Summer Pop-Punk Days | June Gloom + July Sunshine | Hungover Love (poems)

Proud to have three of my poems published in my friend Jen Roomes’ kickass zine crapnation!

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Hush (poem)

Got this little poem called “Hush” published today over at Horn & Ivory Zine for their last issue!

Fun story behind it – I wrote it during my recovery from surgery back in January while loving my life on morphine! I have very little memory of actually writing it but I’m proud of it. It’s actually a song still in progress – the poem version of it just got published first.

Thanks to the folks at H&I ❤

HUSH
by forrest jamie
He’s playing me
acoustic heartbreak in
the scale of Lies
but it’s my time now. It’s my turn
so hush down and close your eyes.
No, you don’t know this one,
only I know the words to this song.
Hush down now and close your eyes.
I’ll sing us to sleep –
you for a few hours,
me forever.
A Tylenol lullaby bye baby,
composed of some whiskey and codeine.
A cocktail hymn of shallow breaths and SSRIs.
My narcotic lullaby bye baby,
for your ears and one night only.
Under stainglass stars and porcelain moonlight.
My lethal lullaby bye baby,
my song of goodnight
(goodbye.)
hi

World Suicide Prevention Day 2017: I Was Made For…

It’s September 10th, which means it’s World Suicide Prevention Day. TWLOHA’s slogan this year being Find What You Were Made For.

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I really struggled with this. I’ve been in a bit of a low period lately, so it’s all too easy to shut out the positive. Once I realized that that’s what I was doing I found that the answers were actually pretty simple.

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I Was Made For my art. I was made for my music and my writing; for my creativity.

I Was Made For these amazing people I get to call friends who understand and are there for me, and in return be there for them. To give them back the love and hope they’ve given me.

I Was Made For the chance to be a voice in this world. A voice to raise awareness. To fight the stigma of mental health. To fight for equality.

I Was Made For being more than my depression and anxieties. More than my BPD. My disorders do not define me.

I Was Made For something I haven’t figured out yet. But I have to believe I will.

I Was Made For this. Here. Today. Tomorrow.

♥♥

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Stay. Find what you were made for.
#WorldSuicidePreventionDay

How My Tattoos Help ‘Heal’ My Scars

New article was published on The Mighty today! My second with them. 😀

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Always Recovering, Never Recovered | World of Psychology

Thanks to psychcentral for publishing my piece on self-harm!

‘Always recovering, never recovered.’ A simple sentence that can be a harsh reminder. And that’s not to say your efforts or how far you’ve gotten were for naught, but to keep getting back up when you do fall. I’ve learned over the years, of course, that it’s extremely important to know you are not alone. Others are struggling and surviving alongside with you and it’s nothing to be ashamed of. I’ve always had a difficult time accepting the shame part. I’m very back-and-forth on my scars. On one hand, they’re a reminder of what not to do, proof I’ve held on this long. But on the other hand, I hate them. They’re a reminder that I was ever so weak to do such a stupid thing, and now I have to live with the physical proof. The amount of shame and guilt I’ve dealt with not only from myself, but a few loved ones as well, breaks my heart. I can’t help but feel they’re ashamed of me; of knowing me, being who they are to me, as they tell me to cover them up like a dirty secret. Maybe they don’t

Source: Always Recovering, Never Recovered | World of Psychology

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

Scars Are Souvenirs You Never Lose

“Scars are souvenirs you never lose; the past is never far.” IMG_20151021_190542734 2
From my art journal – “Name” by the Goo Goo Dolls.
I grew up listening to this band. Name had always been one of my favourite songs, but it wasn’t until I started self-harming that it took on a whole new meaning for me, became one of the most special songs in my heart to this day.

I’m very back-and-forth on my scars. On one hand, they’re a reminder of what not to do again, proof I’ve held on this long. But on the other hand, I fucking hate them – they’re a reminder that I was ever so weak to do such a stupid thing, and now I have to live with the physical proof.

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“Cut” by Plumb.
“I’m not a stranger – no, I am yours. With crippled anger and tears that still drip sore. I may seem crazy or painfully shy. And these scars wouldn’t be so hidden if you would just look me in the eye. […] but the only anesthetic that makes me feel anything kills inside.”
Another song that’s in that special, tragic place in my heart. I remember so vividly the first time I ever heard it. It was just a few months after my parents found out about my self-harming, in 2006, 12 years old. The way they reacted and dealt with it was totally wrong. And hearing this song for that first time just broke me, saying what I couldn’t.

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And of course, this quote from The Virgin Suicides by Jeffrey Eugenides.
“What are you doing here, honey? You’re not even old enough to know how bad life gets.”
“Obviously, doctor, you’ve never been a thirteen year old girl.” 

And over the last decade I’ve relapsed and just keep adding to them. Like I said – always recovering, never recovered. 

I’m never not aware of them. I never forget. Some days are easier to deal with – like, this is me, this is my body and my scars and it’s okay because I’m still here. Some days, I just want to hide, they’re ugly and forever a part of me and I hate them.

I don’t want to be ashamed of myself; my mental illness, my body. Every day is a fight to do the right thing.

I am in recovery. I am a work in progress. And I’m still working on being okay with that.