Caring Is

Caring is….
There is no simple answer. Part of caring is being the one who is willing to dig deeper to find an answer, to go a step farther to give comfort, to be the last one standing in a room full of fleeing people to make sure the last person there has a hand to grab onto. Caring is walking up to the cliff’s edge when no one else will come near the ledge, but still maintaining a level head at the same time. (However, if you put a level on my head that little bubble would be WAY off center.) Caring is having a voice that others can hear above the roar of life. Caring is recognizing the unique soul in each of us but remembering to embrace what joins us all as human beings. Caring is knowing that a sober face isn’t always the correct one, that sometimes a tear on your cheek allows someone to see that you are not just another faceless robot on an isolated highway. Caring is being a part of someone’s happiness, sharing their sadness, giving them a safe place to express their anger, their fear, frustration, weakness, hopes, and dreams. It is owning your mistakes and learning from them, and using what you have learned to try again. It is not being afraid to say you are afraid, and asking for help when you do not know how to proceed on your own. Caring is knowing the difference between needing to keep a secret, when to confide, and when to protect. Caring is knowing that the best way for me may not be the best way, however I will give you a damn good argument why it should be! Caring is realizing that sometimes you need to shut the hell up and listen, and that sometimes silence and offering a hand to hold is the best way to be heard. Caring is hugging, holding, and giving space. Caring is looking for the light in people when everyone else sees only their darkness, and hoping you can show that person how their light shines out of the cracks in their soul. It can be a very dark world, but even the smallest beam of light can illuminate and entire room if you allow your eyes, and heart, to adjust to the glow. It takes patience, but also knowing that some things require a sense of urgency. Caring is not losing hope or giving up, but knowing there is a difference between giving up and letting the universe take control of what you cannot. Caring is also remembering that you must care for yourself if you are to be able to care for another. For a long long time I let that detail derail my life, my soul, my heart. I had to learn that despite my faults, my stumbles, my shortcomings, I am worth love. You are all worth love. Love is the only hope.
Lots of love to you all.
Megan 2009

Ironworker.

I want you to know that your touch blisters my skin,
I want you to know I will feel nothing better than that again,
I want you to know your words try to cut me so deep,
But I want you to know they don’t hurt my sleep,
I want you to know you try to rip me to shreds,
But I want you to know that from pain you were led,
I want you to know when you try to tear me down,
It is your pain that scrapes my knees when I fall to the ground,
I want you to know when you raise your fists to protect your heart,
I can see that your cracks permeated your soul from the start,
I want you to know while you try to break my legs,
I know you just needed a soul next to you that you did not need to beg,
I want you to know while you aim your torch and burn my tears,
The very same fire inside you murdered my doubts, destroyed my fear,
Do you know your screams of rage you use to push me away,
Sound the same as your cries as you plead me to stay?
Do you know the sound of the beat of your heart when you run,
Mimics the sound of your love making and the sound of a gun?
Do you know I don’t blame you or your knife for gutting my soul,
Of course you don’t believe you’ve been raked through the coals,
One thing you do know is the sound of my relief and my sigh,
The way the world melts away when you fill me with lies,
You can feel my body tremble and that sick sweet release,
My true loves are criminals, I give my heart away to you beautiful thief.

Thief

This wasn’t my plan,
His wasn’t my sickness,
These weren't my dreams,
These were his wishes,
I was just a little girl,
I was just playing dolls,
Before becoming this monster,
I sang and skipped down the hall,
He stole my playtime,
He shattered my soul,
My dolls became demons,
My playground a hole,
There used to be laughter,
Blonde hair in the sun,
There’s not enough bleach,
To clean up what he’s done,
His hands were dirty,
His soul was as well,
A sweet blue eyed angel,
Whom he sentenced to hell,
My smile now as forced and fake,
Like the face of those dolls,
My stare as dead and empty,
My blood poured down that hall.

