last
to really feel real. >.<
zetasyanthis: (Default)
I haven't been taking care of myself again, and now I'm paying the price. Been missing my meds here and there, letting other things like work become more important than self-care. (Note: not a lot of misses, but more than I should have.)

And so I'm pretty messed up.

The damned thing is that I usually can't tell immediately, or even quickly, when I've gone off the rails. It takes a while for my brain to clue in that something is wrong. And something is wrong today. Something was wrong yesterday, too, which is why I've forced myself to stop today when I'm supposed to be working. And stopping is really, really hard. The last two days, I've spent, respectively, ~14 and ~10 hours working, way too many hours in too short a period of time. I've been hyper-focused on it, and even now my brain is chewing on what I was working on in the background, refusing to stop. I justified that time, saying that I wanted to learn what I was working on, but it was still far too much.

When my brain gets like this, stopping is really, really hard. I could literally kick my VM back on, or boot up my work laptop and work until I literally self-destruct, much like I did around June, 2015. If I gave in, I'd work until I cried and shook and shattered, crying into my pillow for my terrible shattered mind.

And so, I'm trying not to get there. I'm trying, as hard as I can, to stop that cycle.

I already took a couple of steps today to take care of myself, but I'm not quite sure how not to shake right now. I'm trying to sit here in Starbucks until I can relax, but it almost seems like I need to go take melatonin and crash out to sleep. (I'm trying not to do that, too, since messing up my sleep schedule will make things even worse.)

And so, I sit here, hurting. >.<

Fall

Dec. 12th, 2016 09:42 pm
zetasyanthis: (Default)
Fall of city, fall of heart,
fall of those we trusted,
fall of hope and candlelight,
and blasted hellscapes, rusted

fall of light, and fall of life
and fall of dust and heartbeats,
the world watches and pretends
they cannot see us deletes.

For that is what we would become
would not with dear time's passing
the world know we fought and bled,
and at the last, and died gasping.

We sought to stand as you have claimed
neighbor helping neighbor
but some amongst us with their hate
pushed you away, our savior.

And still we stand, now at the last,
white helmets far from gleaming
hoping against hope these poor souls
may one day 'member, dreaming

that though we lost and though we died
and though the world now darkened
these souls may dream of candlelight
and too kinship, then, hearken.

These tiny souls, these innocents,
the bullets closing in
cannot begin to understand
my weeping violin.

The choking dust is closer now,
air heavy, harsh with gas.
Barrel bombs, mortars, missile strikes
are sure to be our last.

But while the blue sky lives somewhere
somewhere trees are green
I'll raise music to candlelight
and with my strings, now keen.

For we will not escape this fate,
the shelling, far too rough,
our hopes and dreams, now bleeding out
are made of kinder stuff.

Remember us, these children here,
when we are dead and gone.
Remember dreams of candlelight.
Remember... comes the dawn.
zetasyanthis: (Default)
Magics, magics, come to me.
Come and stop this dark.
You are needed now, now *here*
to shield and heal the heart.

Come and shimmer 'long bows of glass,
through deep stone entomb-ed vaults,
come shimmer strong and shine with light,
and this darkness now halt.

You see my wounds, you see my blood,
you see my heart ripped open,
and yet you see not where it seems
hope's light is still now woven.

A knife may in my deep-heart be,
but if you think that mortal,
you know not what dragon you face,
"I will heal," I chortle.

Now, you who stood and you who saw
and you who still saw nothing
you who did not care (did not know!),
can you still tell me "nothing?".

And you who did... you who chose dark
I extend hands towards you.
I seek the peace within your heart
that you long sought to undo.

I seek the cage within your chest,
the bars that lock your heart.
I seek them now with scalpel sharp,
and I well know my art.

The pain of others you have seen,
and yet you have avoided,
the pain that haunts their very eyes
will not by you be voided.

You will now look. You will now see,
the light behind that pain.
And pain you'll at last recognize,
to all our future gain.

For empathy is stronger still
than boundaries you construct.
Those borders, walls, and fortresses,
I will now make destruct.

