.cautious.looks.

Look cautiously.
Male.
Female.
Confused.
You look at me.
My attire. My posture. My haircut…my facial structure.
Still can’t figure it out.
Then daringly you look at my chest.
You stare.
‘Can I help you?’ I want to say
But I look away.
Slightly ashamed.
Why?

Slowly but surely things are starting to fall into place. I don’t know what place they are supposed to be in but they are falling. Just as the autumn leaves fall off the trees. Who knows where they will land but they fall. I finally have a roof over my head. I have no money in to my name but that is ok - for now.

The bipolar month of October is taking its toll on me. The thick morning fog rolls right into my head. Cold, dreary and rainy days do just that to my head, followed by bright skies and sun. But the sun isn’t out long enough for me to wean myself of the hopeless feelings of despair. Neither lasts long enough for me to cope. Both leave me with this tingling numbness of a feeling.

I constantly repeat to myself regardless. Today I am stronger than I was yesterday. Tomorrow I will be stronger than I am today. I look at my calendar and there is an ‘X’ over each day I make through to wake up to the next. I have friends, good honest friends that check up on me to make sure I am still here. I need them to check in on me. I need to feel like I matter to someone out there. I am only here because of them. And they know who they are.

Counseling.
Yes. I will.
For me. For my sanity. For what I’ve suppressed.
For my self-identity and for being accepted.
Accepted by me. Accepted by society.
For my heart.
For the million pieces still in disarray across the floor.
For my future.
For my depression.
For my happiness.

I remind myself to breathe every now and then. I have a post-it note on my computer saying ‘just breathe’ and ‘don’t panic’. I’m reading a book. It’s called “The Wisdom of a Broken Heart: An Uncommon Guide to Healing, Insight, and Love” by Susan Piver. I sat up in bed last night and started reading. It’s good so far. Makes me realize that the intensity of feelings and emotions I am going through right now, is not completely uncommon. It is ok for me to be crying, feeling, hurting as much as I am. My skin is not as thick as it may seem. It’s light and transparent. The scars and bruises along my arms remind me every day that the pain I feel is real.


It’s slowly starting to dawn on me that I might never be able to be friend to you. Reason being I might never be able to accept your friendship you might offer. I do not take being lied to easily and you know this. I don’t take being made a fool of light heartedly. I am finally coming to accept this, and it’s making it easier.

I’ve had many surprises. People I would have guessed were stalwart friends disappeared from my life and those I hadn’t noticed before came forward out of nowhere to care for me. I have accepted that the friends of yours I tried to make friends with while up there really were not the friends I should have had. They are the ones you prided so much about and said they were family and the most accepting ones you ever had. I never felt fully accepted and welcomed by them, but kept trying regardless. Funny how the ones I only got close to the last month of my stay were in fact the ones that care about me. The ones you barely talked of are the ones that constantly check in on me, talk to me, and want to know how I am doing. I am glad I can still pride myself in having a good sense of judgment when it comes to character.

“I'm not broke I'm just a broken hearted wo[man]
I know it makes no sense but what else can I do
How can I move on when I'm still in love with you
…
There are no holes in my [his] shoes but a big hole in my [his] world”