Silence

In the cold sober light of a Colorado morning,
His silence rolled in without a warning,
His feelings were gone like the heat from the ashes,
Her memories of the fire hit her in flashes,
Just barely Moments after the embers are cool,
She’s reeling and tripping and acting a fool,
After all who was she to question his fears
I must have dreamed it she chokes through her tears
The quiet is awkward now they are apart
Together it was replaced with the beat of their hearts,
And the touch of his hands on the back of her thighs,
The silence was filled with what now wounds like lies,
Meant to deceive by a theif of hearts,
Silly to take what she handed over in the dark,
A bolt of lightening a flash in the pan
Once solid ground where she can now barely stand
1000 dayss, so happy alone and now this,
Three years on her own but she would have been his
Its cost too much just to turn back now,
He walks away without effort, she does not understand how.

I think of you while the sun is rising still baffled how i woke up in your arms,
I didn't know that a full moon could shake me...
or a glimpse of your heart might just break me,
as I lose sleep it is so surprising,
for a moment you were the calm in my storm.
I know it hasn't been a long time,
but the days grow short and you're still on my mind,
the wind is getting colder like my soul,
another birthday in October,
God knows how I lived to see this day...
It's hard to know the right thing to say,
I wasn't prepared to ever feel this way,
like maybe I could try one more time ...
So if I misread the place of your heart,
your intentions twisted from the sparked start,
who knows maybe it was just the fire and gasoline...
To trust in my heart has always leftme so broken,
but somehow between the words unspoken,
maybe your heart's been bruised as much as mine...
So goodnight baby I don't mean maybe,
when I say I think you're soul is solid gold,
hug your babies in the coldest weather,
your love for them is all you're guaranteed forever,
and the comfort that you can always count on change...

A Second Glance

I didn’t give a second glance,
The first time you flashed that smile,
Completely unbeknownst to me,
I would only be immune for awhile,
Your eyes that squint and sparkle through,
So seductive and so green,
Would slowly start to chip away the ice,
From every past what might have been,
My heart is safe I tell myself,
The ice too solid and too thick,
The walls I've built are very high,
and the mortar has dried,
Over every tortured brick.
I thought I’d use that picket fence,
and some kerosene,
To light the bed of my funeral pyre,
the devil would dance upon the coals,
Of this soured soul He does desire,
It was just as simple as you being who you are,
Every wrinkle and imperfection,
My nails begin to claw the rocks I've stacked,
To stave out all affection
I still have questions in my core,
If I could love a soul so bright as yours,
I have so many broken pieces,rusted nails and shuttered doors.
Thank you for the light you have left,
in this moonless darkened space,
and if it never lasts beyond today,
I will carry close thememory,
Of ours and the childrens’ laughter,
Which echo through this empty space

I'll just write your name with A blade on my skin,
It's the only metaphor fitting this sickness within,
My touch scars like an acid on soft perfect skin,
My presence will poison your soul from within,
I walk with the demons I crawl with the Flies,
I can't be your Savior my beauty is lies,
I will never hold hands with an angel you see,
I can't fight the demon if the demon is me.

Death and Her Kiss (Failed Suicide)

You may know the sensation when you swallow a pill, 

Maybe two more, perhaps, another one still? 

I have choked on the plastic of twenty, two hundred and more,

Before I knew, on my knees, surrounded, empty bottles on the floor,

You have heard the sound of sirens, seen the flash of the lights, 

Maybe once, maybe twice, heard them dozens of nights, 

The sound pales to fear as the gurney’s seatbelt goes click, 

The “do you know who you are, where you are?” tell me this! 

Do you know what it’s like to be held to the ground?

A tube forced down your throat as you cry but can’t make a sound?

The taste of your stolen escape, vomit putrid on your tongue, 

The chalk of the charcoal, black like my soul and the sun. 

You may know the crisp smell of clean, freshly starched sheets,

How about the echoes, the white walls, felt the ache in the lost's shrieks?

