Issue 3.1 Launch: Reader Profiles

Ayyy I’m in this 🙂 ❤

untethered

Don’t miss this amazing lineup of readers who will be taking over the second floor of the Monarch Tavern (12 Clinton Street) with us NEXT Wednesday, August 17th at 7 pm!

Trevor Abes(photographer)Trevor Abes is a poet and essayist with a penchant for conceptual art. As part of the Toronto Poetry Slam team (2015), he represented the city in both the Canadian Festival of Spoken Word and the National Poetry Slam. He is currently theatre critic at The Theatre Reader. Photo by Sandro Pehar Photography.

Victoria Butler (photographer)Victoria Butler is a twenty-year-old certified Mom friend, born and bred in Barrie, Ontario but trying to find her future in Toronto. When she’s not having an existential crisis over how to answer the question “What are your plans after university?” she can be found trying to find a unique way to photograph a sunset, attempting to write non-cliche love poetry, or crying on the…

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Vol. 3.1

I am so excited and honoured to be featured in this issue of Untethered. It’s my first publishing in print – thank you to everyone at Untethered for including me! ❤

Forthcoming August 2016   Editors’ Note Dear Reader, In this issue you will find the body controlled, imprisoned, misunderstood, judged, failing, starved, bound, raped, disappo…

Source: Vol. 3.1

Mental Health Recovery: be yourself – flatsound

by
“And to all the self-destructive people who feel they’ll never be themselves again,
just know I understand that self-inflicted pain is self-defense.
So don’t sell yourself short or label yourself as stupid,
because when you’ve hit rock bottom
every movement is a self-improvement.” 

I have been a fan of Mitch Welling, aka flatsound, for a few years now. The guy just has a way with words that is so unique and often hits you like a ton of bricks. He gets into your mind and heart and his words have been an incredible help and comfort to me over the years.

This particular spoken word poem of his, “be yourself” is really special. I usually end up listening to his words and songs every day, but this one in particular is very important to me. I wish I had even half of his talent.

Best of Poems from NEW Poets. Read the best of NEW Poetry around the world.

Thanks for including me on this list! ❤

WILDsound Festival

Read the best of NEW Poetry around the world. Best of Poems from NEW Poets.

CLICK the links and read the poems

DUDE WAS RICH, by Anthony N’Neke
https://festivalforpoetry.com/2016/06/22/dude-was-rich-poetry-by-anthony-nneke/

THE DEATH OF LIFE, by Andres Herrera
https://wildsoundfestivalreview.com/2016/06/20/the-death-of-life-poetry-by-andres-herrera/

DISCRIMINATION, by Rashika Roberts
https://wildsoundfestivalreview.com/2016/06/20/discrimination-poetry-by-rashika-roberts/

TOMORROW, by Olumayowa Fagbure
https://wildsoundfestivalreview.com/2016/06/20/tomorrow-poetry-by-olumayowa-fagbure/

DARK NIGHT BRIGHT DASHBOARD, by NoFaithPoet
https://wildsoundfestivalreview.com/2016/06/20/dark-night-bright-dashboard-poetry-by-nofaithpoet/

CHILD OF MIDNIGHT, by Anthony Silva
https://wildsoundfestivalreview.com/2016/06/20/child-of-midnight-poetry-by-anthony-silva/

HEARTBREAK BY THE LAKE, by Forrest Jamie
https://wildsoundfestivalreview.com/2016/06/20/heartbreak-by-the-lake-poetry-by-forrest-jamie/

ACID RAIN, by Cathy Hammer
https://wildsoundfestivalreview.com/2016/06/20/acid-rain-poetry-by-cathy-hammer/

CLARITY VISITED, by Sharda Bhakri
https://wildsoundfestivalreview.com/2016/06/20/clarity-visited-poetry-by-sharda-bhakhri/

GENIUS GODDESS, by S. Michaelis
https://festivalforpoetry.com/2016/06/22/genius-goddess-poetry-by-s-michaelis/

THERE ARE TWO SEASONS, by Neville Johnson
https://festivalforpoetry.com/2016/06/22/there-are-two-seasons-poetry-by-neville-johnson/

SUSPENDED LOVE, by Anna
https://festivalforpoetry.com/2016/06/22/suspended-love-poetry-by-anna/

LOTTIE WE CAN FLY, by Elaine Longworth
https://festivalforpoetry.com/2016/06/22/lottie-we-can-fly-poetry-by-elaine-longworth/

HIJO PRODIGO DE LA DESGRACIA, by Francisco Fernandez
https://festivalforpoetry.com/2016/06/22/hijo-prodigo-de-la-desgracia-poetry-by-francisco-fernandez/

DEAR BROTHER, by Rani Powell
https://festivalforpoetry.com/2016/06/22/dear-brother-poetry-by-rani-powell/

PLAY HOUSE, by John John Kind Ravenell Jr.
https://festivalforpoetry.com/2016/06/22/play-house-poetry-by-john-john-kind-ravenell-jr/

MY REALITY WITHIN A DREAM, by Roderick Dupree
https://festivalforpoetry.com/2016/06/22/my-reality-within-a-dream-poetry-by-roderick-dupree/

A REMARKABLE TALE FROM THE LAND OF PODD, by…

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BPD and Letting Go of You (Part 2)

I spend so much time living in anger these days that I’m starting to forget the good things. And maybe should…but the thought scares me. It breaks my heart just thinking about it. I’m not sure if I should go on as best I can like you never existed, or just try keeping the bad in the very back of my mind and remember an old friend held so bittersweet in my heart. Because it had to have been real at some point, right? The first friend I made in highschool, just days before it even began at orientation. So here are the things I want to hold onto for as long as I can, even if they sadden me to think about at the same time:

