Soul Sharing - Cutting Words

Walkthrough of "Cutting Words"

Why do I let words hurt me

More than these cuts and bruises

I bleed and bruise

Because I choose

To control some hurt

Make all else feel inert

There are so many reasons why people cut themselves or other forms of self-harming. One major reason is for control. You don't hurt yourself because your life is so great. You hurt yourself because you're already hurting and you can't control it. When you inflict pain upon yourself, you finally have control. How much pain. What kind of pain. To start and stop the pain. And the current pain, even if it's just temporary, makes you forget all the other pain in your life.

Why do I seek approval 

When I don’t approve of myself

I need to be wanted

Because I am haunted

Of being alone enough

That suicide won’t be a bluff

Cover up with sleeves to hide the scars even in the summer. When you're that depressed, you need to find comfort in other people. And if you don't then who knows what you might do on this path alone.

Why am I jealous of friendships

When I know that they all have to end

I know everyone leaves

Taking my treasure like thieves 

The only thing I desire

Is to not fall for another liar

When you rely on others for your sanity, you usually need them more than they need you. You tend to take everything personally and everything hurts more when it doesn't work out. It feels like they're stealing your happiness when they leave because they are your only source of happiness. And that makes it harder to open up to new friends since you're afraid of going through that painful process again.

Why do I feel a need to bleed

When I know I won’t live much longer

I live from day to day

Not knowing what to say

If anything at all

How badly I want to fall

Self-harming isn't the same thing as being suicidal. You might feel like you're in so much pain that you want to die. But you don't really want to die. You want to get better, but you don't know how. The only way you know to keep going is to self-harm. It's a way of self-medicating. It's a temporary solution that gets you to the next day. Well, it's not really a solution since it doesn't address the problem and because of that self-harming on its own will not get you to a place of healing. Without talking or working out the problem in a healthier way, you might just get to the point where you do want to die.

Picture Poem Project Please

I'm now accepting more submissions for my picture poem project! Send me a picture via email at hashtaghashtagnofilter@gmail.com or vie Facebook message me on my Facebook Page with some keywords or themes you would like me to incorporate into the poem. See my growing gallery here for examples of what it will look like. And with more submissions I can keep updating the Picture Poem of the Week on the side of my blog, and if you would like I can link it to your website, Facebook page, or whatever you want.

How TV Saved Me: Tune in to find out (part 1)

I always felt different. Too different. I had so many secrets but no one to share them with. No one I trusted. I don’t think I knew more than a hundred people until I left for NYC. I think I’ve more than tripled the number of Facebook friends in just these three or four years of college. So my only outlet pre-internet/social media boom, was tv shows. But back then they still didn’t have a lot a diversity. There was no one I could really relate to. So what I have to say in this post might sound completely stupid, but this is how TV saved my life.

So by now you know I was suicidal since I was about 11 and entering the 6th grade. TV was my life. The life I wanted. The life I couldn’t have. TV was my escape from this miserable reality. I still kept up with whatever superheroes shows were on. I think Teen Titans was still big and Smallville was in its prime. But I was also totally a Disney kid. If it was on Disney, I wanted to watch it. Same with Nickelodeon. I also watched a lot of (probably too much) detective murder mystery shows. Now like I said this was before Netflix had online streaming. You know when Blockbuster was still big (if you’re old enough to remember that; damn I’m getting old). Anyways you had to wait a week and stay tuned at that “same Bat-time” on that same “Bat-channel” if you wanted to see the next episode. If you missed it, that was it. You had to wait for the right re-run if you wanted to catch up (so archaic and medieval, right?). Before the DVR we used a VCR with tapes that you had to rewind to watch or else you’ll run out of tape, and then there was the danger of recording over something you haven’t watched yet.

Ok so here’s where you might start judging me.

Artistic Tips: Stream of Consciousness

Stream of consciousness is just free writing. Writing without thinking. Thoughts. Feelings. Put into words. Not necessarily complete thoughts. Just ideas that flow together. One thing leads to another like links in a chain. Not all are created equal. Some are strong and hold. Other are weak and break off. It might not make sense to anyone else, but it still creates a picture. It's a raw, pure form of poetry extremely open to interpretation. It doesn't have to rhyme, but it helps it flow better.

Scars remain

I remember the pain

The blood stain

The pouring rain

The smiles I feign

The fears that reign

Good old memory lane

Feeling insane

Shackles, the mental chains

The beating of the cane

Alone against the grain

The nightmare bane

The energy wane

Emotions drain

The burdens I retain

Artistic Tips - More internal poetic devices

Here's a quick glossary of poetic devices you can use within a line.
Internal Rhyme: words that have the same ending sound that's not part of the line-ending rhyme scheme
Alliteration: a group of words strung together with the same beginning sound (constant or vowel)
note: beginning with the same letters does not guarantee alliteration
Assonance: a group of words with the same vowel sound anywhere in the words
Consonance: a group of words with the same constant sounds anywhere in the words

(I'll make a video for this eventually although it might not be until after I graduate.)

