Employed By Depression

I keep running away from almost every opportunity I get, especially with jobs.

But in reality, depression has become like a job to me over the past 10 or 11 years.

It’s consumed almost every ounce of me. It doesn’t matter what I’m doing or not doing, it doesn’t matter if I’m with people or alone.

Every other day if not everyday is a constant struggle with having too much sleep or not sleeping enough, eating or not eating at all, feeling alone yet needing to isolate myself so that I don’t annoy people.

People tell me to find a hobby, to get up and do something, but even when I find a hobby.. or do something I feel I’m decent at, I either lose interest by finding another interest or I get bored or give up because it’s too difficult.

What seems to be my rock bottom, usually doesn’t feel like it’s enough to help me soar to the surface.

Yet despite all of these things, I’m still fighting even when I’m on my last straw.

I’m still fighting even when I feel as though I’m at my lowest point.

Someone once told me that it’s sometimes harder to let go than it is to hold on.

That may not be true for some people, but I feel as though it’s true for me personally because no natter how much I want to give into letting my body give up, no natter how many times I run away and create a new identity, no matter how many times I try to give up, for some reason, I snap out of it. I find something that motivates me without even searching for it and it’s enough until it isn’t enough again.

I am not you, nor myself.

One day I identify as Transgender, the next I’m fluid. I’ve come to the realization that I may not always identify as one gender, both genders or even a gender and that it’s not anyone else’s business as to why I go by different pronouns so very often.

I used to believe that I had to experience dysphoria just to be considered transgender or even believe I was born in the wrong body. Everyone has their own struggles, everyone is different and not everyone may feel the same way as another transgender person does. I don’t believe that I was born in the wrong body. However, I just believe that I need to alter the body my soul has been entrapped into.

If I tell someone that today I’m male and tomorrow, I go by neutral pronouns or even female pronouns, that doesn’t mean I’m being fake or that I’m doing it for attention. Labels are what make me confused and without them maybe I’d feel a lot more comfortable with who I am.

I myself, am too fluid in every sense of the word to label myself all the time as a certain gender. Sometimes I’m comfortable with it, sometimes I’m not. That doesn’t mean that I deserve less respect just because someone doesn’t accept me or are confused.

I am just simply trying to live in this world and it’s already hard enough.

I am me, myself and I. I am everything and nothing. I am the grey before, the disaster during and the aftermath of every storm.

Tense Bewilderment

Growing up you told me to layer up
Little did I know that you meant more than just in accord of the weather

Boys were told that they were stronger
Girls were made out to be the weaker ones
Atleast when I was younger

There are seperately shot put balls for the girls and for the boys
One set for the weaker sex
One for the stronger
And as sexist as it was, I didn’t know any better

So I struck up my own confidence, ran out of site and picked up the heavier weight
Using most of my strength to hover it into the air, bam, it landed so hard and so fast
But my, did I feel good for doing what I wanted

Not fitting in, segregated
Was told that I couldn’t do the same work as everyone else
Humiliated when I needed reassurance and repetition

Are you a boy? They all chanted knowing who I identified as, it still hurt
It still does

Darkening Depths

Here it is, I can sense it
This, feel something
Creeping, wiping
Everything that ever felt right, good
Vanishing, clambering
All I’ve ever felt about anything, everything
Crawling, scratching
At all I am, might be
Dark, tight around my vocal chords
Eating, swallowing the words I need to define, describe this
Closing around, drowning me
We are falling apart and all I want to do is find the exact moment, figure it out
The time, incident in which we started to drift apart
But what confuses me, conflicts my thoughts
Are the times we share that come to interfere, interject
Consume me and help me feel like i can believe we’ll be okay
And those are the feelings that make me stay
The good, the bad, the overriding of comfortability
Worrying, because I want to feel you
I see people smiling, holding hands
And my heart breaks
I see people laughing, running into eachother’s arms
And every ounce of me that ever felt joy instantly disappears from sight, burying itself
All I want to do is hold you
But I feel you fading
All I want to do is wave a wand and crack it over ourselves and have the magic drip from it into our mouths and tell me that the distance is just an obstacle that can be kicked away
I just want to know if you’re still in it, this, us
Is this, us, are we what you want, need,
crave?
Sometimes you vanish far and I’m not sure whether you’re still there or if I’m just blind from all of the pain
And you see me like people have before, but things come easy and difficult at the same time
Light and dark meet and I just give you what i can, not what i need to, want to give you
My heart and maybe one day, if you want it, you can have it

