Dear God,

I am just a grain of sand.

I am no one special;  no special talent

With a Hidden Agenda

I speak from the hearts and confess what mind suppresses.

One question: How much longer will hate win?

Two Questions: How much longer shall our children suffer?

Three Questions: When is it ok to hate? When Is it okay to withdraw my love, and hold what’s left and sacred deep within my heart?

Are all men not created equal? Are we not your creations, and you our creator? It is your voice that which shakes the oceans, howls the wind; ceases trepidatious storms, makes the sunshine; fresh dew drops on each leaf, and a cool breeze?

Are you this God I speak of? Are you this God I’ve read about, dreamed about and desire?

I just speak from the hearts of my people.

When will the spread of innocent blood on our streets end?

Lady Justice, why are your eyes still covered? Lady Justice do you hear the screams from the grave, from the prevalence of injustice and shouts from the living who are shouting and not being heard, and when silent they are then accused. Lady Justice, when will you put an end to this?

If my skin is not white as snow, and eyes as blue as the sky, my voice is limited, my life is non-equivalent, my rights are non-existent, but my money is appreciated. Lady Justice you’ve helped the 1% and failed the public. Were your slaves, working for dimes and pennies while you shit gold and your urine flows out diamonds; at our, the public, the other 99% expense.

I walk around with an empty stomach, while your latte is $7 bucks. I’m visible during the holidays, but 352 days a year, my face is invisible. I’m hungry, will you feed me. My child is malnutrition, will you feed them.

We attend church to pray and worship an invisible God with the hope of tangible and miraculous answers. So we grip faith with our lingering, cavity and plaque-filled teeth.

Does anyone hear me? Does anyone see me? Am I relevant? Am I a person; a human being? Does my blood no longer shed red? Does my heart no longer matter?

To ignore my cries, and cover your stains you medicate me. Ativan, Prozac, Xanax, Morphine, and Oxycotin. Now I’m addicted and to fix it I’m not relying on Methadone and treated like a criminal when in reality I’m your scientific experiment (me) went wrong.

Oh God, do you see my arms? Oh  God, do you hear your people desperate of a savior a new home? Oh God, show yourself! NO longer be silent. I hear the chaos when I need to hear your peace and feel your love.

One thing that remains

One thing that’s the same

The Rich and Poor Alike

The healthy and sick alike

The Mentally Ill and Addict alike

We all have a void, an empty presence

We all have questions and no answers

We all bleed red, and we’re running out of band-aids

We all crave like a drug

We all feel empty at the end of each day

Crave that gun, but we know there are not bullets

We crave a God, a creator, a universal presence

Not to fix problems

But to give the Earth, your Bride a hug

We crave God and his voice

We are like children throwing a tantrum, yelling “look at me; look at me”

And hoping for a father, to open his arms

Lift us up, and embrace us

To feel safe once again

To know that and comprehend the words “I love you, my beloved”

To be tucked in bed

And provided a nights rest

Trials and Tribulations won’t stop, hunger won’t end, poverty won’t end

Until the day Jesus returns

So we must endure like a good soldier, thankful for our journey; for it pushes us closer to HIM

In HIM we ARE

In us is HIM

We are with HIM until the end and beyond the timing of man

May God be with us.

 

 

Sometimes your heart just hurts.

Sometimes your mind is broken.

Sometimes you don’t have the answer to that question.

Sometimes, you just need a nap and to suck your thumb

Sometimes the words don’t come out correctly, instead of tears flowing

Sometimes loneliness is continuity

Happiness seems relative

Most of the time you just need a shoulder to cry

A hug is a prescription you really needed

Often you just want a safe place to stay, a place of your own to call home

Sometimes you’re just hungry and need to be feed

At times you want others to feel your pain

We all want relief and a savior from life, but realize we just have to keep pushing. Some nights are just going to be tearful, and mornings filled with delays. Sunglasses to hide the bags under your eyes and deep-fried Oreos to mask your pain.

Then there will be times when nothing is enough, and death seems like a solution, but your hearts are pumping “life”

I often want to give up, but I just don’t know how. A failure is never an option, the consequence is regret. There is no pill for that.

