Self-reflection is a powerful tool. Lately, I’ve realized that maybe I’ve been too critical of others’ actions, and perhaps my attempts to help haven’t always landed well. Instead of controlling situations, I want to be more supportive. My desire to help shouldn’t come at the cost of respecting boundaries. While helping is important, learning from past experiences will help me offer support more effectively. I’ll continue to lend a hand, but with a more open mind and less judgment.
The walls we build, of thought and stone, To keep the world familiar, known. But truths untold may lie outside, In paths we dare not open wide.
The tongue that’s quick to judge and scorn, Misses the wisdom newly born. For every path, however strange, Holds beauty in a different range.
Let down the bars of black and white, Embrace the spectrum, shining bright. A melody with notes unknown, Can paint a world yet to be shown.
Respect the choices, though unlike, For in that difference, hearts ignite. A tapestry of lives entwined, Strength in the threads, of every kind.
So open ears, and open mind, Let understanding be entwined. For in the garden, blooms so bright, Each flower adds its unique light.
Social media can be tough. Being unfriended can trigger anxiety, especially when making friends feels challenging. I sometimes feel awkward, and my children have mentioned autism, though it wasn’t well-understood when I was growing up (80s and 90s).
Recently, someone I rarely spoke to blocked me. The reason, “told a lot,” is unclear. Who’s gossiping? It’s tempting to dwell on it, but focusing on trust is more helpful.
My mental health has improved significantly over the past year. While trust can be difficult, I believe in showing kindness and love. It’s hard at times, my mind races with worry, but fear won’t control me.f
Making My Way
Anxiety whispers, a familiar tune, Someone unfriended, feels out of moon. Making friends, a challenge it’s true, But I’m learning, and that’s something new.
Kids mentioned autism, a different time, The 80s and 90s, when awareness wasn’t prime. Regardless of labels, I’m growing each day, Mental health journey, leading a better way.
This person who blocked me, we barely spoke, Their reason unclear, a broken smoke. Who gossiped? It’s tempting to chase, But focusing on trust will set a good pace.
Love and kindness, my guiding light, Be the bigger person, even in the night. It’s hard, thoughts race, a whirlwind it seems, But fear won’t control me, chasing better dreams.
Whispers on the wind, a name they twist and turn, A story spun of malice, a character to burn. Faces I haven’t met, ears that catch the fray, A web of twisted truths to paint me in decay.
It stings, a phantom touch, a doubt they plant within, But anger turns to sorrow, for where does this begin? A jealousy, a grudge, a need to make me fall? Confused and hurt, I stand unseen, unheard by all.
The truth, a fragile flame, might flicker in the breeze, But time will be the witness, to set my spirit free. I hold my head up high, though whispers fill the air, My actions speak for me, the kind heart I still bear.
For lies have short-lived power, they crumble in the light, While honesty and kindness, forever burn so bright. So let them weave their tales, I’ll hold my course with grace, The truth will find its harbor, on a trusting, honest face.
The path we walk, a winding road, With companions, a merry load. We laugh, we share, secrets untold, But sometimes, friendships turn to cold.
Miles we travel, diverge and bend, Dreams we chase may have no end. New horizons, some yearn to see, Leaving footprints where they used to be.
It’s not a failing, a flaw within, Just life’s grand dance, a constant spin. Bonds may loosen, some fade from sight, But hold the memories, warm and bright.
New connections, yet to unfold, Stories waiting, brave and bold. Embrace the change, the ebb and flow, Friendships blossom, some come and go.
There’s no blame in hearts that roam, Growth requires a space to call your own. So let them fly, on wings unfurled, And know true friendships bless the world.
Grieve the loss, then mend your heart, New chapters wait, a brand new start. There’s nothing wrong, it’s simply true, Lifelong friends may come in twos, but none for me.
The day unwinds, a weary sigh, Muscles tense, a troubled eye. But wait, a haven, warm and bright, A steamy cloud, a cleansing light.
The faucet turns, a gentle hiss, A symphony of water’s kiss. On skin it falls, a soft embrace, Washing worries from each face.
The steam ascends, a fragrant plume, Lavender whispers in the room. Scents of calm, a soothing balm, Chasing stress in gentle squall.
Warmth seeps deep, a melting tide, Melting tension, nowhere to hide. Knots untangle, muscles sigh, Replaced by peace, a gentle sigh.
Water dances, light and free, Washing cares all down to sea. A mental cleanse, a weightless dream, In this warm haven, worries seem
To fade and blur, like distant rain, Leaving only sweet refrain. A moment stolen, just for me, The simple joy of being free.
So step inside, and let it flow, This cleansing dance, this gentle show. The world can wait, its troubles cease, For in this shower, there’s only peace.
I write a lot of poems about my mental health. It’s a topic that has been taboo for a long time, but it shouldn’t be. I experience bipolar disorder, and while my ups and downs are shorter than some people with the condition (lasting a few days to a week), they can be very intense. Last night, I had a really bad panic attack, the worst one I’ve had in a long time. Even now, I feel a bit on edge, though not as severely as last night. This is why I like sharing these things about my life: to normalize mental health experiences. By opening up, hopefully others who struggle will feel empowered to seek help and connect with others who understand.
Walls tighten, a vise in disguise, Air thins, a thief in the night. My chest constricts, a cage for a prize, Each breath a desperate fight.
The world shrinks, a tunnel too small, Sounds distort in a deafening hum. Thoughts race, a maddening squall, Leaving reason numb.
Fingers claw, grasping at air, A primal need, a desperate plea. Stars prick my vision, a frightening flare, Is this the end of me?
