Persistence

mental health, Poetry, thoughts

Sometimes my mind’s not right.

So I sit and I write.

With endless thoughts coming out.

Silently but it shouts.

Screaming for change.

Thirsting for anything.

Different.

Seeking but not finding.

Potential is really blinding.

My heart just isn’t in it.

Shut down and abort the mission.

Till the next time.

Should there be a common one to find.

I breathe without thinking.

Same way I operate on a daily living.

Numb.

What have I become?

I’m usually not the one.

To turn down fun.

But now I run.

Shelter in place.

Get out of my face.

I don’t have time to deal with your shit today.

I’m not in the mood.

Yours is killing mine too.

Let’s separate to keep the peace.

Why can’t this be easy?

Strength.

Encouraging it seems to be.

To be the strongest version of me.

Diversions they seem.

To divert the truths.

What’s the use?

When there’s always an excuse?

Persistence.

The drive to avoid the distance.

The time that it takes to conquer and divide.

Is too long so we see some resistance.

Giving up ain’t in my blood.

I’ll bleed out until I’m done.

The reality is that there’s still more.

More to explore.

More to endure.

This can’t be the best version of me.

I continue along the self-realization journey.

I encourage you all to join me.

-Dear Perception

Crucial Conversations 🤭

advice, mental health, Poetry, thoughts

What do they call it when life is stable?

When everything is like those families you see on cable?

Where everything feels “normal” and there’s no interruptions?

The most I have to worry about is waking up in the morning?

Content, at peace, that’s what some would say.

Fortunate, blessed, there are many names.

For the things that I am, but not for what it takes.

To get to this place in the first place.

It’s not about being lucky, it’s not about being fortunate.

It’s about hard work and putting in the effort for it.

It’s about long days and nights, mental health declines.

It’s about understanding it’s another sleepless night.

There’s a lot of breakdowns along the way.

I cry many tears and there’s a lot I have to say.

I speak my mind freely, because I truly don’t mind.

Giving someone a different perspective, being present in time.

I evaluate the world around me, I soak it all in.

Most importantly, I stop and I listen.

I listen before I respond and jump.

I listen before I let my emotions speak up.

I listen to how someone is portraying their body.

I listen to how the words are coming out, loudly or softly?

I’ve learned to listen as I’ve been on this path.

This never-ending train of constant wreck.

I am fortunate enough to earn my way.

Putting in work every single day.

I have a lot of weaknesses I’m figuring out.

I try to find a way to turn them around.

Like why the fuck do I speak so loudly?

And why do I cut so deep when I speak?

Let’s have these conversations with ourselves and one another.

Let’s try to understand a little more about each other.

Don’t be afraid of what others have to say.

Instead embrace the words in your own kind of way.

-Dear Perception

Speaking of Reality

mental health, Poetry, thoughts

Breathe in and breathe out.

Is that the light?

I was born into this world ready to die.

Where is my mind?

Developing, still just cells.

Who will I become?

Only time will tell.

It’s been years and years

I’ve yet to discover who I am

Other than a case full of anxiety and stress.

Overwhelmed, I’m failing at my own tests.

Chin up, dry those tears,

You are stronger than you appear.

When I was born, I didn’t know there was a future till it became clear.

Life isn’t what you make it but how you take it.

Life is a forever canvas that starts blank.

Fill it up with the experience then wipe it away.

Come back on a rainy day.

When you’re weak as fuck and your emotions can relate.

When you find the courage to demolish the slate.

When you throw it all out, release your mind, you can create.

Life is about interpretation.

A battle of the mind and the soul.

A losing one if you let your mind take control.

There’s a common denominator between yourself and I.

We are all human and we will all die.

Beyond that, we are all just trying to survive.

So tell me why…

Do you think that you’re better than the rest?

When in reality we could all just be friends.

We could help each other out instead of competing.

We could realize that we all need a heart to beat.

We could hold out our hands, tell others we understand.

Let them know that it’s okay.

Let them know it’s normal to break.

Let them know that we’ll help them stand back on their feet.

Instead we kick people when they’re down.

Then pray to god like “why me?”

So you see, it all could be so simple.

Let go of the arrogance and be kind to other people.

