A Breakthrough Recovery

Good morning, good evening, and good night! I am very excited to be back online with you all. I have so much to say, and even more to be thankful for. A big thank you to my followers and supporters for the well wishes and prayers over the course of my absence.

Before I went offline, I know there was a pattern you all could see in my writings. I created this blog site as a positive outlet for me, yet my writings became darker and more emotionally wrecking as the time went by. My writings became more sparse and depressing as one year bled into the next. Eventually, it stopped. I understand that many of you may have noticed this pattern and continued offering your support. For that, I am forever grateful.

As much as I would have liked to begin fresh with a new year, I was in the darkest tunnel I could have possibly imagined myself being in. I had to make the hardest decision of my life on the turn of 2018-2019. It has been over a year, yet that choice continues to haunt me during the day and leave me curled up at night. I understand it was for the best, but going through such difficulty without support has been shattering. (I miss you, my little one)

Earlier this year, at the turn of 2020, I would have loved to say that I was ready to show myself to the world again. I was almost there; I was so very close. One slap in the face sent me spiraling backwards into a place I had not been before. In all my years of depression, I never saw the fork in the road. Last January, I was there.

I had the choice: continue in self destructive behaviors which have been hindering my growth, or focus inwards and upwards to get in touch with my spirituality. I chose the latter.

It has now been 3 months since I made that conscious choice to continue forwards. I have struggled endlessly to let go of the threads tying me to the past. It has been an intense journey of self-identity. I learned a lot about myself. With the help of my amazing therapist, I was also able to tackle the root of every single action, thought, and feeling that I had. That was what helped me the most.

Truly, how can I come to love myself, appreciate who I am, and build a better version of yesterday, if I did not understand myself. How could I have expected others to understand me, when I did not even know myself. It was a selfish request, to ask to be held and cared for when I could not reciprocate that for myself. I do not blame myself, though. A mind with mental illness is not one to be judged.

The first time I felt this fog could have been lifted was in September of 2019. With the help of my therapist and my family, I took a much-needed vacation to myself and enjoyed time in the wilderness of the Midwest. I was truly on top of the world.

View from my cabin in the mountains

It was such a breathtaking location. I breathed and breathed and breathed. I soaked it in. I could not stop wondering at the beauty of the world. I could not stop wondering at what I could not see before.

It crossed my mind a few times; I wish you were here. Let us come to this place together. If you were with me, I would ——
That was completely acceptable. I had come here to heal, and avoiding and pushing my thought away would seal them in the fragile jar I hold all my trauma in. So, I felt.

I felt, I lived, and I breathed.
I wished you away and out of my heart.

I tried my best, I really did. I was okay. I felt okay. I did things I thought I would love. I completed a 1,000 piece puzzle. I went on a hike. I treated myself to nice desserts and foods I craved. I relaxed in the sauna and outdoor hot tub in the cabin. I watched some of my favorite movies. I felt like I could do this. I could tackle the world.

Funnily enough, I also went on a chair lift. I thought this might be good to be in the fresh air, exposed and vulnerable. I left that for the end of my vacation. I built up my courage and bought my ticket. Mind you, I am absolutely terrified of heights.

View from the chairlift, where I spent 20 minutes crying

I had a few realizations, suspended in midair with nothing but a loose bar keeping me in place. I was scared stiff. I was terrified of dying. I did not want to fall; I did not want to die. I did not want to die. It hit me so hard. I did not want to die.

Then came the tears. I was horrified and ashamed, that I could have wanted to leave such a beautiful place. I was in complete shock that I could not even see the beauty of life or of this world.
That was my first breakthrough.

By the time I made it back home, the high of living in the mountains wore off. Winter settled in and with it came the need to feel your arms around me once again. In my hometown, everything reminded me of you. And with that reminder of you came a reminder of what I lost and what I had to give up. It was a very difficult transition, attempting to live a normal life. However, that journey gave me hope. If I had broken through once, even just to see the glimmer of what a life without a mental fog looks like, then I believed it could happen again.

I am now at that point.

The clouds have cleared and I am able to see the sun. I can relish in the beauty of this world and I can love. I can love because I have loved.

I loved and I loved and I loved

I loved myself to a point where I know that no one can treat me harshly ever again. I know this because the hardest person on me was myself. I will not allow myself to be stepped on, used, abused, nor neglected. I will not allow myself to turn into my enemy.