With scalpel sharp, with shining blade,
woven with hope's own light,
I'll plunge this deep into your heart
where you are locked in night.

That cage you built, that made you "strong,"
I will now see destroyed.
This shimmering dark shadow-light,
reduces men to boys.

But I will not your heart now harm
though you boundaries lay shattered,
I stem the bleeding, hold the light,
your injuries... so tattered.

I know not if you'll now survive,
now that you can now see.
I only know that on future nights
I'll carry you with me.

I raise my eyes to see yet more,
to see you standing 'fore me.
Another mind, another heart
wounded at least, but now free.

You sought to harm, you sought to hide
you sought to keep away
the very thing that I now bring,
and it comes home to stay.
zetasyanthis: (Default)
All my life, I have feared the power of words, the emotions and actions they can induce. I have feared my words, what I might do if I ever got the chance to bloom and live as I desired, what secret hate could twist what I would write. I am terrified that somewhere within my heart lies violence, unchecked, an anger that would burn all it touches.

I bring this up, not to distract from the topic at hand, but to acknowledge the force that has kept, and sometimes still keeps, me from writing. I bring it up because it is necessary to speak about, to confront, and to heal, something I do not yet know how to do. And I bring it up because mercy begs me to do it, as words have power far beyond our own.

I had a pretty bad week this week, between the anxiety and crushing sadness that felt like a ten-ton weight upon my chest. Yes, I accomplished much in spite of that, but it all felt hollow, and nothing against what is coming. And so I spoke with my therapist about my pain on Thursday night, trying to understand how to cope and yet move on. This is the story of that discussion, and so much more.

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I don't remember all the details of what we spoke of, of exactly how I felt that night. I do feel the echoes of hollowness even now, though, and I feel a need to stand in my defense. (Editors note: Not against you, but against the depression and sadness that would crush me to death.)

One of the topics we talked about was my poetry, and levels of discomfort. Zoe suggested that a 6 on a scale of 10 was about right for maximum discomfort while being kicked into action, and that too much more would reduce that effectiveness too much. (I figure I'm sitting around a 7 as I write this.) Her going in position was that too much emotional intensity, too much pain, would just cause complete collapse, and I have to admit she's right. The line between being informed and being able to function is a difficult one to walk, and I'm usually on the wrong side of that line. Empathy is *so* *important*, but it's destroying me, and I have to find a way to push it down so I can help.

Why is it destroying me? Because this current world has pain on every side, and I've known all of them. I know what it means to feel alone and abandoned, to feel as though the world is being torn asunder. I know what it means to believe, as Mike Pence does, to an absolute and uncompromising level. I know what it feels like to propagate that discrimination, something I am deeply ashamed of. And I know what it feels like to hurt, or be hurt, by those you love.

I know the pain on every side, and it is killing me.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

How am I fighting this?

The only way I know how. I'm fighing this with words, with happiness, and butterfly wings. I learned Thursday that writing, while leaving me exhausted, actually helps me gain spoons back, and is the honest-to-goodness source of the fire that I bring into everyday life. I need to write... to live.

So let's talk about levels of discomfort, and let me ask you a question, if I may. It's the same one I asked Zoe.

On a scale of 1-10, what is the maximum emotional intensity level my writing has induced in you? And what level do you think I was at when I wrote it?

By way of explanation, I ask because I want to know where about I am. Zoe and I disagreed initially on what level is sometimes required, but I responded by referring to the actual target of my words. I seek to strike the cages around our hearts, those things that would prevent us from healing, or helping others. I seek to break them, to strike so surgically that the wound is utterly mortal. And I seek them with all the violence at my command. I seek a 10, to change the worlds of those within its resonance.

And yet, I must remember mercy.

Nightmare

Dec. 8th, 2016 12:25 am
zetasyanthis: (Default)
I promised myself I'd write this today, and having failed to do so so far, I just remembered right before going to bed.

I had a hell of a nightmare this morning, and I think I need to write it down.