-Dear Perception

Slow Demise 💥

anxiety, mental health, thoughts

Sometimes, poetry won’t cut it when you feel like your brain is maxing out.

I’m on the verge of having an anxiety attack.

I recognize the precursors by now.

There’s a tightness in my stomach, my back is aching, my head hurts, I can’t sleep.

Now I’m like a ticking time bomb to nobody but myself.

Waiting for the hyperventilation to start.

Waiting for the tears to fall and not stop.

Waiting for the never ending thoughts to amplify in my head, every negative thing at one time. All of the pain, the struggle, the future, the past, the happiness, all of it merges together and explodes.

In those moments, there’s no control of my emotions.

I don’t like when things are out of control.

I am a problem solver. I find solutions. I don’t make excuses.

In these states of panic, I’m none of those things.

I’m just drained.

I’m tired.

I don’t want to do a damn thing anymore until this stupid attack happens and I can move forward.

However, I have to do the things. Right?

Who else is going to do it?

So my battle begins internally once more.

How much longer until anxiety wins?

-Dear Perception

Anxiety Nights

anxiety, depression, mental health, Poetry, thoughts

Tonight’s one of those nights,

Where things creep into my mind.

Staring blankly at the black screen under my closed eyes.

The vibe just isn’t right.

My heart keeps jolting inside.

Searching for answers I can’t find.

So I sit and take in the silence.

But…

The questions never end.

It’s all starting to blend.

Why that and why this.

I’m so tired of this shit.

I don’t even know how to react sometimes.

I think about giving this life back sometimes.

I truly wish, that I wouldn’t slack sometimes.

Anxiety, is fucking wack sometimes.

You gotta be, a lot stronger than your mind.

Intelligence is built from a real small line.

Open up, to other perspectives.

Stop arguing, shut up, and listen!

-Dear Perception

No Escape

anxiety, depression, mental health, Poetry, thoughts
Photo cred: Mat Reding

They say that we all live to die.

My question is why?

Why do we build up this life?

When in the end we say bye?

Does our life serve a purpose?

Have we created fictional versions

Of what life is supposed to be

Making it a harder excursion.

We give and we take

Some take more than others

Some give more away

Some do things for cover.

Make themselves feel better.

Smile on their face, camera rolling.

The video will break records.

Social media has become so controlling.

Open your eyes.

Be a silent observer.

Take in other’s mind.

Learn to do better!

In the end we all die.

That’s not a lie. I must say.

Your grave will be no bigger than mine.

In the end, there’s no escape!

-Dear Perception

❤️ Internal Battles 🧠

advice, anxiety, depression, mental health, Poetry, thoughts

Sit back, let’s have a conversation and relax.

Brain: You do realize you don’t have time for that.

Enlighten me with your life’s stories.

Anxiety: This doesn’t seem like a good idea to me.

If you need anything, just let me know.

Heart: You’re always trying to cover up your sorrow.

I can’t wait for the next time we hang out.

Depression: You know you’re going to cancel, just cancel that now.

I’m waking up, I got so much to do.

Mind: You say that everyday, that’s nothing new.

I need a break, let me sit down and scroll.

Brain: I thought today you were gonna break that cycle.

The day is flying by, I feel so unaccomplished,

Anxiety: Omg, there’s so much shit.

I have tomorrow, let me rest today.

Heart: Yeah, the ones you love need you anyway .

I’m stressing now, when will it all stop.

Depression: you could end it anytime that you wanted.

Deep breaths, that’s what they say to do.

Mind: Come on you know that doesn’t work for you.

Yeah, you’re right, I think I’m running out of options.

Brain: No you’re not, you haven’t even really thought about them.

Keep pushing, I’m stronger than I know.

Anxiety: People expect you to keep up the facade bro.

It’s never ending, smile, and push on.

Heart: Do it for the ones you love, be strong.

I do it all the time, no excuses to be made.

Depression: Yes and then you cry at the end of the day.

Behind closed doors, what I do is my business.

Mind: Yeah, but can you even handle it?

-Dear Perception

🚨WordPress Exclusive: Mother Rose🚨

advice, depression, mental health, thoughts, trigger warning

This is going to be hard to write but my mom has been on my mind so I’m going to write about it. On top of that, 11/16/2020 would’ve been her 52nd birthday, RIP mother rose!