  1. Your childlike sensibility; watching the cartoon network on your couch with your cats. Never thought I’d miss that innocence you’d held onto now that it’s gone.
  2. Your granola upbringing, courtesy of your hippie mother. You loved nature and would feed the squirrels outside your window. I miss you feeding the squirrels.
  3. Blue eyes. Beautiful.
  4. Your intelligence; the random facts and trivia, always something new to say.
  5. Unashamed, but quiet around others for the most part, like me.
  6. The texts you’d send when I wasn’t at school, asking where/how I was.
  7. Your laugh; contagious, and always made me smile.
  8. How open you were, how comfortable it was to be in your presence.
  9. Your forgiveness when I messed up bad… something I could never seem to do in return for you.
  10. That bond we had, like in the movies. Like sisters separated at birth.

There’s plenty more, but right now all I feel is this ever-present stabbing at the still bleeding wound from your silence from when you left.

Happy birthday. I love you. I miss you. Forever.

IMG_20151021_190915175 2“I survived every one of your goodbyes.” – Della Hicks-Wilson

My Last Day of 22

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“Amazing, still it seems, I’ll be 23.
I won’t always love what I’ll never have.
I won’t always live in my regrets.”
23 – Jimmy Eat World

It’s my last day of 22. Half of it I spent sleeping, wanting to experience as little of the day as possible. I’ll do the same tomorrow. But I’m tired of it – of not living.

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This song, by a band very important to me that I grew up with, has been on my mind lately. For obvious reasons. It’s called 23 and tomorrow that’s how old I’ll be. I want this song to motivate me.  I want it to be a part of what gets me to really start living.

Because I have more bad days than good. And some days I can’t even get out of bed. Normal, every-day activities wear me out and I’m tired of wishing my life would just change magically. I know I have to do something about it. It has to be me. I can’t sit around waiting for someone to save me from my loneliness.

And I have been slowly making changes. Slowly but surely. DBT was a huge step for me. I’m writing a book. I’m submitting my writings to different magazines and sites – I’m no longer living stagnant.

I’m in need of a friend – of people – who understand. Where I’ve been, where I need to go. Because I can’t do this alone.

The Power of Music

Like many others, I grew up with music as a huge part of my life.But it was always different for me than the kids I grew up with. With my dad as a musician, I was exposed to all kinds of music and I started playing guitar when I was 10. That’s when I realized just how important it was to me. It simply became a part of who I was. I found it was the best thing I had to express myself, along with writing.

I was 11 when music first started saving my life. Diagnosed with depression, the only thing that kept me sane, that kept me going, was music.

All I cared about was my guitar and going to shows. Those were the only times I never felt truly alone; my guitar, a pen and some paper, or the stereo on full blast; or being in a room surrounded by other people who feel the exact same as you, are there for the same reasons, and the band giving back just as much as we gave them.
To this day, I never feel more alive than in a crowd, all of us pouring our hearts out with the band onstage. It’s really the only time I really feel understood and that comfort is what keeps me going.

PicMonkey Collage

One of the best quotes I’ve come across that really hit me, as shown above from one of my art journals, came from Soupy of The Wonder Years:

“There’s a reason we all listen to punk rock instead of Top 40. There’s a reason I’d rather be stage-diving than at a bar. I think that most everyone I know involved in punk or hardcore is intrinsically fucked up on some level. There’s something wrong with us. Maybe not “wrong”, but certainly different. Because of this, I think we all share a similar outlook and because of that, we share similar experiences. I’m just writing songs about my life, but as it turns out, my life is pretty similar to others and honestly, it feels good to know we’re in this shit together.”

I remember so clearly the first time I experienced this rush and contentment, the first time I was ever in a mosh pit. 2006, 12 years old, with my cousin (who I’d had this shitty all-girl punk band with) where we saw From First to Last and Fall Out Boy. I’d been to shows before of course, but this was the first time I was ever in the pit. I was immediately addicted to the energy.

I miss those days. Yeah, I was going through some rough shit but, for at least those first couple years, I had this outlet that I shared with my cousin; our band. I lived for practices and performing. I continued playing my own music after the band “broke up”, of course, but I’ll always hold those days as some of the best in my life.

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I can’t imagine my life without music. What’s it’s done for me. Punk, especially.

I was 11 the first time music saved my life and it’s been saving me ever since.

First post: Recovery Is Better Together

I took this photo of my medications at the time when I’d been first diagnosed with Borderline Personality Disorder.

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To say this diagnosis changed my life would be an understatement. I have others, but this one is different. Bigger.

Sometimes, when I think about what all comes with living with BPD, I get so overwhelmed at how hopeless it all seems, that recovery was never a road meant for me. But more often than not, I know that’s just the disorder talking. And they all do it – my disorders, of which I’ll delve into one post at a time.

For now, I’ll give you the gist:
Besides BPD, I have been living with severe depression and anxiety for over half of my life, and as a result I turned to self-harming when I was 12 years old. ADHD diagnosis in 2014, PTSD diagnosis at the beginning of 2016.

I need my life to change. I’m ready for it. I can’t let any of these disorders control me anymore. One way I’m changing is through my writing. I’ve been writing all my life and back in December 2015, I decided to really do (or try, rather) something with my talent. I’m writing a book about my mental health journey in the Prose and Poetry genre, and being mentored by one of my favourite authors. As much as it is for me since it’s my story, I want to help others like my mentor has helped me. Give others hope, prove they are not alone no matter how dark or distant they feel.

I hope to connect to others struggling or who can relate. Please feel free to comment or contact me. Because I know I can’t do this alone – no one can.