Poetry - Scars Remain

Scars remain

I remember the pain

The blood stain

The pouring rain

The smiles I feign

The fears that reign

Good old memory lane

Feeling insane

Shackles, the mental chains

The beating of the cane

Alone against the grain

The nightmare bane

The energy wane

Emotions drain

The burdens I retain

Poetry - Cutting Words

Why do I let words hurt me

More than these cuts and bruises

I bleed and bruise

Because I choose

To control some hurt

Make all else feel inert 

Why do I seek approval 

When I don’t approve of myself

I need to be wanted

Because I am haunted

Of being alone enough

That suicide won’t be a bluff

Why am I jealous of friendships

When I know that they all have to end

I know everyone leaves

Taking my treasure like thieves 

The only thing I desire

Is to not fall for another liar

Why do I feel a need to bleed

When I know I won’t live much longer

I live from day to day

Not knowing what to say

If anything at all

How badly I want to fall

Life Before and After A Suicide Attempt

Although I think suicide is the most important struggle since it's permanent and it's also what I used poetry to help me process the most, I decided not to lead with it but instead some of the major contributing factors for me. I don't think someone commits or attempts to commit suicide for just one reason. I didn't try to kill myself just because I was stuck in a massive depressive episode for years. I didn't try to kill myself just because I was gay and that wasn't acceptable in the Christian environment I was trapped in. I didn't just try to kill myself because I didn't feel like I could ever be the man I was "supposed to be." Yes, all those things pushed me closer to the edge, pushed the knife a little deeper. But after all that I tried to kill myself because of society and not just the one I locally lived in. I was 11 and I didn't want to grow up to be a teenager because teenagers are idiots. I should know now that I've crossed that bridge recently. But I saw them on TV, in books, in my life, (I'd say in movies but I wasn't allowed to go to those), and I so desperately did not want to be one of those. Aside from the aforementioned, I had lived as great a life an eleven-year-old could live. I was fully content with dying and escaping the future torment. But I'm here now so that obviously didn't work out. Before I knew it I was a godforsaken teenager. Puberty, honestly, wasn't that big of a deal for me. It hit me rather early for a guy and I was like ok. The hard part was that I was like ok I like guys, how do I stop? I had a couple best friends who I called my Lights. As long as I was around one of them I was ok. But at night the depression hit hard and fast. And unless you're familiar with that level of depression, it's too hard to explain in any way that isn't a face to face conversation. But one by one my Lights went out for different reasons. But by then I was already almost done with being a teenager. And I had become the monster I was trying so drastically to avoid. I had lost most of my innocence, not that any of us are innocent to begin with. I decided my freshman year of high school that I had to get as far from this homophobic environment as possible and as fast as possible. And I was too afraid to ask my parents to let me go to a public school, and I couldn't even play the financial card since my mom worked at the school so it was practically free. I honestly just wanted a place to get away from the same people I knew since I was 5 and saw six days a week none of whom I could trust. And yes, I was hoping to meet a cute guy or any non-hetero so I knew I wasn't alone. Because I don't know what's lonelier than being the only inmate living in a prison with no bars surrounded by wardens who preach love but would hate me if they knew who I had a crush on. So if I was going to be stuck in this system till I graduated, I might as well move up my release date. And who needs a sophomore year of high school anyways. I'd make a joke about a "wise fool" but that's etymologically incorrect.

Remember when I went to a mental hospital?

Therapy Tactics: Suicide Triggers

Dear Friends and Family of loved ones who are suicidal,

So I'm 21 now and have had about a decade of consistently thinking about suicide so I have some advice to tell you on how not to treat people who might be contemplating suicide which could be anyone so really this is how not to treat people.

1. Suicide is selfish - I was thinking I would remove the burden that is me from this godforsaken world. I was thinking a funeral would be cheaper than a mouth to feed daily. Give my food to those starving children you use to guilt us to eating our vegetables. I actually wrote in one of my suicide notes that I don't want a funeral. Not that I had much at 11, but to give everything I have to charity. I don't want to be remembered. It would have just been easier if I were never born. I never asked for life.

2. Suicide is a mortal sin - I'm not a theologian but I think that goes against Once Saved Always Saved and it's saying that we can do something so bad even God can't forgive us. Is jumping on a grenade to save others a mortal sin or a heroic act? It's suicide by definition of intentionally killing oneself.