I can't remember exactly why, but I apparently travelled home to may parent's house for the holidays, staying in my old room, or maybe my brother's. My parents were not open-minded. The whole situation was *extremely* tense, with awkward non-acknowledgements, tense dinner situations, and everything just as miserable as I remember it. I was absolutely terrified the entire time, freaking out about why I'd come, why I'd stayed there of all places, and what I could do to escape. I'd do anything to escape.

I remember my father raging, his hands trembling as he forcefully ate, as though the steak in front of him was the cause of his offense... as though if he buried himself in it enough, I wouldn't be there anymore. I remember that fear. That same scene played out the night I told him, the night I ran, virtually in terror, from his car back to my room. I remember my heart pounding as I slammed the deadbolt, his imagined footsteps in my heart. I remember crying. >.<

If you ever have any children of your own, please... please love them. >.< And be gentle in that love. >.<

Tired

Nov. 13th, 2016 01:58 pm
zetasyanthis: (Default)
As you might guess from the title, I've not really recovered from the last week, or even the weeks leading up to it. It still feels like a dream I don't know how to wake up from, a knife lodged deep within my heart.

I don't know how it came to this.

Intellectually, I do, but emotionally, it hurts too much to think about. To think of those we've already lost, those we will lose, and all the pain and suffering this has already caused. The price we pay for this mistake is not just in property. Not even just in lives. The price we will pay is the heart-breaking of an entire generation.

My heart is already broken. I don't know what to do. I know what I should do, what avenues there are to help comfort and fight against what is and white will be, but it hurts so much I can't even move, hurts so much I can barely get out of bed in the mornings. It is as though I have an anchor chained to a bolt embedded in my heart, and I have not the strength to remove it.

I keep trying to piece it back together,
how such a terrible thing could be,
but my heart just keeps on bleeding,
hope draining out of me.

I know I need to fight this.
I know I need to stand,
but I'm not sure if I could cry
without a helping hand.

This heart-pain is the deepest
that I have ever felt
that dark and cold and terrible
pain that will not let me rest.
zetasyanthis: (Default)
Finally cried last night, and boy did I cry a lot. I know I've talked about tears before, after Kubo, and after a few other small moments here and there. Up until now, though, I haven't cried tears for me. I've cried situationally, cried for what I saw and what it made me feel, but never for myself. Never.

Last night, I cried, and it hit my like a truck. Wandering though files on my server, I found first AMV Hell, and then the Read or Die OVA, something I've watched many times before. Last night, though, it finally cracked me.

I've seen it before and laughed at the exploits of "The Paper!" and the trouble the rest of the crew goes to to keep her alive. I've watched a story of pain and seen the terrifying power of kindness, a story that breaks the world. And yet, I never saw it, never felt, never saw my heartstrings. I never saw them cut before, and never fell while dreaming.

There are yet more tears to come,
but these ones I will cherish.
They gave me back the life I lost,
and without I would perish.

Because if I am honest now,
if I can really feel it,
I did not know I breath today,
and I cannot believe it.

A resonance of pain and blood,
of love and horrid sadness,
has broken my heart open now,
and I weep tears of gladness.

I don't know how I'm going to live.
I don't know how I'll now heal.
But this I know, and this I cry,
"I'll not follow death's peal!"

More words will come,
words that explain,
words that I'll try to speak,
but now, today, and for a while,
I'll lie here, hurt and weak.
zetasyanthis: (Default)
This is another rough one, I'm afraid. Not sure exactly where it's going, but can just tell. Maybe the little girl crying next to me in the coffee shop as I write this is influencing me, or maybe she's just reminding me of the little one in me who's also suffering. (Poor little thing is struggling mightily with her math homework and her dad's trying his best to help.)

It's been another week, and maybe not a good one. I slept a whole lot, and did make a bunch of progress, both at work and at home, but I'm still as tired as ever. I keep hoping that'll change, and sometimes it does for brief moments, but they are far too few in between. (Yesterday was mostly okay, thankfully.)

