suicide
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In the brightness of midnight,the floorboards creak as silently I hear deliberate whispers beneath my feet; a harbinger of something unseen Internal secrets,breath held tight,the air has a scent, seemingly metallic and bitter,and unspoken fears are gnawing like rats at the edges of the mind What lies in the empty room that people all avoid?… Read more
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Below are common C-PTSD markers, especially as they appear after long-term narcissistic or relational abuse. 1. Emotional DysregulationDifficulty returning to baseline after stress.Sudden anger, irritation, or rage (often followed by shame)Emotional numbness or shutdownFeeling “too much” or “nothing at all”Overwhelm from relatively small triggers 2. Persistent HypervigilanceThe nervous system stays in threat mode.Constant scanning for… Read more
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In the sanctuary’s stillness hymns flow gracefully ,each note a question:what does it mean to believe when the heart is a closed door, and silence fills the spaces? Memories are fractured, like a child’s drawing of a house with sunshine in the corner with the sky gray which holds no promise as I write the… Read more
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Inside my rib cage lies a grave marked with 6 names and on the ground surrounding it are the remnants of a boy lost in memories and dreams,starved of life, breath fading; lost beneath what could have been This boy, that I the old man am, are one in the same: He often does not… Read more
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I sit with affective empathy in my office and cradle my coffee while lost in a mosaic of fractured reflections from the storm in the mind of the person across the desk from me watching out the slightly open window as a petulant child tugs on the hem of her mother’s patience, and hearing her… Read more
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Today is another day where I am Schrödinger’s cat sitting in the box along with uncertainty, which stems from the weight of possibility that I am both alive and dead simultaneously Hourly I am pinned between the what if, and the never was,a silent empty chair across from me the uninvited guest,the taste of stale… Read more
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In the colored lights glowing in December,the the scent of pine in wreaths and trees here I sit sifting through boxes of memories Shining, sparkling ornaments like ghosts,hanging heavy and each a fragment of laughter,a whisper now muffled,lost between carols and the weight of absence I remember the way they used to smile,how their laughter… Read more
The Quill of Samantha Grace Newcastle 