yearbook

"we never grew up, no
we just grew away.
and i know that we had to
to end up okay.

i won't tell you i miss you
when i'd rather say:
i know i'll stop hurting
and thank you someday."

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gonna build up some moon-sand,
pat down the middle
siphon my blood and
little by little -

gonna leave me there,
gonna get some space.

my sense of self is shaky at best,
and it rattles in my chest
with every loose piece of me.

my confidence is better left alone;
doesn't reach down to the bone
and if that's shallow, let it be.

if i was whole, i wouldn't have
the space to give to you
under my skin.

without control, i finally have
the grace to live with you,
to let you in.

driving home from the airport

today my dad finally told me to my face that he used to think i might have been anorexic.

all i could say was,
"i know."

i was telling him my story,
and he told me of his own.
he was showing me a glory
of a life i'd never know.

and i told him i was tired,
and he said to go to sleep.
but i never did aspire
to be something he would keep -

floating in the shallow end,
or sinking in the deep.

heather

there's a whistle in the woodland
down beneath my throat;
in the would-have-if-i-could-land,
willing on the things i won't.

if you wait with all your senses,
you won't hear it on the wind.
bowling down the stone defences
rolling meadows, rolling in.

won't you take me back?
won't you take me in?
i am beaten from the path -
can't you hear the weather's wrath?
it's inside, it's surrounded, within.

there's a calling from the beaches
hung beneath my chest;
in the current, what beseeches
you lay me down to rest.

if you want with all your being,
you won't feel my sinking bones.
aching seas of never seeing,
breaking shores and breaking homes.

won't you take me back?
won't you take me in?
i am beaten from the path -
can't you hear the weather's wrath?
it's inside, it's surrounded, within.

it's inside, it's surrounded, within.

if i could give a speech to a room full of sad people

my name is samantha hogan. i'm a 21 year old university student from a middle class family, with divorced parents and one younger brother named timothy.
every night i take 30mg of the anti-depressant cipralex and 25mg of the anti-psychotic apo-quetiapine. i have been "formally diagnosed" with clinical depression, obsessive compulsive disorder, borderline personality disorder, social anxiety and a generalized anxiety disorder, along with a dash of sociopathic tendencies. further psychoanalysis, including blood tests and brain scans, are to be negotiated when i head home this summer.
in the twelfth grade i was hospitalized twice, each time for two weeks, after separate suicide attempts. i don't know why i did it. maybe i was angry. maybe i was sad. mostly, though, i think i was just tired.
to be honest, i'm still tired. all the time. most of the time i can deal with it but sometimes, when i'm the last person crossing the street and all the cars are waiting for me, i still think the world would be a better place without me.
there are days when i can't get out of bed. and days when even when i do get out of bed, i take one look at myself in the mirror and crawl back under the covers. i sometimes go weeks without taking my medication just to see how long i can last. i drink even though i shouldn't because i'm afraid that people won't remember me unless i'm wild - and remembering things myself comes second to that, i guess.
i used to self harm, but it was short lived. i didn't really see a point. i figured if i was going to off myself, i should just off myself. i've purposely overdosed on my medication twice. i cut my wrists and crawled into a flooded tub in all my clothes once, and although i don't remember it, i apparently told the paramedics that i did it because "i felt heavy and i wanted to sink."
my life really hasn't been much better or worse than the average, i think. i don't have a reason to be depressed, and sometimes that's the hardest part about it. i have amazing friends who have been there for me the whole way through, and it hurts when they ask why i'm sad and i can't come up with an answer.
i hate knowing what i've put people through in my own selfishness and there are days when i have to sit myself down and remind myself that depression is a fault in chemical and not character. that i didn't choose to have these thoughts but i can choose which thoughts i act upon.
one of the hardest things i ever came to know was the simple truth of suicide: if you want to do it, you will. if you've been thinking about it or planning something and you haven't done it yet, there's a reason. it wasn't hard for me to find out how many pills i had to take to end it all. the internet is a beautiful tool, even in the wrong hands. the fact of the matter is that i knew how many pills i had to swallow and i didn't do it.
and as hard as it was for me to admit it, it was because i didn't mean it. i didn't want to kill myself. if i'd really wanted to, i would have counted out the pills more carefully, or cut "down the road and not across the street" or i would have found some way to not be here anymore.
but i am here.
and i am here to tell you not that it gets better - it gets worse. every time you think that you've managed to claw your way out of your darkest moments, a new darkness will be introduced to you and you won't think that you can't overcome it. but you will. and then a darker darkness will come and you will think that you can't overcome it. but you will. because as long as you remain alive, there is a light.
maybe you can't see it; maybe it's so far away that you'll have to drag your beaten self for miles before you find it. maybe it's so dim that your eyes can't detect it in between your tearful fits and sleepless nights. more often than not, though, it's inside you. and i know that sounds cheesy but i mean it, and you are going to have to scrape away all the pieces of you that you're not happy with until you can uncover that light and feed it.
i'm still digging. i have yet to find the thing that's supposed to make me love myself, or at the very least stop hating myself.
but it's a thousand step process, and no matter which direction you choose to go in, it's uphill both ways in a thunderstorm of self doubt and it's okay to take breaks along the way as long as they do not break you.
step one: i'm still here.
i'm still here to tell you that most of the time redemption doesn't come in a sudden burst, but in a grueling climb. and some will not make it. but you will.
there is no defeat in accepting help, from doctors or friends or prescriptions or help lines or food or exercise or video games or sleeping for 24 hours.
you have no control over the things that surround you. i'm here to tell you that those things might get worse. they probably will. they might get better, but that's something i can't promise to you. what i can say, without a doubt, is that as long as you keep clawing at the light, you will get better. you will get brighter even when you're learning that black is not as dark as things get.
my name is samantha hogan. i'm a 21 year old university student and my flaws do not define me. my disorders do not define me. my medications and my doctor's appointments and my days spent alone in my room do not define me.
i'm from a middle class family, with divorced parents, and one younger brother named timothy.
i have yet to find my light, but i am here.
it's nice to meet you. let's begin.