The thud of your heartbeat as you pace through the hall,

The first time you understand how far an angel can fall? 

I know firsthand, the shame and the scars, inexplicable desire, 

Helplessly self destruct, burn it down, be consumed in the fire.

The tight rope of ambivalence, the desperation, the why’s, 

Begged my soul to be free of the pain, body covered in flies.

Perhaps you’ve stood near the edge of a few dirty thoughts,

Have you recited your blessings while choosing your plot? 

The confusion, dissociation, you and your reflection aren’t one?

Have you awoken, so fucking angry you did not use a gun?

These memories drift through my mind on nights such as this, 

My affair with that sweet Temptress, Death and Her kiss.

Megan Jean Forrest. (Friday November 13, 2015: edited 2/25/2024

Today I regroup...

Today I regroup….
Day 4,356 of my journey out of hell…
Most people think of spring and the equinox as a time of renewal, balance, hope, and of new beginnings, new life. I think of storms, powerful, destructive, frightening, storms. They hit every year at this time, and I am more prepared for some than for others, and some blow by with only a drizzle. . I have felt it brewing for awhile, the first winds began coming in during the last months of this winter. It appeared I had all the loose ends tied down, and was ready… it appeared. When it hit, it was worse than I thought it would be, and had I known at the time, it was only a glimpse into what was coming next, as the hurricane hit this past weekend.
The force of the gale hit me and knocked me, and I am sure everyone in the near vicinity (sorry family), off our feet for a moment. I am still reeling from it, wondering how a weathered sailor such as I, could handle the seas more along the lines of Gilligan (or more like Ginger, pa-the-tic). I hope beyond hope that the damage is covered under the family policy. Figuratively, for those can’t quite keep up with my tongue. (If that is you, don’t worry, my mouth and tongue often run too fast for me to keep up as well, so you aren’t alone.) While I have survived tougher storms, the after effect of any storm has a much larger potential for damage, however, due to the passengers who count on me to keep them safe. I am lucky to have some very supportive buoys to help weather the storm, and to help keep everyone from knowing how truly scary the storm can be. I think, however, that it shook us all to the core a bit, as I know my knees are still a bit wobbly.
But today I regroup. I thank God… (or Allah, or the Universe, or Science, whatever you shmucks who have a problem with spirituality or religion or whatever anyone chooses to believe. My Jesus wears a tuxedo T-shirt and eats lunch with Buddha. Fuck off,)… that I can still be shaken to my core, and come out the other side, to see the new life of Spring. There have been times I was not so certain I would make it, so that is why I talk about it, whether I decide to paint it in metaphor, or choose to express it in cold hard black and white… its depression. It is not easy to talk about, and I can tell you all of my blessings, of all that I am grateful for, and all of the things that truly fill me with joy and life… but when it grips you with white knuckles and does not let go while you hold on for dear life, (literally, at times in the past, again for those of you still trying to figure out the first slip of the tongue,) I can’t explain to you what happens to those things, except that sometimes they fade from your memory like temporary amnesia, or a really good dream you can’t quite remember… you know what happened but you just can’t quite recall exactly what it was about.
So to be able to be shaken to my core, while frightening, is also liberating. On the other side of the storm, while rather embarrassing because you know when the storm hits you never have your hair done and are wandering around in your nightie like you are doing the walk of shame, I also get to remember that I am strong. That I don’t have to go down with the vessel, that I am not going to break because I am not made of glass. That because I have weathered this, that I can help others weather it too. Today someone told me, it would be cool to be a nurse, to do what you do, to help change someone’s life, or even someone’s day. All I did was talk to them. I didn’t give them a shot of morphine, or even a band-aid. I gave them my time, my ear, my empathy (not sympathy) and I helped give them tools to help them guide themselves through their storm. What I have learned… in school and by sailing through my own storms, allows me to use my experience to offer some light in the dark, in times of depression, or just in times of uncertainty. There isn’t a dollar amount in the world to be placed on the feeling of honor to be recognized with a statement such as that.
It is an honor to be a nurse, one with her own scars, one who can help others heal theirs, both internal and external. It is an honor to be let into lives, to be trusted to see into the core of another human being who was, sometimes moments before, a stranger. I have seen into the hearts of people, both literally and figuratively. It is a privilege to be let into an operating room to see someone have a bypass, and them to trust you with their dignity not being sure whether they will live or die. It is just as big of an honor to have someone let me into their home, and into the lives of their family, and to entrust me to be benevolent, and to bare their soul in hopes that I can at least provide some insight, or some guidance, and (sometimes to my surprise as well), I have always been able to come through for them somehow. Some days that is only being a hand to hold with silent lips, but some days, that is all someone needs.
It is not easy, depression, but I will not be its victim. It will not take me down without a fight, and I am not done fighting. I am not done with the privilege and honor of raising two beautiful children, of trying to be a good daughter and sister, and I am not done being a nurse, who is everything from the fly on the wall listening and observing, to the person who may one day literally be holding your body together. So I am thankful for the opportunity to be shaken to my core, because for some I have been the only solid thing to hold onto in a moment where the world was collapsing around them, because I have been on both sides of the storm, and there would be no beauty without both sides. 