3. Suicide is an irrational and hasty action - Sometimes it is. Sometimes it's not. Suicide notes are a clear sign that the person has been thinking about it for some time. I was 11 so it would be easy to assume that I wasn't thinking or didn't really know what I was doing. But I did. I thought about it for months. It consumed my waking thoughts. Haunted my dreams. Like I said in the first point I had a written quite a few suicide notes before I lost track of how many times I attempted. Humans are amazing at rationalizing what others perceive as irrational. We have many reasons for most things we do even if other people don't understand them.

4. Suicide jokes - Just don't. It minimizes our pain, past or present. You're laughing at us. And the closer you are to us especially if you know, the harder you're shoving us to the edge even if we've made it a decade away from that edge.

5. Never ever ever tell someone to go kill themselves - We might just do it. We might just be waiting for someone to push us over a line we couldn't bring ourselves to cross.

6. Don't make it taboo - If you don't make it a safe place to talk, then we're not going to talk and for me writing was enough to get me by but we all don't have those outlets and they're never a perfect substitute to genuine human loving and understanding connections.

7. Never ever shame anyone for it - Making depressed people feel bad about themselves is like handing us a knife and telling us which way to cut.

These are all things I've personally experienced people say. Not all of them directed to me, and none of them aware of my situation.

Behind the Poem - Suicide Triggers

"Suicide Triggers"
Trigger Warning? Where do I start?
It gets better, but it never stops.
What I write; my whole life Is not for the faint of heart.

I’m a fan of starting the writing process with phrases like “where do I start” or “what am I doing.” I sort of got it from a Relient K song that starts with “Should I start this song off with a question?” And I’m a huge fan of Relient K and I’m sure they influenced a lot of my work subconsciously, and I enjoy writing parodies of their work. Ok but psychologically that kind of phrasing places the reader into a similar mind set as the writer. And “it gets better” is a pretty popular phrase from the campaign It Gets Better Project which actually personally helped me a lot seeing all those celebrities (some of whom I’ve crushed on) standing up and reaching out a hand to people like me. And along with the trigger warning theme from the title and first words is that the story I’m writing about my life isn’t for everyone. Some people who might be struggling could have a negative reaction (a trigger) and that’s the last thing I want. So please be aware of your situation when you’re reading or that of anyone who you might point towards my work.

The knife stopped twisting, but the scars remain,
On my arms, my heart and my mind.
They heal but I still feel Every cut every pain.

Yeah, I cut a lot and still have a lot of scars, but not all of them are physical or visible. My heart, both the stress on my body and my ability to connect with other people. My mind, well that’s where the triggers are involved.

Soul Sharing - Suicide Triggers

So this topic is really the heart of this blog. This specifically is why I decided to blog. There really just isn't anything much available to help with dealing after suicide attempts. So I decided to use my story to put something out there for others like me. 

So the biggest suicide trigger was a couple months ago watching tv. Basically there was a girl (middle school age?) who threatened and attempted suicide, and then when confronted admitted it. “Sometimes I just want to die.” It just hit me so hard. That was exactly how I felt at around that age. But when I threatened, no one took me seriously. Suicide has a way of blindsiding everyone. People don’t notice the signs because they either don’t know what they are or chose to ignore them because “So-and-So would never do that.” Well, I was certainly the last person you would expect to be suicidal at such a young age and for so many years consistently, and I guess I am really good at hiding everything really well. No one knew I was cutting everyday and night for a year or so, and in places more visible than my arms. But that’s another story for next week's topic of self-harming. This one is really about dealing with triggers. Triggers are anything that brings back all that pain so you feel like you’re experiencing it all over again. It’s a more common term for things like Post Traumatic Stress Disorder or any type of assault. 

But really triggers could be for anything. And if you are recovering from something more serious, then it’s very important to know your triggers and how to avoid them and cope with them the best way possible. And again that’s going to vary from person to person. But tv scenes like the one I described are one of my more common triggers. I’m not going to stop watching tv to avoid any possible trigger. That would be letting the trigger win. Sometimes you just have to confront it in a controlled environment. It helps for me to be alone and just cry it out. When something this heavy hits me so fast, everything kind of stops. I get disoriented and I fall onto my knees or curl up into a ball. I’ve learned not to fight it, but let it run its course. Usually for few seconds to a few minutes, but in the past it could have been hours. The more I would try to fight it or deny it, the more I would think about it. Crying is very therapeutic. I’ve cried many times until I ran out of tears, and then cried some more. As a guy who was never really very masculine, I felt like I had to train myself to not cry in front of people so if I was with people or in a crowded place, I’d run to the bathroom or just leave and walk it off. 

