crying alone
Alone, tears on my pillow
soaked through to my soul
doesn’t seem to matter much
if someone is lying next to me
I still feel hallow inside
Wetness on a torn piece on paper
index finger outlines emotions within
eyes focus on emptiness, I see nothing at all
it’s the same every day and night
suicide races through my mind
The stopping of my heart
words written on the shred of reality
a life that wishes merely to die
the weeping never seems to end
afterlife to me could be a start
I ponder regularly of death
of closing my wet lashes
and finally cease to exist
where I am no longer apprehensive
I solely hunger for my life to conclude
SEG
*Most of the poetry posted on my website was written during my teens and twenties. There are a few exceptions but typically I find myself wanting to journal regularly and write poetry if inspired. Poetry has been my therapist during many trying times. I have decided to post these poems because it reflects my history with suicidal depression and the struggles I encountered trying to cope with life and depression.








will write about aspects of Ketamine that you may want to reject. You may think it is great that it works for me but you are different. Am I correct? I know I had these same exact thoughts. The people that were helped with Ketamine are lucky. I won’t be that fortunate. I am sure I have suffered too long to be helped. I bet those helped didn’t have “my kind of depression”. I had all the defenses, and mistrust I have grown to feel when approaching new treatments. As I have stated before and want to impress upon anyone reading now is I was at my end. No light on inside. I know from reading my journals that I didn’t have high hopes for Ketamine. I stayed around and fought for my family. If there was something that could help, didn’t I owe it to them to try it? It was not an easy endeavor. I was profoundly depressed and so angry about it. I write now and my feelings about the future are positive. I guess I worry that a depressed individual may blow me off because it seems so far fetched. I know, I had these thoughts. My family did so much research and were so hopeful that this treatment would work for me. I think they had to believe that because they knew I had basically checked out and was just playing the waiting game. I think I didn’t believe it would help me. I felt nothing would because the fact is nothing ever did. I couldn’t get my hopes up like my therapist and husband were. It is important to me to have you realize how far from the sun I was. I had been for years. I know now my depression
was always present. It just manifested itself in a variety of different ways. I have used many crutches over the years to combat my illness; without success. I was fighting off depression with running shortly before my most recent break and hospitalizations. I was training for a marathon, and my body betrayed me. I ignored it. I needed to run. I was being chased by the demon. I couldn’t seem to run fast enough or long enough. I would run when I was broken because I knew what was in store for me if Satan out ran me. The evils of depression go beyond any will power you think should kill it. I have lost so many, many things and people because I was ashamed of my mental illness and would go into hiding when the symptoms were at their worst. Many of my observations have been years in the making and others I found with the help of Ketamine. Depression is an insidious disease. It will steal everything from you. It will make life unbearable. It makes suicide seem rational. It embeds itself deep within and suffocates you in a world others can’t see. It painfully kidnaps you and leaves behind only a shell of who you once were. I was on my last breath. Ketamine turned out to be my oxygen. It forced air in, so to speak, and loosened the grip that bastard depression had on me. I was reviewing my journals and they saddened me. I have experienced much personal growth since my journey began. I recognize the girl
that wrote the words spread across the pages of my journals, but I am not her. Thankfully. I still find myself angry that I didn’t discover Ketamine sooner. I am trying to accept that I found Ketamine when I did. I think I will be way ahead of the game when I accept and embrace my diagnoses. I have spent a great deal of my life denying my illness to others. I didn’t want to appear weak. I didn’t want to be labeled and judged. I still don’t. I do know that if we don’t start discussing it more freely without the fear of repercussions, more will suffer in silence. It is a raw subject and just slightly intimate which frightens the general population. People don’t want to discuss illnesses they can’t see. I want people to understand the true severity of mental illnesses. It is just so cruelly debilitating. We need to realize we have a voice. We need to be heard.
ken of in our home. Matthew was taking a research class at the time and decided to write his semester paper on Ketamine. He was then invited to present his finding at the Undergraduate Research Opportunities Program’s yearly presentations. It was all so exciting and fascinating. Matthew’s
terested I have linked his 











