Becoming, Lucy

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  • A Conversation With Death

    I wrote this in the first few hours after losing someone I loved deeply. A conversation with something I don’t understand but keep being forced to face.

    Death. 
    You’re a cruel friend. 

    I’ve thought about you, a lot. 
    I know you’ve thought about me too. 
    But you never come for me, do you? 
    You go for the ones I love instead.

    Is this some sort of sick game to you?
    Is it some sort of lesson?
    I don’t need a lesson. 
    Why do you take the ones I love?

    I understand death better than most.
    I know we live and then we die. 
    But why do you take the ones I love?
    Why do you not let them live?

    Death.
    I’m not sure you’re my friend.

  • Messy and Honest

    Today. Today has been weird. I want to say it has been hard but it hasn’t – it’s just hard right now. My cat has gone missing and I’m feeling guilty because I didn’t realise he was missing until this evening when I think he has been gone since this morning. Trying not to think about that too much right now or this whole diary entry will just be me spiralling about my naughty cat. Have an indoor cat, it’s safer they said… Until you leave the door open for a moment too long and they go explore.

    Anyway, what a long week. Work has been unproductive for me, my to do list has gotten bigger each day with very few tasks ticked off. Sleep has not come easy each night

    I wanted to write about my Friday, about my week but I’m just complaining and I hate it. I hate every word coming out of my mouth. I’m anxious. I’m tired. I’m overwhelmed. I’m… I don’t know what I am. But I do not want this whole diary entry to be me just going on about what has sucked this week. In fact, I don’t even feel like writing honestly. I think i need a cry. I don’t know what I need.

    After sitting and staring at my screen for five minutes, I think I’m just going to let this entry sit. Messy and honest. No reflection, no resolution. Maybe that’s the way my week needed to end.

  • Grey

    Everything was grey today. 
    The sky. 
    The cars.
    Even my coffee looked grey. 
    It tasted grey too, the barista forgot the caramel. 

    My tasks at work were grey. 
    Too much paper. 
    Today has felt uninspiring.

    I’ve poured a lot out emotionally recently. 
    I think my brain and body are resetting. 

    I hope I can find some colour in my evening. 

    I found colour.

    Pink clouds like brush strokes in the blue sky as the sun set.
    Purple in my workout.
    Orange and yellow in the dance party in the kitchen with my boys.
    Rainbows in the shuffle of songs Spotify played.

  • Today I Needed Warmth

    Today I needed warmth, I needed to be held. I didn’t have anyone for that so I had to be that for myself. So I sat and reflected…

    I carry a lot quietly – nothing big, nothing hard but like a friend of mine says, everyone’s pain is maximal to them.

    I still show up, I still manage to find beauty, create beauty in the small moments. I don’t drown in the darkness (or try not to at least), I keep moving through it. I keep letting my light glow, even if it is dim. A warm yellow glow, not bright, not shiny, just there.

    I question everything – some may see this is a fault but it means I turn my vulnerability, my chaos, my ache into art, conversation, understanding.

    I’m proud of me for that. For staying curious. For trying. For refusing to numb myself.

    So today was a day of reflection, of being that warmth for myself, something I usually struggle with. I am proud of me for that, for being the kindness I usually show others.

    Today I am proud of myself.

    This is my journey of becoming, of self love. The road isn’t straight; it’s full of twists and turns, even some roundabouts that I get stuck on sometimes. But it’s my journey and I hope I remember this moment next time I find myself circling one again.

  • Half Finished Note

    Tired

    Tired of pretending

    Tired of smiling

    Tired of being

    Tired of work

    Tired of hoping

    Tired of being present 

    So tired

  • When I Can’t Find The Words

    I struggle to articulate my thoughts sometimes.
    Often.

    I can feel the words on my tongue
    or like a static in my chest,
    but I cant tune into the frequency.

    It’s frustrating,
    It spills out as tears,
    or as anger.

    90% of the time it’s tears.

    Since I started journaling,
    letting the words fall out of me,
    I have found it easier.
    Maybe I’m not speaking the words out loud,
    but I am getting my truth out,
    without the tears, without the anger.

    It has been good.

    I am angry.
    I am upset.
    You let me down,
    again.

    I will retreat,
    I will make myself smaller.
    I will quieten myself,
    again.

    I don’t want to fight.
    I don’t want to shout.
    It won’t help.

    Have you given up?
    Are you tired of me?
    Do you even notice?
    You don’t even notice.

    Everything is fine,
    You think.

    I don’t want to wear my mask anymore.
    I don’t want to stay quiet anymore.

    If I use my voice, will you notice?
    Will you care?

    Don’t leave.
    Don’t leave me.
    Please stay.
    Stay with me.

    Maybe I should stay quiet.

  • The Mirror

    You watch me every morning and every evening.

    It’s our routine.

    Do you talk to your friend across the hall about me?

    Do you see what I see?

    Do you see how I avoid your gaze?

    I need you (both) though, I can’t avoid you (both) completely.

    But I find it hard to face you (both).

    I wonder if we’ll ever be friends.

    Will I ever be able to look at you and feel happiness?

    Do you like seeing me?

    Do you like our routine?

    Would you tell me I’m beautiful?

    Would you mean it?

  • The Joke’s On Me

    I’m laughing at myself.

    I started this blog so I had somewhere to write, somewhere to pour out my thoughts from my overthinking brain, and told myself it might make someone else feel less alone.

    The joke is on me.

    I’m putting my thoughts on the internet so I feel less alone.

    What a silly sausage I am.

    I guess whatever makes me feel better, right?

  • Thank You For Staying, Demons

    I tried writing a letter to my past self today. I couldn’t do it.

    It wasn’t that it felt too emotionally hard or it physically hurt, it was the fact I had nothing to say. I wanted to tell her that she was strong and she isn’t alone but when I think back to her, she was alone.

    As I wrote, a moment flashed in my mind. A teenager, pacing her room, crying silently, unable to breathe as she fights the demons in her head, telling them to be quiet. The memory flashed in my mind as an observer, not as if I was reliving it but I was in the corner of the room watching her mouth speak the word ‘help’, but no sound came out. Her body slumped against the wall as she collapsed to the floor, broken, seconds away from submitting to the demons, but then she looked at me. Her bloodshot eyes met mine and for just a second, you could see hope.

    She would eventually submit to the demons a few months later and attempt to take her life anyway.

    I don’t remember dreaming of the future. I remember dreaming of being demon free, I remember dreaming of having dreams, dreaming of hope.

    I used to picture myself as someone else, someone happy, someone who had a million dreams and went on to achieve them… Am I that person now?

    I don’t feel like that person now. I have emptied some of my demons though. My mind used to be a crowded underground station, demons shoulder to shoulder. Now I can count the demons, sometimes there’s more than I can count on two hands, but it never gets out of control, it never gets too much.

    Maybe I was right to have hope.

    Maybe I’m not alone.

    Maybe my demons are my hope.

    Maybe my demons make sure I’m not alone.

    My demons make me strong.

    Thank you for staying with me, demons.

  • Here

    Wrote this right after my diary entry… I needed it out of me.

    Feeling.

    Feeling isn’t hard.

    We all feel.

    I feel so far apart.

    I am not here.

    I am there.

    Where is there?

    Not here.

    I am not.

    I am not.

    I am.

    Here.

    Here.

    No.

    There.

    Let me be here.

    Let me feel here.

    Let me feel.

    Let me.

    Let.

    Please.