I will not be Sunshine dimmed by clouds.

Train Wreck

I want to write but it hurts too much and I slow down.
My engine sputters and my breathe slows.
the wheels screech and my lips part.
a sound

a piercing sound like no other
a deafening sound which fills my ears like cotton

burning my mind, like the fire sparking at the wheels

the weight
the weight tips me over
and the metal hub crashes
covering the terrible sound of sirens wailing in the distance

the rumble of the earth, the beating of my heart
it causes a great catastrophe

it is over. She is gone. I am dead.
They are too late. The damage is done.

We created a train wreck.

Poetry by Sunshine. Check out my page for more writings!

Without You.

There are so many words on the tip of my tongue,
burning, pushing, crying to get out.
I find some spill over the edge of my lips, but it is never enough. Never enough to satisfy the need of communication.
There is so much to be said, with so many things I wish to clarify.

There is an aching desire to spill my thoughts and have my feelings gazed upon.
Yet if I were given the opportunity to speak again, I would be at loss of what to relay.

For these words come in many forms.

What would I speak of? Where would I speak from?
The sharp edges of the broken pieces of my heart?
Or perhaps the softness of my lips as I remember yours?
It may be from the tenderness of my touch as I think of your skin against mine.
These words may also overflow from my eyes in the form of tears as I remember the betrayal of those I loved most.

How will I choose to speak my feelings, given the opportunity?

Just as a bag bursts at the seams when too full, so do my lips as they part and the words come tumbling out,
too many rumbling inside of me to ignore.

In a case like this, I would have one wish.
Not to speak eloquently.
Not profess my undying love.
Not to announce my pain.


My wish would be for you to understand the mess I am portraying.

My wish would be for my words to match my feelings and actions so that you may understand how I am feeling.

My wish would be for you to realize how I am living.
Without you.

Poetry by Sunshine.

All credit of artwork goes to original owner.

Artwork belongs to Instagram user @arthiyya

if you miss me… look at the moon

if you miss me

look at the moon and know that the face you see in it is my reflection staring into the sky

if you miss me

look at the moon and know that the light it shines is how much brighter my life is with you in it

if you miss me

look at the moon and remember all the memories we had under it

The Overflowing Journal, Poetry

Photo and Poetry by Sunshine ☀️

suppressed emotion

This abrupt feeling of hatred and hurt that grows like a beast inside my belly and suffocates like mold on my heart… where is it coming from

Why do I feel the clasp of suppressed emotion around my soul, as though one is in distress and clenched his fist around me

How does this sudden change inside of me grow to become my personality

What is that horrible stimulant that makes me feel oppressed and dark

For years I have been fighting this battle with myself.. this battle of having a third hand Continue reading suppressed emotion

when i write

i find myself writing
at times when my heart is bleeding
at times when my tears are flowing
at times when my hands are shaking
                when my bones are aching
                when the world is spinning
                        and the sky is falling
i find myself writing
                when my fingers shiver
                        and my lips quiver
i find myself writing
                when my pain is immense
                        and my jaw is tense
i find myself writing
                when i have been hurt
at times when i wish to return to dirt.
Poetry by Sunshine

Please Note: all writing belongs to me. The photo was taken off the internet; all credit goes to original owner.

Black Man White Man

Black Man White Man

he was glowin
a man of melanin
proud of his skin

then came the White man
with a face full of hate
he beat him
he broke him
he spat in his face
told him he was dirty
humanity’s disgrace

the Black man smiled
he was not one to be beat
with pride and with love
he told the White man ‘no’
he knew he was worthy
for God told him so

the White man shook
for he knew he was right
and needed to feel mighty
so he led another fight

he hurt and he bruised
left the Black man in chains
he hunted and he killed
all out of contempt
for he knew the Black man’s power
and made another attempt

year after year
the fight carried on
with the Black man’s voice rising
‘why not just get along’

it is now 2020
the Black man has not broke
he may have been hurt
for the White man stepped on his throat
but his voice is not silenced
as it echoes
through many an anecdote

we hear you say
we hear you cry
oh Black man,
we promise to try

to tame this man of White
takes the courage of a country
but the Black did it
with no solidarity

we now stand
we now rise
as the next and final tide
against the violence of the White man
we hear you, oh man of melanin
we hear you cry