So that's my summary of suicide triggers. I'm constantly reminded about suicide, but I'm not suicidal anymore. I don't think about killing myself. I remember having tried to kill myself. And sometimes it's a shock to my system. Attempting suicide is a traumatic experience that I just have to find a way to live with. In the next post I'll walk through the poem and the specifics stories behind the lines.

Picture Poem - Only a Tattoo

Photo by Beckah Jackman

Poem by David Wright

"Only a Tattoo"

I locked my heart and gave you the only key

The torch of our love is the the only light I need to see

The touch of time only tests our relationship

The canvas of our love only grows as time tightens its grip

It’s only a tattoo

It’s only a symbol of how much time I spent with you

Artistic Tips - Internal Rhymes and Irregular Lines

There's a lot more to say on this poem in the Soul and Therapy sections, but every poem is also an example to learn different styles and techniques. In this poem I use internal rhymes to make up for irregular line length.

This poem is written in tercets with an ABA rhyme scheme and no particular meter. (There might be one I used subconsciously. If you can figure it out, let me know! Refer back to some of the earlier Artistic Tips to help you identify and count meter.) 

The seemingly random capitalization in the last line of every stanza indicates where it could be a line-break making it a quatrain. I chose not to do that because I didn't like the rhyme scheme of ABCA and that with most of the stanza the line lengths would look incredible irregular. People often say that poetry should be focused on sound and rhythm because it's meant to be spoken. I highly disagree.

Imaginary Self - Who Am I? (Part 3)

As I left off in part 2, when I was little I wanted to be a prince. This was the start of my imagination adventures that I still go on to escape the boredom of reality. It's why I have always seemed so content in silence and so patient. I never really had imaginary friends. I had an imaginary reality that I entered to entertain myself. And it was all in my head, I didn't tell anyone or verbalized the dialogue running through my mind like I was directing and acting in a tv show. So I could be getting a haircut or just sitting on the floor staring at unplugged fan and no one would know that I had left this reality. The only physical thing I really did was use my two fingers to run as my characters were moving. For this post I'm going to psychoanalyze my four-year-old-self and see how this fictional world I created reflected one of the fundamental aspects of my personality and how that made me vulnerable to depressing and suicidal thoughts.

So the first character I created was named Silver. He was a prince with yet-to-be defined magical powers and his weapon was a whip. But instead of this being my imaginary friend, he was my idealized self.

Poetry - Suicide Triggers

Trigger Warning? Where do I start?

It gets better, but it never stops.

What I write; my whole life Is not for the faint of heart.

The knife stopped twisting, but the scars remain,

On my arms, my heart and my mind.

They heal but I still feel Every cut, every pain.

I don’t remember how many suicide attempts I’ve survived

Except that it was my favorite after school activity

From eleven to seventeen Poison laces any memories revived.

Suicidal memories have replaced suicidal thoughts.

It’s Russian roulette without a bullet.

There’s no pill for this ill but No Demons to be fought.

The trigger gets pulled and I fall to my knees.

Can’t breathe. Clutching my heart. Cloudy mind. Numb.

These tears are for fears That will never escape me.

Life progresses in either fast forward or slow motion,

Like life is passing by as reality constantly shifts

Triggering torment that I can’t forget Causing a caustic nauseous notion.

How the hell am I suppose to live with myself everyday

When the man in the mirror was my past potential killer?

I forgave him to save him But now what are we suppose to say?

It was Faith and fellowship that pulled me through

The proverbial fire that was my personal hell,

But it’s Grace and faces That pull my triggers too.

As much as I want to, I can never forget 

All my short comings, how far I’ve fallen;

It’s combined with how high I’ve climbed It’s a problematic set.

So anything can be my trigger at any time. 

I’m still learning how to cope with this post traumatic stress,

But every day proves another way That I can survive.

7 Reasons People Attempt Suicide

1. Pressure. To be perfect whether from personal goals/desires, to impress loved ones, or to keep up with society, school, or work.
2. Bullying. For different in any way from LGBTQ+ to race/ethnicity to religion
3. Low Self-Esteem. Feeling worthless or useless. Feeling like a burden with nothing to offer.
4. Depression. From mental illness or circumstances.
5. Escape. To be free from unbearable pain whether physical, emotional, or mental.
6. Loneliness. No support from friends or family. No one else to live for.
7. Abuse. Physical or emotional abuse at home or anywhere; past, present, or fear of future abuse 

The 7 Suicide Songs Poem correlate roughly to these 7 reasons but with overlapping issues because there's almost never just one thing that makes you try to kill yourself.