I’ll start from the beginning.

Thinking back to one of my first memories of her, she was beautiful and angry, but she always tried to keep us safe in her way.

Unfortunately my earliest memories of her are not happy. We were running. From what, I’ll never know. My sister is gone and my brother can’t remember much. I must’ve been 3 or so. I just remember being in an old brown impala or something like that, squeezed together in the back seat with my brother and sister, wrapped in a blanket that I dragged with me out of bed when I was rudely awaken. My mom had told us to grab blankets and some shoes and hurry up. She was mumbling to herself and reversing quickly, “Motherfucker”. I don’t know what she was pissed off at, but she was mad. I was exhausted and so were my siblings but we always did as we were told, so there we sat sleepily, with our blankets wrapped around us and our shoes barely hanging on our feet. I doze off and never knew what happened that night. We woke up the next day back at home. I don’t know where we ended up that night. I would like to say the neighbor’s trailer but I’m not positive on that one, I know we definitely made a pit stop there. Regardless, it wouldn’t be the last time we were running when we were with our mom.

A fonder memory was my mom watching Barney with me one morning, my brother and sister were off to school. I was upset that I couldn’t go with them but I remember her sitting there with me to watch TV, telling me to stop crying. I heard that a lot when she was around me. Suppress the cries, always.

The first time I remember getting in trouble by my mom was when I climbed out of my crib using a toy box because I wanted more milk. My mom was upset I didn’t go to sleep, so she yelled while giving me milk and sent me back to bed, telling me to figure out how to get back in the crib the same way I did to get out. I cried then too, but I figured it out.

As I’m writing, more of these memories are popping up. It’s crazy how many things we can lock away.

When I was 4 and in pre-k, my brother and I were riding our bikes one morning before the bus came. I didn’t tie my shoe and my shoe lace got caught in the chain. If I thought my mom was angry before this, I was wrong. She definitely screamed at me because the bus was waiting and the rhetorical questions started, why were we even on our bikes, nobody told us to do that. She cut my laces and told me to go, not changing my shoe or helping me tie it. I ran out of the house and ran for the bus as I silently cried. I struggled with trying to tie my shoe, but with one lace nearly gone, the long lace wouldn’t tie. The bus driver assistant eventually helped me tie my shoes and told me it was okay. I didn’t believe her but I sucked up my tears because I didn’t want her to see me cry. The bus finally drove away and I closed my eyes, fighting back the tears. It was time to go to school, my favorite place of all.

As I grew older the memories become more clear obviously. Like when my mom took us to Taco Bell to get food, and when we arrived at home, my dad was there unexpectedly. They were already split up so he shouldn’t have been there and the moment my mom saw his truck I heard that same “Motherfucker!” phrase I heard before. An insane fight broke out that landed my mom behind bars and my dad in the hospital.

When I say my mom was angry, I mean she was angry and acted like it. She was a fighter for sure! Not only did she hit my skinny ass dad in the head with a pan, she threw a hammer dead at his face. Thankfully, I saw the pan only and not the hammer. Once the fight got physical, my brother and I dipped out, I have no clue where my sister went. We ran to the back of the fields behind our house and my brother left me there to go back and check on what was happening. At the time, I was six and he was eight or nine but he was braver than I. I cowered in the field waiting for him to get back. Not much time had passed before he came running back and he didn’t stop at me, he was crying and running towards the neighbors across the half acre of land. I followed him foolishly and got lost as I couldn’t keep up. I decided to turn back and finally found my way through all of the trees to the fence line which I followed back to the gate. By the time I made it back, it was getting dark. I walked back to the house, joined my sister who was standing on the porch, and waited for my brother as I watched my mom going psycho. “Hide the beer!“. That’s all I remember doing, taking the beer and throwing it in the closet before going back outside. The sirens were nearing and my mom joined us on the porch. My brother was back and we were silent as ever. I watched my mom tell us sorry as she was handcuffed and put into the cop car. I heard the ambulance sirens rushing my dad to the hospital (turns out my mom threw a hammer at his face, which my brother and sister witnessed). That explained why my brother was running through the field, he later recounted that he heard dad tell my mom’s brother to take him to Shannon’s. We waited there with the police officers until my grandmother got there. I think my uncle waited there too. The ride to her house, I remember questioning myself, thinking the reason my mom was taken to jail was because I had told the cops where the beer was. I felt like I had failed her. She had tasked me with one thing and one thing only, hide the beer. I hid it in the hallway closet, but I couldn’t lie to the police. I was little, scared, and as I continued to think about it, I shut down.

