I don’t know why…

I don’t know why we don’t talk about suicide more, well actually I do. Eventhough history has shown us that the more we talk about something, the more we are educated and made aware of that anomaly and how to handle or cope with it.

As with sexuality and religion, we have gained so much because people stopped being afraid to talk. Certain things are no longer taboo or floating amongst the unmentionables.

Talking about suicide is not easy but it is necessary in order for us to gain knowledge and understanding. Suicide needs to be brought into focus and addressed, not hidden, shamed and blamed.

Suicide has such a giant stigma attached to it, in fact, several. One being the feeling of failure and hopelessness as a parent or someone who was close to the person. The feeling that you failed them completely. Your job was to protect your kid, know everything about your friend, keep them safe…we didn’t do that , we failed. We weren’t enough for them to stay in this world with us and go through it with us. Didn’t they know that we would’ve done anything for them? Didn’t they know they could talk to us? Didn’t they know that we wouldn’t judge them or make fun of them? Why didn’t they know that or feel that? How did we fail so badly to not let that person know how much we loved and needed them, how important they were in our world, how different life is without them and instead having to live with the guilt and doubt. It’s heavy, the burden weighs like a black hole in outer space…

Then there is the shame that goes with being the parent of a child or the partner/husband/wife who has committed suicide. Shame is different to guilt. Shame is the sadness I feel at not being able to correct something that was wrong and I should have. Guilt is the feeling of being responsible for the end result. Neither one of those feelings may be validated in real life, but now that someone has taken their life, it changes those left behind.

There is the question of why, which never goes away. The wonder, the wishing, the ache that it could just change back to when you were here, and alive – it never goes – that wonder, that ache…

A Survivor

The Empty Room

the empty room

I remember being trapped in a lift once. At first it didn’t occur to me to panic – being the reasonably stable individual I am. I just slid down the elevator wall and squatted at the bottom, thinking of other things to while the time away. What really planted that little seed of fright was when the intercom crackled on and some disjointed voice announced that there was going to be a slight delay – yeah right! A delay as in repairs being made to cabling blah blah blah. That’s when something started chewing at the base of my brain. I could feel that icy trickle of panic beginning to seep into and numb the rational part of my brain. I imagined the lift plummeting down thirteen storeys with me in it. A compact human body, being mine of course – discovered under the dusty rubble. Or maybe in three years time, after not wanting to repair the lift they find a grinning skeleton – or perhaps just my crushed bones…

Well I started chewing my fingernails. I say that, but it’s not the actual nail bit but the little pieces you can shred off the side. Making my thumb bleed didn’t help at all and I was eternally grateful to the Universe that I wasn’t a hemophiliac. So then I started pacing out the elevator for size. It was four by four, or by six or four by eight or something. After a while the size didn’t matter – and I never thought I would say that with absolute honesty, but it didn’t. After a while my squares turned into circles and I was still gnawing at my fingers, nails inclusive now.

The appalling thought of needing to pee enveloped me and I was shamed into believing that I would just have to release my bodily functions in this confined space should it come to that.

At least two hours had passed and I was beginning to feel strange – almost like I was in a shimmery bubble. Fortunately they let me out, tearful and shaky, about twenty minutes later. Two and a half hours is a long time to be stuck in a lift – I truly thought I was going to go insane.

I’ve never been one to be claustrophobic or anything, but that lift episode really scared the begeezuz out of me. I always took the stairs after that, I just couldn’t get in a lift. Well I went for a drink with a friend of mine who had always been really terrified of heights. He said his worse fear was that he would be pushed out of a window or fall out of a building from too high up to survive. He said he had nightmares about it and it was absolutely ruining his life; work-wise and socially – let alone emotionally and the psychological toll a lack of sleep was taking on him. He said he dreamt of his arms frantically flailing to reach a hold that he could see but always he clutched at nothing. He screamed for help helplessly, as no one would ever hear him. His lover would wake him up as he had been screaming in his sleep and often hit them with his flailing limbs. Now I’d never experienced anything like that. Never had I suffered from “bad dreams” or nightmares of being trapped in a confined space at all, or trapped. When I was a kid we would hide in boxes and cupboards during games or to give someone a fright. I never felt trapped or scared then, just anticipatory. I was the frighter not the frightee and it was exciting. I could wait for ages in the crawlspace, tiny aperture or cupboard waiting for my prey to step by. Or huddle tightly and quietly in some of the darkest and smallest places, waiting to be found.

Many so-called professionals say that you should live out your fear and it will solve your problem – but I wasn’t afraid. I met my friend again and we went out for lunch. I asked him about his own phobia about heights and falling. “Well, y’know…” he said between bites, ” I know myself that this stuff is just in my head. I’ve spent a fortune on shrinks and been to a few – they all say the same thing – it’s in your mind, babe.” He stopped eating and looked at me while his tongue sought the escapee’s around his mouth and tidy teeth. “Doesn’t mean I’m cured though….” he mumbled and carried on eating.

