come on down to the Mermaid Cafe

                            suicide triptych
                                   1
                               absolution

forgive me
	please,   forgive me
		   for trying to die
		   for swallowing my fear in the shape of trazadone bottles

forgive me
	for trying to replace my blood
	with alcohol spirits
	trying to numb
	          to hide
	          to die

because it can be so fucking hard
		       to hate myself
		       to look at my scars
	criss 
			cross
		applesauce
				life lines
	each scar a release
	where tears could not reach

this is why i am so afraid to feel

because
	    because
       emotions 
 		led me here
	to a place of death
				and
				        blood
		     of scars that i can still touch

			(history of relief)

because
	in the dappled light of day
			         of life

	I          stand          alone
	
	ready
	to 
	fall

it is a fight that i always lose
it is a fight that i still rise for

forgive me.

	I.  Forgive. Me.

             I fight for life.



                            2
                          Andrew

tall, dark, and handsome he swam into the ocean
   belly full of medicine
		(powdered for maximum absorption)
	he swam out -- the horizon his last desire

arm over arm
	salt water spraying
	the pacific   r e a c h e d   out
	a      slap    in the face

his eyes open
      a dawning
	     that life is to be 
			        lived
			        (still)
he looks back
     hoping that the shore will not recede
     hoping that his strength
		       will remain unhampered 
		       by the medicine streaming through his veins



early morning
	fingers of sunlight touch the beach
	fishing pole in hand a stranger becomes a fisher of men
							         of man

	a life saved
	
	breath continues

the ocean cannot claim you


                               3
                            CalTrain

two girls stand on the verge of womanhood
		      the edge of the platform
		(too much make-up
		 too much skin
		 so much youth
			    potential
			they are beautiful)
they hang handmade signs with duct tape
	smiling faces of the dead
	     bright and shiny words
	     a heart near his name

this is where they died
	the friends of the living teens i see now
	these signs merely a memory
			        a ghost smile
		held so tenuously together with duct tape and tears

tomorrow there will be flowers
			  a stuffed giraffe
		two more girls cross legged while the trains whistle by
				two more oceans of saltwater innocence lost
		i add my tears to this altar
		in memory of children that i never knew

	forgive me.
		i tried.
	 	     i forgive you.

When I started dating my husband, well, first he was some guy I met at Burning Man, he didn’t know much about depression. I had to explain it and wasn’t really sure how. So I came up with this metaphor of living in a building. Most people live content, basically happy lives on the 8th floor. The best I could afford was the 6th and I spent a lot of time on the 1st or 2nd.

And sometimes when I would crash into a cycle of depression it is like going down the stairs a few, or many, floors. Sometimes it is a slow spiral staircase down. Sometimes I run. Sometimes I take the express elevator down, and sometimes, when life really takes a bite and my depression would become super severe, I swan dive out the window hitting the pavement in what is just a wreck of my person. (This is a metaphor, this is only a metaphor, I have never physically jumped out of a window that was higher than one on the ground floor.)

From then on we gauge my moods by what floor I am on and/or if I’m on the staircase or elevator going up or down. It’s a convenient metaphor for us.

I got to the 18th floor once. Our first Christmas and New Year’s he took me to Hawaii (I’m not a fan of Christmas) and we went snorkelling. OH MY GOD THE FISHIES! THE PRETTY PRETTY FISHIES! I was so happy there, just floating along with all the fishies.

Anyway, with the help of modern pharmacology and a psychiatrist and group therapy I’d been starting to hold my own. Live on floor 8, sometimes 10, on a regular basis.

And then I took a swan dive down. Out of the blue, out of nowhere, I crashed. For what it’s worth, I’m currently around floor 5-6, somewhere wandering up and down the stairs. And today I made it to floor 8 for a while. I’m not on the express elevator up, but I’m on my way up. That’s a good thing.

“i'm going to go ahead boldly because a little bird told me
that jumping is easy, that falling is fun
up until you hit the sidewalk, shivering, stunned”

— Ani Difranco, Swandive

The bird lies, it’s not fun to fall with no safety in place.

of depression

It came out of the blue
the crash and burn
the tears and fears
the self-loathing

sometimes it ramps up   s l o w l y
i can feel it worming its way into my serotonin

but this time i was well
i was healthy
i believed in myself
and my love and my mothering

and then out of the blue 
i dropped 8 stories on the express elevator
i jumped headlong into the ocean 
and forgot to check for sharks

just like that my smile turned saccharine
and my words “fine, i’m ok” became lies
my self-opinion did a 180 and i don’t care for myself
my son is awesome
my husband is awesome
	but i stand alone in a whirlwind of depression and doubt

i dropped
8 stories in the building of my mood
one stair at a time I’m trying to climb back up
one
  stair
    at
      a
        time
          i
            climb
	      until
                i
                  reach
                    okay
                      again

This has been an entry for Live Journal Idol Exhibit B Week 6 Topic Out of the Blue. For more creative and interesting entries on this and three other topics go to http://therealljidol.livejournal.com/666309.html.

Voting goes up Monday night and I will add a link then. and a video http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LOPqeQRNeZM