But a voice, faint in the storm, Whispers, “Slow down, you’ll be alright.” A mantra repeated, a weathered norm, To pull myself back from the night.
Muscles relax, their grip starts to ease, A shuddering sigh, a sliver of peace. The world unfurls by gentle degrees, And the terror begins to cease.
Fragile and shaky, the moment recedes, Leaving behind an exhaustion profound. But the memory lingers, a whisper it seeds, A battleground, hard-fought, yet unbound.
Venting is what they call it. But you can’t vent to anyone. When you are upset, they get mad. Even if you are not mad at them, They won’t let you vent.
The truth is, you can’t trust anyone. The moment you say something to someone, They spread it around. Especially to the person you are complaining about. Sometimes you just need to get your feelings out, But who do you trust?
Those you thought were your friends, Will betray you to others. Those you thought you can trust, Will turn on you when someone better comes along.
Venting is a horrible thing. Never say anything to anyone. Keep your thoughts to yourself. If you have nothing nice to say, Don’t say anything.
The curtain falls, the act is done, No more applause, I won’t be won By tangled threads of he said, she said, A chorus sung where reason’s fled.
My heart, a stage once grand and wide, Now craves the peace where troubles hide. No space remains for whispered fights, Or battles waged in flickering lights.
I close the door on endless scenes, Of broken trust and shattered means. My path unfolds, a winding way, Where sunlight streams and shadows play.
Let others chase their frantic play, I’ll find my solace, come what may. For in this quiet, I shall bloom, Unburdened by another’s gloom.
For a month now, a fire’s been burning in my gut. There’s something I need to say, especially to warn women, but wrestling with my own emotions has held me back. Here’s the thing: we’ve all heard it – listen to your body. Doctors might brush you off, but you know when something feels wrong. It’s your body, after all.
After my son was born, I expected some bleeding – it’s natural. It stopped for a while, but then started again. I wasn’t sure if this was normal postpartum bleeding or something else, so I decided to err on the side of caution.
My primary care doctor listened to my concerns about renewed bleeding after my son’s birth. They explained that since the bleeding stopped previously and didn’t feel like a period, it wasn’t likely related to postpartum recovery. Because the bleeding occurred only during bowel movements, they referred me to a gastroenterologist for further evaluation.
The colonoscopy revealed a number of polyps. They were removed and tested, with some showing precancerous signs, meaning they had the potential to become cancerous over time. This meant I needed regular colonoscopies to monitor my health.
This experience taught me a valuable lesson: listen to your body. If something feels off, don’t hesitate to talk to your doctor. And if they don’t take your concerns seriously, find a new doctor who will be your advocate.
A few years later, I noticed my menstrual periods were heavier than usual. Concerned, I made an appointment with my gynecologist. They explained that while having three C-sections can sometimes thicken the uterine lining, it wasn’t necessarily the cause of my heavy bleeding. To investigate further, they recommended an endometrial biopsy. It wasn’t as comfortable as a pap smear (which can cause some stinging), but it was a manageable procedure. The biopsy is a test where a small tissue sample is taken from the lining of the uterus to diagnose abnormalities. Thankfully, everything came back normal, a huge relief.
Adding to this, I also underwent genetic testing since my mother sadly passed away from ovarian cancer when I was just 11. Thankfully, the test results were negative, indicating I didn’t carry the gene mutation. However, after a few years and a move, I needed a new gynecologist. When I explained my history, including my heavier periods and approaching menopause, she suggested an oophorectomy (ovary removal). While the benefits are generally good, she acknowledged that negative genetic tests aren’t foolproof. A positive test indicates the presence of the gene, but a negative result doesn’t necessarily guarantee its absence.
The genetic test results were again negative, but this time with a higher risk score. This score indicates a slightly elevated risk compared to the average population. It doesn’t necessarily mean I have the gene mutation, but it allowed my doctor to justify the procedure to my insurance company and secure coverage for an oophorectomy (ovary removal).
While the necessity of justifying a medical procedure to an insurance company can be frustrating, that’s a discussion for another time.
I have an upcoming surgery in June to address a mass discovered in my uterus during a recent ultrasound. Doctors won’t know for sure what the mass is until it’s removed. Initially, my doctor recommended removing both my ovaries and the mass itself (oophrectomy with mass removal).
We also discussed a full hysterectomy, which would remove the uterus, cervix, and fallopian tubes. This option would eliminate any future concerns about the mass or other potential growths in the uterus. After careful consideration, I decided to proceed with the full hysterectomy.
I don’t talk to anyone who knew my mom, for their reasons, not mine. I don’t know what she went through as I was so young. I don’t know how she truly felt about the signs she had, only the visible ones. I know I am making the right decision, but it still scares me. The recovery is going to be about two months, which is why I scheduled it for the summer since I am a teacher, but still.
Right now I am just nervous while relieved I found this out now rather than later.
A Hidden Blight
Steel butterflies flutter in my chest, Wings cold and sharp, a nervous guest. June looms, a date etched sharp and clear, Surgery’s shadow, ever near.
A mass unknown, a whispered fright, My body’s map, a hidden blight. Ovaries, uterus, the choice unfolds, A path of loss, a story untold.
My mother’s journey, veiled in mist, A silent echo I can’t resist. Was she afraid? Did tremors shake, When faced with choices for her sake?
The scalpel’s glint, a sterile gleam, A stolen future, a waking dream. Recovery’s road, a weary climb, But hope remains, a flickering rhyme.
For health’s embrace, a price I’ll pay, Though fear still whispers in the gray. This body, tested, will mend anew.
