Tag Archives: fear

Manic Mayhem. Can you relate?

Can we talk about something?

What’s the hardest part of your manic episodes?

For me, the hardest part of my manic episodes is the transition out of them

My body picks up on it before it officially happens.
Meaning there are countless days where the smiles you see projected on the outside is nothing more than the results of an internal war.

My mind tearing itself apart, begging for a few more days of self care, light, loving others, and letting others love me.

It’s gritting my teeth at things I’ve not let bother me for the past month start to slowly make my skin crawl again.

It’s an extra 45 minutes in the bathroom trying to stop crying at the reality that I’m losing grip despite holding on with all I have.

It’s the realization that I’ve spent money on new business ventures that I most likely won’t have the will to continue by the time the items come in.

It’s the 30 day trial of this new facial routine I bought, which is actually working by the way, but knowing I’ll never finish it therefore never seeing the final results

It’s the heartbreak of knowing that my happiness is attached to a time limit that I have no control over

It’s the worry that my loved ones will think I’m a fraud, because well I guess I am.
For the past few weeks, I’ve been this shell that cares about the body it carries
I’ve been outgoing
I’ve been brave
And so how do I explain the upcoming silence, ignored texts, etc

It is starting over again and again and again
Hoping that even through the countless times you’ve seen me fall
You notice that despite it all, I’ve always gotten up again.

It’s exhausting.

Colors Not So Bright

Black was the bridge I stood on

Lost in its nothingness

Grasping desperately for blue skies

Grasping for anything really- anything that could ground me

Surround me with dirt so brown, I can bury these gray thoughts

And then water them with ambition so purple I sprout new roots

Roots so unrecognizable to the red hands stained with my blood

The same red hands that tried to drown me in yellow waters and told the world they were just killing me with kindness

Except it was minus the kind

It was my mind that paid the price for a hunger so intense it turned you green with envy

They found you in me

Unaware that though you were removed

Remnants of your not so bright colors remained in my once vibrant veins

And now when I try to love in every color I assume I’ll be declined

Stolen was the sparkle that set me apart

Leaving me colorblind

As Mental Health Awareness Month is coming to an end…

I pride myself on being an amazing mother, partner, family member, friend, human being etc.-and here’s why…

There was a point in my life where I was more angry than sad. I was sad because I was so depressed and i was angry because I truly felt like no one gave a shit. So much so that I tried to take my own life (this was years ago) and I wrote a suicide note, and turns out I kept it.
I’ll be honest I didn’t even know I kept it until I stumbled upon it yesterday digging through old journals.

And so I sat down and read it- I bawled. Y’all, I was so angry back then.
It broke my heart to read a letter I left behind for people who knew me and yet it was filled with so much anger and then there was part for Kannen and I told him that despite what anyone tried to tell him, his momma loved him.

Reading a note that was telling my son goodbye- whew, that hit different and it just…
It just really broke my heart.

My point being that as #mentalhealthawarenessmonth comes to an end, I want my family, my friends, other human beings, etc. – I just want you to know I care, I’ll always care- even when I say I don’t…I do.

I will be your vault, your shoulder to cry on, your person, your safe space-I will be what you need in the moment you need it the most.

It’s important that we remind those that we love just how much we love them.
You never know what people are going through.

I love you guys with everything I have and then some.

✨🖤✨

From Writer To Published Writer And The Fear That Comes With It…

Do you remember the first time your work was shared somewhere other than between the lines of your journal?

Or the semi perfectly formatted pages of your website?

I guess technically we are published writers every time we become brave enough to let our words take shape on its own, releasing them from the pages we keep them captive on.

However it’s a bit different receiving an email informing you, that the poem that you submitted has been published on someone else’s website or in their book, or wherever else we loosened our grip enough to watch our words travel.

I GOT THAT EMAIL YESTERDAY!!

I am a published writer!!!

I am a published writer. Like an actual published writer.

It was surreal to scroll down and see MY bio under my poem on someone else’s website. You can see my featured poem here on PhoebeMD

It was also very scary…and before you think I’m crazy let me explain why.