My grandma died, my rock is gone. I’ve received two hugs since her death, and I need a few more. I’m trying to be uplifting, but I need a place to be human. I yearn to hear the words “I love you” maybe one day, but not today. I’m crying because that woman who cause significant pain, was the one person who provided great joy. I’m motherless and my mom still lives, fatherless and my father still lives. I’m a twin and I don’t know where my other half is. I feel conflicted and I feel stronger, because I know I’ll see past this. I’m scared of my own strength and denying my ability to become more than I could have ever dreamt

My rocks story has ended, and mine is yet beginning. Death is not easy and is not my solution. Life is bearing, and yet asking to be defined. I’m am more than my illness. I am more than my insecurities. I may never get that hug or affirmation again, but I’ve experienced it. I hold it dear to my heart. I fall on my knees every night and thank God for it. I have one thing that many has never “yet” to achieve.

I have a life. Not of my own strength but that of a higher power. I can make it because my rock made it. At my grandma’s funeral, I saw how beautiful she looked, but I didn’t recognize her face. Then I looked at her hands, I saw each wrinkle. I regret not touching her one last time. I remember those hands, and in the congregation saw her legacy, and then I prayed that I’d to one day reach old age, and be wrinkled; for each wrinkle showed strength and not a weakness.

I know what it’s like to be hungry. I know what it’s like to be homeless. I know what it’s like to be mentally ill. I know what it’s like to attempt suicide and live. I know what it’s like to experience death and feel regret for still living. I’m earning my wrinkles and gaining wisdom and strength. Thank you GOD! Thank you GOD!

Job in the bible said it best, “The Lord gives, The Lord takes; PRAISE BE THE LORD”

 

Domenia Dickey

 

 

 

Them: You broke your wing I see, of what help can I be?

Me: What you see is external, whats broken is my mind and the heart it follows. Do you see my daily hallucinations, lingering thoughts of despair, desire for love and transparency, the battle between fear and inadequacy, survival of the fittest they say, and I question why is my reality different from my night and day

Them: Feelings are not facts, sometimes we see the worst of us and we need one another to heal a wing, deliver a word that’s positively non-psychological. Sometimes we are our own worst enemies and the true roadblock in our pathways. So say what it is, but don’t allow what it is to be a hindrance. Allow yourself to heal

Me: Alone in a room just me, and me.  Sitting on a bed that is not my own, stuck in my head. I feel fatigue and over-shadowing darkness, I cant lift up my head so I cry instead. I want a heart to be honest with to say I’m afraid, I’m hurting, I feel alone and really just want a hug. No family, few friends, and a semi textbook education. Fear of failure, fear of success, fear of accepting myself to see my strengths and good, while acknowledging the bad. The hallucination is comforting, they’re what I know, my voices yelling, tactile hallucinations giving me affection photo delusions are my directions. But I know they have to go. This darkness swallows me, I can’t get out of bed, I’m dying in hopes to be free. If I kill myself I’m free no more pain no more anything. Life is limited, death is permanent and comforting, and delivers the attention I’m too afraid of asking for. I just want a transparent heart to talk to and break bread with. Instead of being in my head. An open heart, not judgmental and hostile but sarcastic, funny, educate and dedicated. I want to hear someone say “I’m dedicated to you, your success ad well being, you’re not alone I can be your family”

Them: Recovery is possible

Me: I’m not an addict or an ex-con. I have schizoaffective disorder a mental illness. What do I need to recover from I did nothing wrong?

Them: You don’t need to have done something wrong in order to recover. But when we get sick we need to get well so guess (in a sarcastic, comical voice) “welcome to RECOVERY” We can be your new family, we’re (I’m) not getting rid of you. I’m here to help you, Crisis is here to help you, Continuum of Care is here to help you. You just have to say “yes”

Me: ugh, “yes”

Them: It won’t happen in a day and sometimes you will get sick again, but you’ll recover a lot faster

Me: I’m fucking scared. I’ve trusted before and was left abandon, I can’t take another broken wing. My heart hurts and I’ll keep crying.

Them: No one is perfect, we are all human, but we are in our humanity this is apart of Recovery.

Me: My wing feels stronger, I think I can fly. So I, I call, will someone answer

Them: Day and Night

Them: Well then you’ve got to change your thinking pattern, talk to people go to church, make friends and slow recovery will happen.

Me: So I’ll fly to my new home and see you on Friday 🙂

 

*I think you were once a thug in real life lol…naw…I wish I could hear your recovery story* #insider

This, whatever you’d like to call it is dedicated to Continuum of Care Connecticut and their Crisis and Respite housing in New Haven  CT. This is also dedicated to the staff of Crisis and Respite, the best Clinical Director John L, and Program Director Jill G. This is a transcript of multiple conversations between myself and Jill and how Continuum of Care gave me a second chance. Thank-you. I promise to always be a pain in your ass but to return to love and gifts you’ve given throughout my lifetime.