So that’s how life started with my mom and that’s how it stayed.

It was forever a rollercoaster, who needed the adventure park when life was an adventure.

There were good times and bad times, but there was never a boring time.

Truth be told about my mom, she was abused as a child. Her mom was from Thailand, came to America by marrying my soldier grandfather, and spent her life drinking, smoking, and cheating. I don’t really know what to believe of the stories I’ve been told over the years, but I know what to believe based on what I’ve seen. I only knew my grandma Nan as the lady who we did not want to disturb when we went over and who sat and drank, smoked, and played lottery a lot. If that’s the same version my mom got as a child, I’m sure my grandma Nan did not put up with anything that would disturb the peace.

All I know based on my mom’s unaccountable stories of her as a child is that my grandmother beat her a lot and she spent a lot of time fighting in school. She’s also mentioned playing with monkeys and riding elephants before coming to America. That’s all I know about her childhood.

To say I don’t believe it would be a lie, I spent years watching my mom fuck people up! Mainly my stepdad but she was never scared! I went with her to a parking lot one time so she could pick up a gun. She got mad I kept asking where we were going, so she told me she’s getting a gun with silencer because she was tired of the neighbor’s keeping her dad up. I don’t know what she did after getting the gun, but she also could’ve used that as a cover to picking up drugs. I don’t know. I also saw my grandmother pull my mom by the hair once and it was the only time I’ve ever seen my mom cower as a grown adult. So it’s not hard to believe the stories my mom told as I did see her trauma when her mom was upset with her. I just believe there was plenty of variations to it.

Anyway, the years weren’t all bad but there’s never a good memory without a bad one. We spent summers going to the river and beaches. Outdoor activities were cheap and my mom loved fishing.

Those summers were fun. My sister left to Dallas with her dad at some point so most of the time it was my brother and I just roaming free with no parents! We survived and that’s kind of surprising. We learned to stay out of our mom’s hair. Some days she was patient and loving, she bought us things, we went out to eat, I could talk to her about stuff and she would listen, sometimes give me a little bit of knowledge, then be on her way.

As a kid and teenager, my mom really fucked with us. She told me my dad wasn’t my dad, she wanted to sign her rights over to my grandmother, always giving her legal guardianship when she felt too overwhelmed. She would go missing sometimes, but we had our grandma so we were fine. When she showed up around holidays, sometimes she was beat in the face, making excuses for one of her sorry ass boyfriends, I ran into a pole. Sometimes she looked absolutely amazing and I was proud of her. During those times, she would get us back from my grandma claiming to have changed and that she was ready and stable.

The stability lasted until my stepdad landed in jail. Until she couldn’t afford the bills alone again. Until we had to move, back to my grandma’s, until she was on her feet again.

By the time she got well, I was already gone. Obviously making poor choices of my own but never failing in life because of them. She had a good 1-2 year run where she had met a man and I hated him but he was good for her. Then drugs came back. She was gone again.

I learned to live pretty independently, only relying on people for things I absolutely needed to. Only trusting my brother and sister.

Even as an adult with my own kids, my mom’s patterns didn’t really change. In and out of jail and rehab. Jail charges for fraud, drugs, assault, burglary, etc. I had to find my own way without worrying about her.

My sister stopped talking to her for years before my sister got cancer and needed someone to help her. My mom did step up and take care of my sister while she was dying. They made peace with each other and my sister made me realize that I had to learn to forgive. If my sister could do that, surely I could. She fucked my sister up way more than the rest of us, although my sister told me that my mom wasn’t always this person. She told me that my mom used to be a PTA mom. I laughed so hard thinking of her as a PTA mom. She said that she used to show up for events at school and that she was there up until she was like 5. My mom was 15 when she had my sister. My grandma threw my sister out of a window of a car to my mom, to make my mom take care of her baby. My mom didn’t have a choice at 15 but to be a mom so she tried and that makes me feel a little better. She wanted to try.