5 Statistic on Teen Suicides

1. Suicide is the 2nd leading cause of death for ages 10-24
2. More teenagers and young adults die from suicide than cancer, heart disease, AIDS, birth defects, stroke, pneumonia, influenza, and chronic long disease combined
3. Every day there are an average of over 5,400 attempt by kids in grades 7-12
4. Four out of five teens who attempt suicide have given clear warning signs (that's 80%)
5. Females attempt suicide more than three times as often as males; but males die by suicide more than four times as often as females

Statistics found at the Jason Foundation from the 2013 CDC reports.

For more statistics on suicide in general with graphs and stuff check out the American Foundation for Suicide Prevention.

Suicide Songs: Saturday

Saturday was Sally’s one year anniversary 

From when Sally was rescued from the most perverse adversity.

Sally was twelve when she ran away

Thirteen when she was pimped out every day.

Four, five, maybe six men a night

Sally was too drugged up to remember or to put up a fight.

By seventeen Sally was her captors’ best selling product.

Sally graduated to the busy streets earning quite the profit. 

Eight high-end regular clients from all walks of life.

Sally walked away wondering how many of them had wives.

“9-1-1, what’s your emergency?”

Ten minutes later Sally barely survived her insurgency.

Eleven hours later she woke up handcuffed to a hospital bed.

Sally was arrested for prostitution. A teenager who was barely fed.

Charges were dropped and Sally was released onto the streets.

After twelve months with no one to help her get back on her feet,

Sally almost went back to her pimp. The only life she knew.

But the memories were too much so in the next life she sought refuge.

Suicide Songs: Friday

Closing time. Say goodnight. Lock up.

Same routine like every other Friday.

But today was the last check Luke would pick up

Luke told his co-workers he would be ok.

And no one wanted to believe that it was a lie

Twenty-four years doing the same thing every day

Luke had always been too proud to man up and cry

It wasn’t the best job but it was more than decent pay

It was more than a job. It was what he loved. It was his entire life.

He was married to his work so he never bothered to look for a wife.

Money wasn’t the problem. He had a comfy retirement fund.

Finding another job wasn’t the problem. He was well qualified.

But his accident and the damage could never be undone.

Behind a computer at a desk, he knew he would not be satisfied.

So as everyone was leaving from the front door

He took the elevator up. Limped up one last set of stairs

One last check. Felt nothing in his core.

Said goodbye to his love then jumped into the air

Suicide Songs: Thursday

Lucy wasn’t feeling so lucky last Thursday. 

Her friends were no longer jealous of, or interested in her life.

She had everything and then lost everything in just one night.

A handsome husband and two beautiful boys.

Her high school sweetheart. Her pride and joys.

Her reason to smile as she laid down her head. 

Her reasons to wake up early and get out of bed.

Money can’t replace happiness. 

Insurance can’t fix faulty seat-belts.

It can’t cover the cost of the immense pain she felt.

She was drowning in all the paperwork and all her grief 

She was left alone to pick out three coffins of three different sizes

And no one was left to comfort her cries in her crisis

There wasn’t a bottle deep enough to grant her relief

There wasn’t an ocean wide enough to drown her sorrow

But her bathtub was just the right size to forever avoid tomorrow

If she could have had the support to stay afloat for a few more days

She would have discovered on her own that she was too late

It was too late for her boys, but not for her little girl

Suicide Songs: Wednesday

Andrew only walked through the quad on Wednesdays 

It’s the one day his roommate didn’t drag him to the cafe

Wesley was nice enough to Andrew so he had a hard time saying no

He would say he wasn’t hungry but Wes would still insist that he go

But he reluctantly went because he needed Wes to force him to eat

After class they walked around the quad to avoid to the sunny heat

Andrew was too depressed to eat on his own

When he did try, he would vomit before he went home

Next semester Wes had practice on Wednesdays so Andy skipped lunch and cut through the quad 

It was the quickest way to get back to his dorm, but he nervously gave everyone a frantic friendly nod

When he got home, he threw out half of his food so Wes wouldn’t suspect

He left crumbs on his bed and at his desk in case he ever tried to inspect

Andy told Wes he was anorexic and depressed over the break

He was trying to get better but the best he could try was to fake

Wes was nice but he wasn’t enough

Life was getting unbearably tough

Andy wrote a note for his roommate

Left a voicemail telling him to come home late

Locked the door. Said a prayer.

Tied the knot. Kicked the chair.

Suicide Songs: Tuesday

On Tuesday Brittany was teased for the last time.

She had the word slut carved into her arm.

No one ever suspected that she self-harmed.