So let's deal with the elephant in the room. Therapy was brutal this week, another deep session to try and work through some of the things that have been killing me over the last little while. As opposed to previously, where I'd made contact with some memories at the age of around four, this time I was faced with memories and emotions from around the age of six. And holy crap did they hurt. >.<

[Author's note: This one hurts. A lot.]

You see, my brother's always been a destructive force in my life, even from the time I was little. In this particular memory, though, destructive isn't quite the word, as he was too young (5 to my 6) to impact me directly. Instead, his impact was felt in the extra time and care he needed from my parents... time I never got.

Between his ADHD, school troubles, and many other issues, most of which I won't go into here, Andy always needed more. The problem is that I needed more too, and the giant hole where that love should have been ripped me apart. >.<

You see, Zoe (my therapist) says that when you're that age, the only way you can interpret that kind of thing is in terms of love. Attention, time spent, and emotional support translate directly into a child's perception of how much their parent cares for them. And she's right. At the age of six, and maybe even well after that, I had no other way to process that, even if I didn't understand how it was hurting me at the time.

A momentary aside: I know *why* my brother needed needed more help than I appeared to, and knew at least a little bit even then. I've talked in the past about being the 'golden kid' in the family, and I'm realizing more and more that I put myself in that spot in trying to take a load off my already overburdened parents. I pulled the stoic-little-kid-who'd-soldier-through routine, trying to make them proud, burying my hurt as deeply as possible, and trying to find some way to stand out in the hopes that they would see me.

I still struggle with that today. >.<

"I couldn't feel that they loved me. I still needed them... but I wasn't important."

And so I slipped away. >.<

[Author's note: There will probably be more posts in this series, but I don't have the heart to go on today. >.<]
zetasyanthis: (Default)
Man, it's been a year.

Early for retrospectives, I know, but *sheer sigh of exhaustion* holy moly. This hasn't been an easy one. It's been 20 months since I moved from Arizona and started this whole crazy adventure, and I'm pretty lucky to have done it when I did. I say that because I honestly don't think I have the strength to  do it again. If time reversed and I found myself back in Arizona with all the memories and knowledge I now have, but having to go back through all the hard times I've been through since, I'm pretty sure I'd kill myself. A lot of days I wonder how I never did. >.<

As much as I'm improving, and as much progress as I've made, this is still hard... every single day. Crushing pressure the likes of which not even the oceans can summon has given way to the kindling of a soul, but one who has been horribly mauled in the intervening years. Shards of self, like pieces of a broken crystal, have been slowly reassembled, but their glow still hurts to look at, the pain obvious in the broken light they cast.

I'm still here, and I'm still trying; but the body-blows have been devastating. I feel like one often does after a hard day of physical work: beaten, sore, and exhausted. Always, always tired. I know what this is, and I know I have to fight it, because I am improving, but there are days I'm still not sure if it's going to win. There are times (like now), where I would give anything to just stop hurting, to stop being afraid. All I want to do is shake myself apart, to scream and cry... but those tears still aren't coming. Some have, but there are many more to come. >.<

I didn't really mean for this journal to go in this direction, but I guess it had to be said. I'm still hurting, and I'm still hurting a lot. Maybe it's just that I can see it finally, but I'm a fucking mess at the moment and could really use some help. >.< I just want the pain to stop. >.<

(And yes, I am seeking medical help... just still feel like shit. >.<)

Hurting

Aug. 20th, 2016 05:43 pm
zetasyanthis: (Default)
I'm not exactly sure where I'm going to go with this one yet, but I feel compelled to write, if only to try and make sense of what I'm going through at the moment.

As a caution, I'm going to try and connect as deeply as I can while writing this, so this is liable to get pretty dark and upsetting. If you're in a bad head space yourself, this might not be the post for you. >.<

--------------------

Anxiety has been killing me the last few days. >.< It's been orders of magnitude higher than... well, I want to say "ever", but that's probably not 100% accurate. This is terrifyingly reminiscent of what I went through in my sixth grade year, the memories of which I'm still pushing away. (Some, because it's subconscious, and some, because I apparently can't face them quite yet. >.<)

With that said, I'm going to continue discussing this as though it is the worst, because those seem to be the words I need to use to connect with this and validate my feelings...

