Wednesday, 22 October 2014

Depression Poem

"Yesterday, I spent 60 dollars on groceries,
took the bus home,
carried both bags with two good arms back to my studio apartment
and cooked myself dinner.
You and I may have different definitions of a good day.
This week, I paid my rent and my credit card bill,
worked 60 hours between my two jobs,
only saw the sun on my cigarette breaks
and slept like a rock.
Flossed in the morning,
locked my door,
and remembered to buy eggs.
My mother is proud of me.
It is not the kind of pride she brags about at the golf course.
She doesn’t combat topics like, ”My daughter got into Yale”
with, “Oh yeah, my daughter remembered to buy eggs”
But she is proud.
See, she remembers what came before this.
The weeks where I forgot how to use my muscles,
how I would stay as silent as a thick fog for weeks.
She thought each phone call from an unknown number was the notice of my suicide.
These were the bad days.
My life was a gift that I wanted to return.
My head was a house of leaking faucets and burnt-out lightbulbs.
Depression, is a good lover.
So attentive; has this innate way of making everything about you.
And it is easy to forget that your bedroom is not the world,
That the dark shadows your pain casts is not mood-lighting.
It is easier to stay in this abusive relationship than fix the problems it has created.
Today, I slept in until 10,
cleaned every dish I own,
fought with the bank,
took care of paperwork.
You and I might have different definitions of adulthood.
I don’t work for salary, I didn’t graduate from college,
but I don’t speak for others anymore,
and I don’t regret anything I can’t genuinely apologize for.
And my mother is proud of me.
I burned down a house of depression,
I painted over murals of greyscale,
and it was hard to rewrite my life into one I wanted to live
But today, I want to live.
I didn’t salivate over sharp knives,
or envy the boy who tossed himself off the Brooklyn bridge.
I just cleaned my bathroom,
did the laundry,
called my brother.
Told him, “it was a good day.”
—Kait Rokowski (A Good Day)

Saturday, 11 October 2014

Positive Post

So, this is, for once, a post without my usual moaning about pain or anything. Whilst they are still there I am choosing to ignore it.
I am lucky enough to be given the opportunity to go to Kenya, in Africa, next year. This trip will involve teaching the children, helping the teachers that live over there and generally making it a better place for the children. Many of the children would not be fead if it wasn't for the school, they also have suffered through lots of hardship. Many are orphaned or affected by HIV or aids. They live in slums and go through rubbish dumps and bins looking for food.
What I want to do is take over a suitcase full of items, such as books and pencils, that the schools may not already have. To do this I need to raise money. So I have set up a donation page and am hoping the chiari community dig deep and help me reach my target.
My fundraising page is please consider donating, I know how much of a difference this could make to children. I promise to post photos of the children looking joyful upon my return so you can see what your donation has done for them!!