Today I Speak.

You know, as I have spent much time praying for all my friends right now who are hurting I feel that its time to say the things we all refuse to address. We are losing our friends, our brothers, our sisters, our parents, our children... To tragedy that has a very real but very preventable consequences. Addiction, alcoholism, depression, and mental illness. We choose to sweep these topics under the rug because while we're out smiling laughing drinking and having fun with the very same family members and friends, we do not go home with them to see the real consequences of our fun nights out and how the fun stops for many many people as soon as the lights go out and they are alone again. Sometimes we know they have a problem, yet instead of bringing it into the light we choose to ignore it and go have another drink with them. We ask them how they are but never stop to really listen to their answer. We expect them to pull themselves out of it, to toughen up, and tell them its really not that bad. I am here to tell you it really is that bad. It is not a matter of self pity and poor choices, although those do factor in at some point. But to save lives, the lives of the people we care so much about, yet really never take the time to truly check in with, to see if they really are okay, we have to ignore our bias and our judgment on their poor choices because when it gets to the end it is no longer choice for them no matter what their issue is. This is not a problem of an individual, it is a problem of the society that begins to normalize the behaviors that lead to such tragic consequences for some of our loved ones. Not everyone who suffers depression will die, not everyone who gets drunk on the weekends will be an alcoholic, not everyone who popped a pill or chooses to use an illegal substance will be an addict. But for those of us who do not respond the same way to drugs and alcohol and depression and mental illness as the average Joe, they fight themselves every day for their lives and the lives of those they love. I'm tired of watching my friends die and get sick and truly suffer. We can't save everyone, but we are all guilty of looking the other way and hoping that they will be ok the next day. We have to take accountability for our part in their own self destruction and know when to put the party on hold, and really rip open the wounds that are being covered up with drugs and alcohol and denial and pain so that we can all heal together. There is no easy solution. It is a long hard road. I know because I walk that path too. My own mental illness and struggles with covering up my pain have left me in some moments where I didn't know if I would live to see the next day and truly hoped I would not live to feel more pain and hopelessness. I am lucky because I found some amazing support from people I never expected to reach out and be here for me. I am living with joy I never thought possible, because even in my previous best days there was still that emptiness that consumed everything. Everyday I fight with an army of friends and family behind me who know me well enough to know when it's time to stop the party and check in, really check in with how each of us are doing and when someone is not doing well, we go to any lengths to ensure that each one of us wakes up the next day. We don't have to do it alone, but we can no longer look at this as someone else's problem. It is all of our problem, and together we are the solution.