voices
Why do the voices within me want me to die?
the voices tell me that if people really cared
they would find the time, but they have no time for me
because the phone the phone never rings
why when they told me they’d be there?
The devastation that I feel means
little or nothing to any of them
I’m scared, alone and so depressed
no place for freedom or peace of mind
will these feelings of loneliness ever end?
It seems that I can’t get the voices to just disappear
I struggle daily to silence them but in the end they reappear
I know that I need help and lots of support from somewhere
won’t you assist me and show me the way to healthy thinking?
I want to be held so tight that I can locate the power inside
I wish I could have the desire to continue to live
if I could only allow someone to get that close to me
oh, if I could only trust someone enough to stay
yet I find myself frighten to be that open to anyone
it leaves me with the feeling I have no place to call home.
The voices in my head tell me no one would care if I vanished
acquaintances that have tried to rearrange my life
but they never had my interest at heart only their own
which only made everything indirectly so much worse
Plenty of ammunition to draw upon.
nothing is ever good enough to heal my wounds
I wonder will I ever succeed and get better mentally
or will it just end with a sad letter to those I know
saying I couldn’t cope with my mental illness
the feelings never ease up,
the power, courage and desire
I couldn’t locate any of them in time
in order to grasp on to life
so I let go
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.
During the weeks leading up to our appointment we were texting ideas to each other regularly. My husband sent me a text suggesting I might incorporated the 
and wanted the Ketamine above the semicolon to show that it was Ketamine that started up my life again. I had to show that with the beat beginning after the semicolon. Vanis nailed my ideas.
It is difficult to see in the photos I am posting and I plan to update later with more professional appearing images. These pictures were taken the day of our tattoos from our phones.
I am aware and can acknowledge these perceptions I have of myself and how they affect my interpretation of the world around me. The variety of pills I have been prescribed over the years have definitely placed brick walls in my way.
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 
