Embarrassed.

I find it embarrassing to ever bring up that I see a therapist. There’s still this strong stigma about therapy, being the one needing therapy, talking about it in the open like any other doctor’s appointment. People never want to talk about it, or even acknowledge that I said anything – and I know what they’re thinking:

I’m too busy to have this conversation. I’m too stressed to listen to her problems. This isn’t a good time. I just don’t have time.

But what if it wasn’t a “conversation” but just a part of conversation? What if acknowledging mental health issues wasn’t just about listening to someone bitch and moan, what if it wasn’t a problem, an issue, a hassle? What if every moment was a good time? What if it wasn’t a “thing” that you had to make time for?

The only one.

It’s hard to talk to anyone about what goes through my head because no one seems to have an answer.
I’m tired.
I’m tired, I’m tired, I’m tired.
I’m tired of seeing things that are small, small things turn into huge problems.
I feel like I’m the only one who ever hears it.
But there’s going to be one day I let her down,
there’s going to be a day where I can’t fix it,
there’s going to be a time I can’t make it to her in time,
there’s going to be a moment when she doesn’t want my help,
when my help makes things worse,
when I cross that line and she tells me to get out,
to leave her alone.

I’m the only one who ever hears it.
The good-byes,
the “these are my last words”,
the “I can’t do this”,
the “I’m always sad”,
the “I can’t ever be happy”,
and it makes my head hurt.

My head hurts.
I want to rip it out.
I just want to rip it out so I can stop thinking.

I want to talk to someone.
But I don’t want to anymore.
I don’t feel like it anymore.

I’m the only one who ever hears it.
And nothing ever matters.
There’s never anything for me to look forward to.
Nothing matters anymore.
Nothing I do matters.

I’m so tired.

Lie to me.

Sometimes I really like to think that she is ok,
that she is doing fine,
that there is nothing wrong.

Even when I know it never is.
It never is for long.

Footsteps

Did you know, that when we were Skyping today…and you got up to leave and drive back to Sacramento…I didn’t want to hang up. I never want to hang up. I never want to stay bye.

I just leave the call open,
listen to the rustle of your purse against your sweater,
your footsteps down the stairs,
you fading voice as your near the door,
I miss you and every thing about you.

I want to just come home,
even if it doesn’t change much,
I want to know that I can be there with you.

What else are sisters’ good for, right?

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