For years, writing has been the one thing to remain constant in my life. No matter the length of the hiatus between us, I could always come right back to it. Comfortably-with no awkwardness and resume right from where I left off as if I had never left at all.

My journals never judged me about the ways in which I coped. I was never made to feel less than or labeled the “black friend” as if that was all I had to offer the world. Writing was/is/and will always be MY SAFE PLACE.

With that being said, deciding to open up my home-where I feel the safest-to other writers, and really the world is both exhilarating and absolutely terrifying.

What if this becomes something I no longer enjoy doing?

What if I get caught up in the superficial things and I no longer feel safe writing down the stories begging to be told?

Those are some scary thoughts and they are with me constantly….

Want to hear how I deal with those thoughts and how I try to keep my writing as sacred as the day I opened up my first black and white composition book?

Tune in next Monday to an all new episode of the iHaveWrites Podcast as we discuss the fears surrounding the things we love the most.

big girl.

Somewhere within the pages of my emails, lives a draft of a letter I wrote.

It speaks volumes of depression so loud, no one can hear the girl screaming within wanting nothing more than to be saved

It describes how my legs have grown tired of walking away from situations that leave me too battered to fight

It’s assumed that because the mass of my skin is a larger number, I am capable of upholding the heaviest of troubles

And I’d crumble under mountains of heartache before I let you hear my war cry

I’d drown in the river of my sorrows before I’d ever quench the thirst of the serpent begging to be hydrated only to defeat me

Big girls don’t cry until we are reminded that we are big girls

Love seems attainable until it’s ripped from the core of my spine causing my ribs to collapse into themselves leaving no room to take a breath—

—and now I’m suffocating looking for the same love that ditched my body to come and revive me

Undivided Attention, Divided Comprehension

In August 2020 my friend, Kayla, reached out to me asking if I wanted to collaborate with her on a poem she really wanted to create. It was a poem that would serve in memory of a dear friend of hers. After listening to her and hearing how passionate she was, I of course couldn’t wait to bring this poem to life. Kayla, knows that I absolutely love to write and I do so passionately. However, she also knows that most of what I write stays behind the doors of my many designed notebooks and journals.

I’m thankful that she approached me with this and made sure that not only did I write piece for the poem but she also wanted me to RECORD myself reciting it. If you know me at all, you know that recording my poetry is so out of my comfort zone. I’m glad I was pushed out of it though because I found something on the outside of where I am comfortable. I found many doors, yet to be unopened. I can’t say what is beyond the doors, but I know I’ll never find out settling on comfort.

Here it is, my first ever recording piece of work along with a dear friend of mine, Kayla Mabry. Our poem, Undivided Attention, Divided Comprehension, in memory of Quamaine.

Enjoy

Undivided Attention, Divided Comprehension

(Kayla) Excuse me while I stand on my soap box for what I believe I’ll SHOUT from the roof tops “NO JUSTICE-NO PEACE” The media’s made sure this has our Undivided attention We’ve all read, seen, and heard it – the problem comes from divided comprehension This isn’t patatoe/patatoe this is human life “I hear what you saying!” BUT YOU’RE NOT READING IT RIGHT If your skin looks like mine, you have no first hand experience If you’re ONLY listening to reply, you’re not really hearing it Now close your mouth, Open your mind put away the twitter fingers this don’t even need a reply Do I have your undivided attention? Because as you continue to listen – The world needs you to comprehend There’s no hidden meaning – IT WAS NEVER SUPPOSED TO BE US AGAINST THEM