She wore long sleeves but a short skirt

All the guys thought she was a tease 

And all the girls thought she was  a flirt

She was a virgin, never even kissed a boy

But that didn’t stop the lies that could not be appeased

She said no to the quarterback who tried to use her like a toy

He told everyone she slept with the entire team

And he told her he would rape her if she didn’t agree

She was scared and alone. Her mom was an alcoholic

Her step-dad abusive. Her cuts were simply symbolic,

A physical manifestation of all her emotional pain.

She wasn’t clinically depressed. She was completely sane.

She just cut too deep. 

And fell fast asleep. 

Suicide Songs: Monday

It's Monday afternoon and no one in class notices or cares

That Max isn't there but with a gun from who knows where

He's been attacked and harassed everyday since freshman year

Verbally, physically, emotionally filled with fear

He's seen the videos and read the headlines 

Seems like everyday a star comes out 

Until now it's been enough to get through the day

But the dance on Friday night was their last chance

The bell's about to ring but Max can't relax 

He feels like he's going to have a heart attack

The halls are going to fill and his tears are starting to pour

He's afraid. He's always been afraid here

But he won't be for much longer

In the next moment he feels a little stronger 

Ring ring bang bang 

He didn't know he wasn't the only one afraid

That the boy he asked to the dance actually wanted to be more than best friends

That his “friends” heard him say yes

So they beat him up too

Max got stood up because Mitch could no longer stand

Suicide Songs: Sunday

Suzzie's still dressed up in what passed as her Sunday best

Studying for tomorrow's math test

It's a lot of pressure when you're suppose to be a prodigy

When you're expected to make your mark in history 

When your expectations can't possibly result in reality

Except their not your expectations

Your work and success don't bring you feelings of elation 

Quite contrary your dreams are being suffocated 

You're in your home, your room but you still feel dislocated 

Like nothing's real

You don't know what to feel

You don't have the best dress 

But score the highest on every test

But that's not you or who you want to be 

But somehow no one else notices or sees

Your parents are so proud 

Your friends cheer so loud

But you can't get anything less than an A

You have to study so there's no time to play

It's all too much you're going to snap

The empty pill bottles fall on your lap

She didn't know her parents would still love her if she dropped out of school

That her friends didn't care if what she wore wasn’t so cool

Suicide Songs: Intro

The last few weeks were an introduction to poetry and to myself. I started writing poetry because I was hopelessly depressed and I had no voice. I had no one to talk to. No one I trusted. I was alone. Alone in my pain. Poetry kept me alive. Poetry gave me life. Poetry gave structure to my chaos and confusion. I was mentally ill but wasn't sure. I didn't want to accept myself because I was afraid of what my family and church (i.e. everyone I knew) would do to me if they found out I was gay. So I tried to drown myself when I was 11. I started cutting myself when I was 15. I also stopped eating. I don't know how I would have survived without poetry. If I couldn't say everything I needed to say without actually saying it.

But as I mentioned in the mini-memoir, I did end up in a mental hospital when I was 16. It really was the best thing that could have happened to me. Even though the boy broke my heart and I let that screw up my most important friendship, I was no longer alone. There are so many people out there just like me. Suffering from the same depression and oppression. But that's where traditional therapy ends. It gives you the tools to overcome obstacles. It provides a system that reduces your risk of relapsing. But it can't make you forget. And I'll talk more about this next week.

For these next 7 days, I'm just going to share 7 stories. 7 completely different souls. 7 completely different circumstances. 7 same "solutions" to those 7 very different problems. Just 7 ways suicide happens in our society.

Therapy Tactics on Gender Identity and Gender Roles

Coming out as transgender or genderqueer is similar to Coming Out as I mentioned in last week's post. What's different is that there's a lot more transphobia than homophobia even within the gay community as well as there being a lesser understanding of gender compared to sexuality. Gender is who you are. Sexuality is who you want to fuck.  It's sad that we understand and accept lust more than people. The world today is such a hyper-sexualized place that everyone understands what homosexuality is because we're all horny as fuck and don't know how to keep it in our pants. You don't have to agree with it to understand why someone would want to fuck someone else regardless of gender.

Explaining Non-Binary Systems: Gender Identity

Explaining Non-binary systems: Sexual & Romantic Orientation

Artistic Tips: Inspiration and Thought Process (part 2)

Continuing from the last post moving to other poem for this week.

"I Think, That's What Makes Me A Man"
So this poem plays off of "I think therefore I am" as I think about what it means to be a man.
I tried to figure out what it means to be a man by looking at the "checklist" that society had made. But you know, being mostly gay makes it mostly hard to match that list. And if that's what it means to be a man, then maybe I don't want to be.

To be a man or to be at all. I wouldn't mind blinking out of existence. Not stop existing i.e. death. But rather never existing at all i.e. never have been born. But that's not really an option, to my knowledge. So yeah, by my biological sex I identify as a man. But that doesn't quite sit right with me.

