Trigger Warning. Depression. Anxiety. Fears. Discussions of suicide and self harm. But, there’s a lot of us here in this space with me and it’s not good to sit in silence.

It’s been a short minute (a month or so) since I’ve posted. Where I live we went under lockdown and the restrictions that came with it reminded me what I already knew. Life wasn’t going to get back to normal anytime soon. Before Covid hit, I was getting ready to do peer support and head into university with a parallel career to my writing. I was just about to publish Shorts, an anthology of inclusive writing. I was so excited for it. And that was 2019 and it all spiralled out of control for all of us.

I was already in isolation. I was just coming out of it. An isolation forced upon me by homophobia, mental health and attempted suicide. I was just coming out of that and the world (Covid) dragged me right back into isolation. I was ready to socialise. Find my people. Learn to trust others again. To feel safe. To expand my chosen family.

Here I am. It’s 2021 and my 41st birthday just flew on by and it was spent in lockdown. Again. My last birthday and the time before that and the time before that was all in an isolation. The only celebration was between me and my husband. We made the best of it. It’s what we do as survivors.

So for my birthday, I found myself slipping into shadow. I tried to laugh. I tried to smile. I tried to find joy, but sometimes, it’s okay not to. It’s a reality that is moreso apparent for some than others. I just feel like most of my life has been a struggle and I’m tired of struggling. I am tired of people struggling.

It’s a reality we should not accept.

So, I wrote a poem and I thought, hey, since I’m slowly coming back to my blog and things are starting to happen again creatively for me, I’ll start here. With the raw truth. With my heart on my sleeve and my thoughts my poetry:

Birthday Boy

Little me, little me, why are you sighing?
Could it be the empty room
full of streamers and filled balloons?
Could it be the empty space
on the fridge null of cards,
the packages of appreciation
that your family will be there?
Is it feeling sorry for all the things
you’ll never have?

Or is it because you’re a selfish, judgemental brat?
Or an abomination who will one day know
where in hell all the devils sat?
I bet you’re sighing because you’re a liar.
All you want to do is cry.
Why didn’t you listen to the teacher
who told you, you should die?

Little boy, little boy, why are you trying?

I think we already know the answer to that. I am trying because that is what I do. Despite it all, I stand resilient and I find hope…love…joy…and peace…and I keep smiling after it all.