(Candice) I hope my words are heard just as clear as the ones spoken before me A black woman speaking her mind, Lord I hope they don’t ignore me Checking my watch cause time is crucial, and I got a lot of shit to say Watching another black brother getting shot in the street is now considered “Just another day” While you’re on THE FENCE, I’m on DEFENSE and I promise it is not the same thing It should not be the norm to read in headlines about the death of another Black King And yes, crime is crime and a wrong is wrong and in that aspect you are right But you mean to tell me if my Black brother has a criminal record the price to pay has to be HIS LIFE And for the mentally unstable who are not able to communicate what is on the mind Should they really be silenced with bullets because they could not comprehend a command when it was given the first time Two men with guns, but only one is killed and not because the other was tougher Two men with guns, only one is killed, simply cause one was a brother You focusing on my anger makes you blind to my pain and in result you’ll never hear my message Why when a white person is passionate it’s deemed okay, but a black person is labeled aggressive There can’t be unity in you and me because we aren’t treated the same You can’t blame the media for racial issues when behind closed doors your hatred remains Listen, I mean really listen. Can you hear the pain dragging on the heels of these words Countless Black brothers, sisters, and even CHILDREN are dead. Don’t you think a little justice is what we deserve? People weighing in on black tragedy, telling us how we should feel when you haven’t a clue on what we’ve endured When all we’ve been trying to say is that black lives matter just as much as yours

just thoughts

to be the inanimate object that resembles your love

the smell of coffee brings back memories of you staying a little longer

what undiscovered treasures live right under our noses

x marked the spot where i met you

and your hand brushed against mine

time-there’s never enough

or maybe there’s too much

the ocean lives in your eyes

and not a day passes by that i don’t want to dive into you

and not a day goes by that i don’t drown in all that you are

cries of heartache were only described sounds until i met you

something like the scary stories you tell a child to keep them weary of monsters until those very same monsters rob them of their innocence

in a sense i knew you long before i met you

in other ways its like I never knew you at all

x marked the spot where i met you

i fear ex will mark the spot where we fall

An Angels Ascent

If tears must fall let them not be for granted, let them be in celebration

For my body no longer stumbles through dark valleys, there are no more complications

My soul lies in these o so green pastures, at the very top of the hill

I am where the waves no longer crash but instead where the waters are still

Let our memories dismantle your anger

Let our love console your grief

Let our laughs keep you warm at night

And that is what will bring me peace

Focus not on the battle I lost there, but on the war I won here

And though my eyes have closed, the world has never been so clear

The sky has never been so blue

The earth has never felt so soft

Think of me as the angel you’ve gained, not the loved one you lost

When you miss me call on your Father

Pour into him your overflow of me

Think not about what we missed

But be filled on what we did see

As these clouds begin to open and I begin to soar

Know that these wings carry me comfortably 

And I am in pain, no more

death.

Death came knocking at my door again

No, not for me

But still it came, uninvited and unwanted

Unexpected

As it had come so many times before, I knew it’s knock

A knock you never expect until it is already pounding at your doorstep

Catapulting you into a reality that no matter how many times you’ve been before, still it takes your breath away

We are on a first name basis

No formalities

Candice, you know the drill

There I stand in NOT sadness, but pure hatred

You sick son of a bitch

When will it be my turn

Why do you insist I be in your audience only to witness your disgusting performance

The screams I am begging to stay buried leave no room for grief

I am angry

I am livid

Is this your idea of grief

Is this a part of your sick and twisted humor

All emotions but the one I need

Angry because I’m guilty

Guilt that my anger leaves no room to grieve

Lonely because I refuse to be consoled

And in this toxic circle there I sit

Bargaining with death

But he’s already gone

Just as quick as he came, he left even quicker

Leaving me with nothing but our memories and the future plans we made

He didn’t come for me but I feel him all the same

silenced

I can think of everything i want to say to you

But come the time and i can not write it

Words unheard, thrown to the curb

Seems my soul has been silenced

Look in my eyes and you’ll see the signs

Promise they will guide you right in

Listen for the skipped beats of my heart

And no doubt you’ll find what I’ve been hiding

In a field full of red roses

I am black and wilted

I’ve been here a while so I hang low but still I try to get your attention

Pick me, I want to scream

But my pride won’t step aside

If you could just look past my missing petals

I swear I’m beautiful deep down inside

No hidden thorns

No buried secrets

Just longing to be grabbed by my roots

Hundreds of hands have touched them

But none of them were you

What do I do

Words have failed me

And words were all that I had left

A silenced soul nourishes nothing

But a love on its last breath

And in those final moments

Still I’ll say all is well

A love lost in words unspoken

Another story I’ll never tell