There's nothing new under the sun, so the words I'm writing, the thoughts I'm thinking, what I am -there's nothing new about all that, but why I write, what I do with my thoughts, who I am - that's all absolutely unique. So what I am is a man, but who I am? I'm not so sure.

So the part about my likes and dislikes goes back to Bridgit Mendler's song "Postcard." I like some guy things and some girl things, but I also don't like some boy things and I don't like some girl things.

I know myself and I can exist just fine even if I don't fit your definition of who I am suppose to be.

Artistic Tips: Inspiration and Thought Process (part 1)

There's nothing new under the sun. Everything is a remake of a remake of a remake. That's life. That's what we have to work with, but we can work with it. For poetry, for any writing, for any art, there's always a muse, a source of inspiration.

These two poems were inspired by the song "Postcard" by Bridgit Mendler. (Take a listen here. This was just the first thing when you google the song.) I loved the spirit and message of the song. It's about breaking down oppressive gender stereotypes. It's in the spirit of the "Like A Girl" campaign that you might have seen during the SuperBowl. Girls can play sports and run and throw and hit just as well as boys. But this song takes the necessary next step. At about 1:14 in that video, it talks about the flip side. Boys can like fashion and ballet. It doesn't make them gay or less of a boy. So that really struck a cord with me. So there were a few words that stuck out and really connected with me and I just went with it.

"Transition"
When I think about traditional gender roles and what boys and girls should do, I think about fairy tales. Knights saving damsel in distress. Until more recently, that was the gist of it. Girls need macho boys to save them. Boy need to be big and strong so they can have girl they want. But that's not reality. You grow up and realize that the world is a pretty messed up place and everything you learned when you were little was a lie: Santa Clause, the Tooth Fairy, Till Death Do Us Part.

Then I thought about how those fairy tales translate into what we as little kids dream about and what if I, as a boy, wanted the same things girls dreamt about. For the record, I didn't really want to crossdress, but you can read about how Jesus made me want to crossdress here. But I do like fashion, accessories, jewelry, and I do want to be the one to be proposed to, and I do have my dream wedding planned with white roses and vanilla cake.

And then from dreaming, I contrasted what "boyish" things I didn't like with what "girly" things I did like. From the song I got the idea of sports and getting dirty and ballet. But everything in this stanza is true of me.

The closing stanza is reflecting on the chorus of the song: "So what make you think that it's girls/boys only, no boys/girls allowed?" Boys will be boys and girls will be girls. And that's fine. But not all boys and not all girl will be like that. And that's also fine. Your chromosomes don't define your identity and what you like or don't like. #YouDoYou

(Other poem in Part 2 here)

What Would Jesus Wear - Who Am I? (Part 2)

So as I left off in Part 1, I struggled with my gender identity. Of course back then I didn't know what gender identity was so I was just plain confused about everything and I had no way of getting answers because I didn't even know what questions to ask.  Now, I was born male, and I was fine with that. I didn't even know what transgender was at the time, and then when I learned about it, it was something I seriously considered, but I have decided that I'm not exactly transgendered since I still mostly identify with being male.

So yeah, I was a boy who wanted to be a boy, but the struggle was that I didn't fit in with the other boys. I wasn't built for sports and that seemed like the only thing my brother and all the other boys at my school wanted to do. I was awkward

"I Think, I Am A Man"

"Transition"

Poetry - I Think I Am A man

“I Think, That’s What Makes Me A Man”

Sometimes I forget to think,

Therefore I forget that I am.

I’m not sure if I know what it means to be a man.

Is existence something out of which I can blink?

Because I try to follow the rules to a tee.

I keep checking what’s on the checklist.

But a girl I still have yet to conquer -I mean kiss- 

And I’m not sure if I even want to be.

To be a man, I desire by definition

Of with whom I identify, but I question if that is really I.

Or if simply everything I’ve been told is a lie.

Because I am who I am and that’s a unique sensation.

I like Hot Wheels but not real cars.

I like ballet and being in the kitchen.

I don’t like contact sports or combat missions.

I don’t like princess dolls but I like astronauts chasing stars.

This is who I am, I think.

Therefore I know that I still am.

But I might not fit your definition of a man.

But watch as I still exist even if you blink.