But it did make sense. It was all in my head, my stupid brain, my over-active imagination and analytical mind. No matter how many times I told myself this though, I still could not get into a lift. Moving or otherwise I couldn’t do it. I knew I had to be brave and thought of ways to make it less traumatic. In fact it might be easier if I see a bunch of people in a lift I could squeeze in – at least I wouldn’t be all alone. There would be someone to talk to.

So today’s the day! I have decided to find a people-packed lift. I will walk through those lift doors and they will close. I will be carried up to my destination and everything will be just fine. Absolutely fine. Well…I did it! I went in the lift, sure I hyperventilated a little and blamed the air-conditioning. It’s not like I was scared or anything like that. I journeyed to the first floor but walked back down via the stairwell. The lift was busy, too packed. All you do is stand around waiting to get in and then get spewed out on one floor or another – it was a waste of time when you could just walk.

Life seems to be so much better in the summertime. Everything regains its glamour and beauty. Even people do – well some of them. Summer is a time for barbecues, hot late nights, swimming, playing and loving. We went on wild yachting weekends, champagne breakfasts and innumerable parties. We took off for an amazing holiday in Honolulu – total luxury and decadence. There were white sandy beaches, hot sun, beautiful people and drinks served in hollowed out fruits. We were there for three weeks and came back home ready to knuckle down and work. Refreshed, renewed and invigorated. No time for lifts – what lifts?

Ignorance is bliss. It’s no big deal – I’m just not interested in travelling in elevators or lifts. Some people are not interested in baking or stamp collecting either. I had heard a story about a woman who was terrified of germs and she used to hold her breath when she was in a hospital or medical clinic of some sort. She kept fainting, she was so terrified that her brain overrode the fear so that she could keep breathing and would knock her out! Now, come on – I am no way that bad. I mean that is silly, air is a necessity – I know, I’ve been trapped in an elevator.

The weird thing is, I’ve been having these really weird dreams about elevators. I was mainly travelling through space in them and I feel very very edgy, unsafe. Like some feminised Doctor Who in an elevator not a phone booth…ridiculous. But I would wake up sweating and feeling incredibly anxious, as if I was waiting for something to happen to me. No, more like expecting something to happen to me. It’s no biggie though – I can cope, it’s just a little disruptive to my sleep pattern, is all.

A couple of nights later I’m lying fast asleep and I dream I’m shooting unpredictably through space and it suddenly jolts to a halt. I wait – the doors open and it’s a hospital. I have to hold my breath or the germs will get in and smother me, my lungs, eat through my heart and brain. This is not good – panic has set in and I’m holding my breath, holding. I’m pressing the buttons in the lift – even just to close the door! I feel like I’m pressing the buttons through the wall and nothing is connecting. I’m stuck in this lift – the worst thing that could ever happen to me. I can feel my face cracking as tears and sobs are overriding the desire to not breathe in disease. Thank God I’m breathing though. The breathing is turning into convulsions, I’m going to die in that elevator and it’s dawned on me. I scream so hard the veins pump blood in rushing gulps to my head. My face is all screwed up and ugly. Somehow I’m looking down on myself – I’m watching me die, it’s almost funny.

I wipe my face with the back of my hand. The snot and tears are all down my face and like a gibbering idiot I am begging anyone and anything to let me out. I see myself in the metal walls, my clothes look so dishevelled and I don’t know when it happened but the doors had closed sometime during my hysterical tantrum. I bang on the doors and walls, air seems to be hard to suck in – like it’s syrup. Suddenly things slow down, I watch my tears thud into the company carpet. Slowly it occurs to me that the elevator is my coffin and I am dying in it. I always thought I’d be dead before I got this far! You are supposed to be dead before you got put in a coffin. This is unbelievable. But here I was, scratching at a coffin lid. Splinters of wood from the detail around the metal find their way up under my fingernails. It hurts but I don’t care. I’m bleeding but I don’t care. I’ve gone beyond. My clothes are drenched with sweat and the heat and closeness is overbearing. I feel the walls getting closer and closer and fortunately I blacked out and don’t remember anything else.

Apparently they found me in my bedroom wardrobe. The door was pretty scratched up and covered in my blood and so was I. I was unconscious when they found me, as I mentioned and I guess I’m lucky to tell live to tell the tale – passing out is most probably what saved me.

I woke up screaming about the elevator apparently, and that still happens now and again – maybe even more now. Everyone here at the hospital tries to tell me it’s only an empty room. But I know better than that. They have elevators there if you wait patiently – when you’re a patient there’s not much else to do but waiting. And like they say, it’s all in the mind and mine goes there.

