It Isn't Selfish

November 4th, 2019

I called you to say, “I did a thing.”

You were angry, as I had predicted.

I had no choice. It was my life to be lifted

From the death grip you held without even knowing.

I kept the façade as long as I could.

I defended you when no one else would.

I kept our home clean and smelling of love

Fresh baked bread and your favorite meals

Until the day I took too many pills.

I never meant for any of that.

In the warm bath full of bubbles

The knife stung and scared me a little.

The sticky red trickles were barely a scratch

Compared to my heart I had entrusted to you.

You came to the hospital after EMTs called.

You gave me no comfort,

You called me stupid and a burden

That tiny sterile room with monitors beeping

Felt cold, but it was your words that left me shivering.

I got better and came home once again,

But nothing seemed right, I didn’t fit in.

Your silence was awful. It screamed through my body

Until I checked myself in for an unknown stay

At Santa Fe House, my salvation away.

I made friends.

We all unburdened each other

Through promises of support I found my strength.

I found my own place too. No longer in need

Of your approval.

November 4th, 2019

I called you to say, “I did a thing.”

Suicide didn’t kill me, but you almost did.

I gave you more than I had.

I’ve taken back my worth.