Poetry - "Transition"

“Transition”
by David Wright

Once upon a time I believed in Fairy tales
In pirate patches and ships setting sail
In evil witches losing their magic powers
In freeing damsels locked in their towers
In knights jousting in their shining armor
In Cinderellas meeting their Prince Charmers

But now I know better because now I live
In the real world where people forgot how to forgive
There's more to a story than tradition
Since this world is always in transition
Even saints can be condemned as sinners
And sometimes losers become winners

Once upon a time I wanted to be a girl
To wear high heels and precious pearls
To be a princess with a pretty pink dress
To be proposed to by a prince and say yes
To have my wedding with white roses and vanilla cake
To have an album of all the photos I would take

I didn't want to play sports or wrestle in the dirt
I didn’t want to do anything where I could get hurt
I didn’t want to play with monster trucks
I wanted to play tea party with my stuffed ducks
I wanted to twirl around like a ballerina
I wanted to be pretty and smart just like Athena

Boys will be boys. Girls will be girls.
But that's not the only rule in the world.
Gender roles are chosen by our definitions
Not assigned like a military conscription.
You are free to be whoever you feel is true.
You get to write your own story. You do you.

News Update: More More More

Hi all,

This is going to be a special double poem week and I'll explain why in one of the videos.

I also made some updates to make the blog easier to navigate. This is a daily blog so I post at least once every day which means there's going to be a lot of posts. After just 2 week I have about 20 posts. So on the top of the blog in the blue section, I added a tab bar.

PAST - you can find the specific section for each poem/topic
Poetry Portfolio: posts of my original poetry
Artistic Tips: posts of tips on writing methods and mechanics
Soul Sharing: posts of why I write and how I put myself out there
Therapy Tactics: posts of free advice on surviving life

Side projects

Therapy Tactics on Coming Out

Therapy Tactics on Coming Out

Coming out is one of the hardest things I've ever had to do. And I've had to do it so many times. It's common to come out to one person at a time at first. Your best friend. A sibling. A parent. Someone you absolutely trust and you know would love you no matter what and not tell anyone until you were ready. Unfortunately, we don't all have that someone in our lives, or we don't think we do, or we think we do but then that person hurts us. You can't really know how someone is going to react, and that is what makes coming out so scary. Thankfully, we now live in a more understanding and accepting time, but that isn't true for every situation. But it does mean we have this wonderful thing called the Interwebs where we can go to for help, guidance, and acceptance. You can't hug over the phone or through a computer, but at least, kind and loving words are readily available.

I knew I was gay when I was 11 (and you can read about that journey of self discover here). But I didn't know anyone I thought I could trust until I was about 15. (You can read about how that turned out to be a mistake here). He was my best friend. The best friend I ever had. He taught be how to be a rebel, how to be myself, and how to be happy. I was so scared of anyone finding out my secret that I made myself miserable trying to keep up the appearance of a "perfect" Christian boy. He was also the only person my age I knew that didn't go to my small private Christian school. That's what made him so attractive. That's why I wanted to be like him. He was free from this prison I had been in my whole life. Everything I like about myself I learned from him in one way or another.

I found someone who showed me how to be courageous. So if you're not already brave enough to come out, then don't, at least not yet. You have to be ready for the worst case scenarios which I read about extensively online. You could be bullied at school or at home, physically or emotionally; you could be kicked out of your home; you could be forced into conversion therapy. What you need before you come out is a support network. You can find that online through safe communities like TrevorSpace and The Trevor Project (linked under Helpful Resources). I didn't have these option, but you might have a GSA (gay-straight alliance) at your school or an LGBT center in your neighborhood. With these communities you can ask other people's coming out stories or find solidarity with others who haven't come out yet either.

Although the unknown is scary, reality doesn't have to be. You can read so many stories and watch so many coming out videos of it all working out and also how people survive when it doesn't work out so well. And if it doesn't at first, It Gets Better. Maybe not right away, but eventually it will if you find the courage to stay strong. It took me years before it finally got better, and I was so close to giving up so many times. You're never alone. There is always someone out there just like you who knows exactly what you're going through and has made it out the other side. And if you don't know anyone like that, I am that person. Maybe not exactly, but after everything I've been through I can empathize with anyone's situation.

And it's important to know that you don't have to come out. Never feel pressured to come out. Be true to yourself and that's enough. And sometimes it takes a long time to figure out what your true self looks like, and that's ok. It helps to talk it out with someone. But if you don't have that someone, then it helps to write it out. Keep a journal. Write out everything you feel. And if you're afraid someone might find it, then write in code, in secret metaphors. If it's about a person then just use ambiguous terms and pronouns. Poetry is especially useful because it's meant to say a lot with a little. You don't have to use all your words to express your feelings, and it's not meant to be entirely nonfiction. So if someone does happen to find it, you can play it off as fiction.

To sum up: Prepare for the worst, but there's hope for the best. Find a safe community, online or in person. Find at least one person you can trust to talk things through. Write out your feelings. Come out only if you feel safe and when you feel ready.