A Fair Ultimatum

ULTIMATUM letting-go

If you can allow yourself

to love me baby

I’ll hold you, rock you,

Love you through every night

If you’re not scared to

show me baby

I’ll do my very best to make it

all right

But I feel you haven’t

let go baby

And it’s not really all

about me

You have to let your feelings

show baby

You have to love me or let me

be free

© Kait King, 2015

God’s Diamonds

Gods Diamonds 7d9eebc0cd7e02435bcf750956ebccba

God left diamonds

in my garden today

Draped elegantly over tall

wild grasses

clinging in teardrop perfection

from the arch of an unfurling koru

God left diamonds

in my garden today

The sun pushing a rainbow

paradigm through this

sparkling rare

jewel of Nature

God left diamonds

in my garden today

Worn with a breathtaking beauty

a spider’s web is adorned

Dripping in dew-drop diamonds

A lavish gold in sunlight

Every color of

every gem in any brilliant spectrum

lies here at my feet

in the garden

the beauty around me

The Earth

She is my wealth –

God left diamonds

in my garden…

Kait King 2017

Pick me

pickme

Please don’t pick me

not again

I’m terrified

so frightened I can’t

breathe

It hurts and I can’t

see

through the tears I don’t know

I’m crying

Universe,

Please stop me

now

before it’s too late

and time

steals you away

from me

too brief

to painful

this I can’t do

Please,

Please Universe

don’t pick me

© Kait King, 2015

My SupaSista

SupaSista

This is for my amazing SupaSista

Who has been my strength throughout

My bestest friend and my sister

I just couldn’t do without

Tea and piklet scarfing

Feeling handbags and clothes

Sharing everything like it’s with myself

Things no one else knows

I’ve been at my lowest

Boy that was lowest low

And there she was like a shining beacon

Loving me and letting me know

Happy Birthday to my incredible, dynamic, smart, funny and beautiful sister – I can’t tell you how blessed I feel that you’re a part of MY family! I love you so much xxx

When you let me in

beautiful-immortal-vampires-eternal-lovers

When we are

touching skin

when you have

let me in

With a dream-like

essence

I feel your

presence

the heat from

your skin

when you let me in

I know there

are no lies

I can see it

in your blue eyes

I can feel it

from your mouth

I can hear it in

your blazing skin

when you let me in

the goose bumps on

your flesh

and our kiss

can only express

we are so lost

it must be a sin

but only when

you let me in

© Kait King, 2015

Just to Be

Just to be

Just to be painless

I need to be numb

Just to be painless

I must be made dumb

I can’t connect

but just lie in a bed

Life laughs

at my bet

Just to be painless

I can’t be me

Just to be painless

I can’t be free

Just to be painless

and live a life

I wanted to live

The purpose

that would give

Just to be painless

© Kait King, 2016

At Lunch Today

today-at-lunch-sleeping-couple

At lunch today

I fell a little more

in love with you

Your smile grazes the

inside of my heart with

such passion

At lunch today

your blue eyes brighter

for seeing me

Sparkling over

sparkling water

with just a hint

of lemon

that cannot sour

our chemistry

At lunch today

while I watched you

talk

I followed your lips

watched your mouth

heard nothing

and thought just

about kissing

I love lunch with you

© Kait King, 2017

Suicide – is it really a free ticket out?

Suicide

With a delicate stillness

and a quiet noise

with porcelain perfection

and perfect China poise

the body is supine

lying dead on the floor

supine in exsanguination

a choice to become Death’s whore

Ruby red your favourite colour

you wear it very well

although I won’t see you out much

a story we will tell

Did you get off scot-free?

Did you truly escape?

Or will you have to pay your dues

and return to this landscape…

© Kait King, 2015

A Seeker

A seeker

I don’t want to be here

I don’t want to be here alone

I don’t want to be here alone in my empty zone

I want to love

I want to love again

I want to love again and be free of all this pain

I can’t do it

I can’t just let it go

I can’t just let it go and pretend I didn’t know

My soul aches

My soul and my heart ache badly

They ache for man’s cruel inhumanity

I’m a seeker

I’m a seeker of love, peace and harmony

I’m a seeker – please tell me you’ll follow me

© Kait King, 2015

Damn you, Dementia…

Mum at Kai Iwi Lakes, January 2019

You’ve watched me

Grow up

I’ve watched you

grow old

And I speak for you

Now

When I used to do

As I was told

Your face is

Still the same

And your eyes…

They sometimes

know

But your words

Are lost on me

And you

You don’t want me

To go…

I kiss you

Many times

Touch your face

And hug you

Tight

You ask me

Where my Dad is

You’re shocked

When I say

He’s gone…

into

The light

Kait King 2019

Sweet Sugar Spike!

Sweet sugar spike

I am a chocolate addict

call me what you will

Mouth open wide

Chocolate pouring in

that’s how I’d get

my thrill

I am a sugar junkie

call it how you want

I order a starter to have

dessert

at the restaurant

Sweet tooth, sweet freak

call it what you like

but nothing makes me happier

than my sweet sugar

spike!

© Kait King, 2015