Mom, dad, I’m your son.

Mom, dad, it’s as though you have three sons instead of two and one daughter
Was what I said to my parents before I realized I was who I am today
Although I may have said it in a joking way, I was being serious
And maybe, just maybe, I’ll say it again to them
And maybe, just maybe, I can tell them that every time they say ” I love you…. but…” that the ” but ” only encourages me back into the closet I forgot existed besides the one I store my clothes in
So dark, so full of confusion and self hatred
They may be confused, but so am I at times
But they still have a child, just a slightly differently version
They didn’t lose a daughter, they just lost the label
They gained a son

Therapy Subway

Therapy rides, is what I’m going to refer to them from now on
Those subway journeys to and from the rap sessions
Although sitting is already helping
New environment, different people
Exciting surroundings
Mental illness can sometimes feel like a chore you’ve been burdened with
Crying because you lost a piece of paper with an important date on it but you don’t want to call the dentist office and have them know you’re disorganized
Panicking because you rubbed a piece of constructive criticism a harsh way
But these rides, they keep the good feelings at bay and relax the frustration

When the bullied became the bullier.

I came across a post on Tumblr by a blog that encouraged it’s followers to write a story starting off with or to contain the sentence ” Of course I was hurt the entire time. I just didn’t say anything. “

So I decided to share mine with my followers and people in general on here.

When the bullied became the bullier.

Of course I was hurt the whole time. I just didn’t say anything.

I had a hard time speaking up and using my voice. It was almost as though I hadn’t found a voice of my own that wasn’t shaky and half silent, half vocal.

They would taunt and tease me almost every single day.

You’re not feminine enough. Are you a boy or a girl? You write like a man. You’re in the wrong washroom, this is the girl’s.

Prior to being bullied regarding my gender identity, I had repeated grade 3 and that’s when it started. Before being called names and being made fun of, my biggest worry regarded getting home late after an after school activity and missing my favourite show on the television. I knew what bullying was, but I had never really been a victum of it before, or not to my awareness.

Can I do the same work as everyone else? I asked my grade 6 teacher. No you can’t.

No you can’t. 

Shot down by one of the school’s teachers. Just because I had a hard time with the work that the majority of other students my own age had been given.

Up until a few weeks ago, I hadn’t realized that being told that I couldn’t do something that other people could do, actually became the root of a few major incidents in my life. The root cause of many issues.

For years, I let people step over me, trample on me as though I almost wasn’t there. Treated as though my very presence was minor instead of influential.

Finally out of nowhere, my voice was found and it was being heard, but not listened to. Muffled by the gossip that flooded the halls, drowned out underneath the sea of fake friends and victumizers.

It was then that I became the bullier.

I stopped allowing people to treat me like a broken piece of glass. Word escaped my mouth that I wouldn’t dared to have spilt out prior. I stopped feeling bad for what I had thrown at others. Eventually, the feeling of power flooded through my veins and not just through my head.

Mind games. Torment. Emotional torture.

Eventually that’s what I put everyone through who crossed my paths, who showed any interest in me. I barely trusted anyone, so testing people became second nature to me after a while because it was easier to let people have my wrath, than for me to trust them right off the bat and have it gone to waste.

Balance finding.

Although I’ve been hurt, and hurt others, I’m trying harder to find a balance between trusting and not being too vulnerable. So far, it’s becoming less difficult.