Somewhere along the way, drugs took over and never left fully. Eventually, my mom was diagnosed with cancer, like my sister. She was diagnosed in November of 2017 and died in January 2019. Literally months before she died, I forgave her. She told me in December 2018, a month before she died, that she was proud of me and that I was a better mom than she ever was to us. It was in that moment that I realized my mom was just a broken person my entire life and that she did try her best with the resources she had. She made sure we had the basic needs and when she couldn’t do that, she found other places for us to go. If she couldn’t do that, we figured out our own ways because that was how we had to survive. We watched her survive, be innovative, creative, so we could do it too.

To this day, that’s what we do. We survive no matter what!

This is long and there’s so many more memories I could talk about. My mom was crazy. She was broken, but in the times she was okay, she showed us love in her own way. I can’t say I’m not grateful that she was my mom because I wouldn’t be half of the crazy person I am today without her.

I wish I would’ve forgiven my mom sooner and helped her a lot sooner instead of cutting her off. I can be glad she got right before she died. I know she’s somewhere with my grandpa, her dad, because he loved her so much and never gave up on her. I know the one thing my mom had to live with was not being able to tell her dad bye. My grandma wouldn’t let her in the house when he passed away and that’s because of my mom’s choices. She struggled with this but never talked about it.

Anyway, I guess my mom is still around and heavy on my mind lately. She was a strong woman who succumbed to addiction and mental illness. It can really affect a person and the people around them.

Make sure you take care of yourself everyone! Don’t let your mental health mess with your life so bad that the choices you make are regretted.

Forreal, speak up if you need help. There’s people out here who don’t judge and want to help you! I wish my mom would’ve done it sooner.

Rest In Peace Mother Rose! Thanks for always trying your best and accepting me always even when you yourself didn’t agree with my choices, how ironic.

-Dear Perception

Everything is Always Fine ❤️

advice, anxiety, depression, mental health, Poetry, thoughts

It’s creeping up, I’m trying to run.

Will I escape, I’m tired of these games.

I don’t know my fate, my mind goes insane.

The wires are crossed and I’m feeling rage.

It’s mixed with fear, it’s mixed with grief.

It’s mixed with the trauma that’s buried deep.

I preach and I preach.

But do I practice what I mean.

Can I do all of these things?

Can I do these things myself?

Can I listen to my own help?

Probably not.

But if I don’t try to help others.

Do I ignore them instead?

I’m good at this!

I try to help others think about things like me.

I try to help them identify their problems you see?

I can offer up solutions that come out quite easy.

Then I can go home and act blind and turn my cheek.

Just stay busy.

Stick to the plan.

Time and time again.

But I’m getting kinda tired

If I can be a little honest.

I’m not sure I want to do this.

-Shut up depression.

Let me get back to it.

All I need is some music.

A little time outside.

A little time to clear my thoughts.

Everything is always fine. ❤️

-Dear Perception

Positive Vibes Your Way 😌😌

advice, anxiety, depression, mental health, thoughts

I’ve taken a break from writing, although I’m trying to make a comeback.

Can we talk about how fucking crazy life has been for a second?

I’m not sure what everyone else is up to, but I’m busy AF!

Work, kids, home life, and to be quite honest, reading has been consuming my writing time.

I’m super deep in a book and once I finish it, I’ll review it for you all.

As for now, here’s a check in.

Mentally, I feel the stress and the chaos, anxiety and depression trying to win, however it won’t.

At least not yet anyway.

There’s a ton of positive and negative things in my life but I think we all have positive and negative situations and it really just depends on how you view the situation and if you are going to dwell on the negative situations, find solutions for them, or completely ignore them.

Whatever you choose to do, I hope it’s the choice that makes you happy and feeling more positive.

Take out the sage.

Light some candles.

Go to church and pray.

Read that book you keep putting off.

Whatever it is that makes you feel peaceful, do it.

Be happy but realistically happy. Don’t be the sprinkles that overdo the fucking cake happy.

Just be the amount of sprinkles that makes you and others around you happy to be in your company!

Happy writing and happy reading or happy doing whatever the hell makes you happy!

-Dear Perception