The last two weeks have been the worst two weeks of my entire life. I've made so much progress, connected so much better than ever before, but there is always more pain. Visceral fear and terror, the likes of which should make me cry and shake until I feel better, if only the tears would come. But they will not, and it is killing me. >.<

I know I'm getting closer. I know I'm getting better, and that this is the dark before the dawn... but this darkness is so vast that I do not know how to navigate it, the pain so deep that I absolutely cannot cope. >.< I'm doing what I can to remain functional, to go to work and come home again, to do all those things that life demands of us, no matter our condition, but I feel like I'm failing. There is a hole in my heart, and all beauty seems to drown in it. >.<

My tremors have been getting worse. They encompass most of my upper body now, especially my neck and head, and I'm sorry, but I've been hiding them. >.< I'm as scared of them as I am of the things that are causing them, and the pain that will not cease. How much longer I can go without them being noticed at work, I'm not sure, but I'm in a pretty bad way.

I am still broken. >.<

I am healing, but it hurts. So much. >.<

This pain has always been here. But I pushed it away, hurting myself even worse in the process as I kept myself apart from whatever I have been. I am trying, desperately trying, to just be myself, but it is terrifying, and I hurt so much. >.<

*Her* pain (a fragment of myself, aged about four) to *my* pain is a *massive* breakthrough, even if it's killing me. >.<

I might yet end up in the hospital here, and the thing that scares me most is that *I have to be okay with that* in order to get through this. I'm not yet there, but I made it half an inch yesterday. >.<

*curls into a ball with her kitty* >.<
zetasyanthis: (Default)
Dear members of the Blue Cross Blue Shield appeals committee,

I have been trying to write this letter for about six weeks now, but I was unsure how to approach writing you. In those six weeks, though, I've learned a lot about myself, and about why I need the care I now seek from you. And so, I will not tell you how I struggle every month to pay rent, even though I could. I will not quote statistics or legalisms in an effort to compel you to make a decision. I will, however, ask for your compassion. (Should those items prove of more interest to the committee, however, I have provided relevant documentation in this appeals packet.)

I am hereby appealing the denial of coverage of necessary blood tests (including risk factor testing) as prescribed by my provider, Bessa Makoni, NP, for the purposes of hormone replacement therapy, something I desperately need. <number> and <number2> are the affected claim numbers.

Today marks the completion of my tenth week on hormone replacement therapy (HRT), which I am on, not as a precursor to any kind of surgery, but entirely for mental health reasons, something that is covered by the Jabil Circuit BCBS plan. The blood tests detailed in the denied claims cover my initial risk-factor testing, as well as the ongoing monitoring of my hormone levels, which is vitally necessary in order for my treatments to be safe and effective.

I do not know if I can possibly explain to you the difference HRT has made in my life, even in these short weeks, but if I could, you would weep as I have. I have never in my life felt as I do now. I have never had this much hope, and I am terrified at what would happen if I was unable to continue down this path.

In my short 29 years on this planet, I have lived as a terribly broken creature. My mind, from as early as I can remember, has been filled with fear and anger, terror and rage that no child should ever feel. But even more so, it has been filled with darkness, depression so deep that I could not even recognize the depths of what I was missing. I felt shattered, so broken that even tears were impossible, no weight or action sufficient to make things right.

And so, I ask for your compassion as I make my case to you. HRT has changed my life, but I cannot long afford it without the assistance that heath insurance provides. Already, I have had to cancel dozens of therapy sessions for want of funds, just so I could still cover this while meeting rent.

I do not know if any of you have ever met someone who is transgender. I do not know if you support trans rights in your own communities. I know not if you regard us with disgust, or pity, or do not think of us at all. I know only that I, like you, am a living, breathing person, and I badly need your help.

If there is anything I can do to provide further information, or even if a member of the committee would just like to speak to me, please do not hesitate to contact me at any time of day.

Thank you,
Zeta Syanthis

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Zeta Syanthis

September 2017

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