the letter brought the storm


you stopped by today, and i didn’t even see your face i felt your presence, and i knew it was there. you left a letter at the door and as soon as i saw it I knew it was from you. but why now, why after all this time. the time that i thought i needed and was finally starting to heal. why did you pop back up out of nowhere and bring the pain.

i left because i had to. i left because i had no other choice. i left because i was sick of the pain, and the hurt. that took courage, courage that i didn’t know i had. courage that i know now that i definitely don’t have. you broke me. you broke me into a million pieces. i don’t know how to be whole again, and i pity the next guy i choose to love because he’s going to have to go on a scavenger hunt to find all these pieces that you left everywhere.

you thought you were doing a genuine thing, but you couldn’t be more wrong. you’re not going to win me back, but you’re still finding a way to hurt me. you are the storm that pops up in my life every now and then, and sends me spinning. i can’t get a hold on anything stable, because you tear it from my fingers time and time again.

i need to find a way to weather the storm of you. i need to find a way to prepare myself for the drought, and find a way to stay afloat during the rain.

i leave you with this. me.


p.s (read the bold for my new sentiment)


ashley brianne 



three questions

Trying to breathe is supposed to be something that comes naturally, but breathing for me is the furthest from natural.

I feel attached to a machine that is slowly draining the life out of me through each new challenge.

Trying to breathe is something that my mind is constantly wrestling with. How can you breathe when you don’t even have the energy to get out of bed in the morning? Breathing is supposed to be natural…yeah well so is being happy and living. Two things that are the furthest from natural to me.

Happiness feels like a foreign object. It feels like something that I will never reach, and will strive for it my entire life. Happiness is a tease. It flirts with everyone around me, but never comes close enough for me to grasp it.

Being alive and living are two entirely different feelings as well. Being alive is just the mere existence of ourselves, but actually living is something that few people reach. Living is when you wake up every day with a smile in your eyes, and an attitude to go out and get the day. Living is when you turn being alive into a reality. Something I have yet to discover.

How to breathe?

How to be happy?

How to live?

Questions that my mind ponders every day, but will never have a solution for. Questions that will forever go unanswered.

just questions…..


Depression the secret killer

Depression to me is so much more than what a simple definition can let on. I like to call it the secret killer. Depression is a mental illness that affects every aspect of my life. I find it very difficult to get up out of bed most days. It cripples me, and makes every day a new struggle.

I get the question, “Are you okay?” practically every day. And I still have no response for that. How do you answer a question that you yourself can’t even answer? And no you can’t help me, because this problem can’t be fixed with kind words or small gifts. This is something that I just deal with because nothing else can be done about it. No I am not suicidal, and yes I have already gone to a doctor about this many times. This isn’t something that you can study, and read about and suddenly become an expert on it. This is something that is different for every person with no real “cure.”

This is my invisible crutch that I carry, and even an invisible man couldn’t help hold this up.

This is my weakness that sends me into a downward spiral of emotions, that leaves me stranded at the bottom of an emotional well. A well that is almost always full with problems, and feelings. But yet this well has it’s own gravity that holds those stuck just beneath the surface; you can see the world thriving around you, and yet you can’t reach out those few inches to touch it.

Depression is my secret killer, that stalks from afar shouting at every imperfection. My secret killer that strangles me without the need to make contact. The secret killer that has me tied around his little finger, and can send my world burning with just the snap of a finger.

sentiment to the game

volleyball – the game that I have loved all my life, the game that I have pushed myself the hardest in, the game that brought so much happiness, the game that gave me so much happiness, the game that will forever have my whole heart, the game that now only brings me pain, the game that has crushed me, the game that continues to tug at my emotion every time I talk about it

they say when you love something set it free…but that’s bullshit. how can you just give up something that you care about so much, and just walk away and pretend its nothing. its bullshit.

Volleyball provided an outlet for me. It gave me something to look forward to every day. When I had any issues I would let it go through my playing, and it helped me to balance out my emotions. But after that door closed the emotions became stuck behind the door for my happiness. My emotions became trapped with no outlet. That’s where all the pain lies within myself. That trapped pain has only progressed further to the depression and anxiety that now consumes me.

For the most part I hold myself together, but its so hard when all of your best friends play, and you’re just engulfed in the sport. Today is when it hit the hardest.

I sat there paralyzed with sadness watching my old teammates play alumni. The gym was filled with the passion for volleyball. I watched them have the time of their lives while I sat alone. Today was like being stuck in an enclosed fish tank sitting in a lively fish pond. The tank is transparent, and you can see through it, but it’s closed and you can’t leave it. The pond bolsters community, happiness, friendship, life, but I’m stuck here forced to watch alone. I can’t leave this tank because it has been cemented shut with emotions of torment and pain. I can’t attempt to shatter the glass between the two because it would put both me and the pond in danger. I can’t call for help because everything around me is moving at a far faster pace. I feel stuck almost in a perpetual hell.

My own perpetual hell.

You know how when they would accuse woman on witchcraft how sometimes they would tie them to chairs and dunk them in rivers, if they floated they were a witch and if they drowned they weren’t. That’s perpetual hell, because either way you’re not escaping it. If for some crazy reason you happened to float/survive you were deemed an official witch only to undergo other forms of torture and the death. If you didn’t float which was what was going to happen then you died on false accusations. Either way you look at it, you didn’t have a choice but to endure it.

I endure it. I have endured it, but at the same time I can’t escape it. Likewise I can’t escape my anxiety or depression. It is who I am. I don’t necessarily let these things define me, but they do take control over me time to time.

Volleyball to me wasn’t just a game. It was a lifestyle for me. When I was told that I wasn’t good enough it not only broke my spirit but broke my heart that day. I was blindsided. It was as if I never had a chance, and it was like I was a mouse being dangled on a thread just high enough that the cat couldn’t reach me, but then I was dropped. Not only dropped, but discarded. It made me feel so worthless. Words don’t describe the pain fully, it’s a hurt that shakes you to your core. It’s a hurt that comes in the middle of the night. It’s a hurt that runs through your bones. It’s a hurt that breaks almost everyone.

The difference between me and them is that it didn’t break me. Instead of falling helplessly into the cats mouth I fought back with every bone, fiber, hair, emotion in my body. My enemy is great, but I am greater.

I have accomplished so much more and have become so much stronger. I motivate myself to better myself. I set goals and I’ve met them. Through this struggle and journey I have realized what I am capable of. I’m always an athlete but this time around I’m stronger than the game.

The game doesn’t define me. I define me.

This time around it’s all about self-empowerment.

loving myself more and more everyday

it’s about time to shatter my fish tank and break down all my emotional strongholds and to start not only living but thriving again.

A.S 4/15/18

what they don’t tell you about depression/anxiety

they don’t tell you how hard it is to breath everyday – not physically but emotionally

they don’t tell you that the world doesn’t stop moving just because you don’t move – the world will continue to go on with or without you

they don’t tell you how hard it is to go out and be around people everyday – even the people that you love and care about

they don’t tell you how your brain shuts down all positive thoughts and fuels your brain full of fleeting negativity

they don’t tell you how the medicine might impact your daily life – and how many different tries it might take to get the right medicine

they don’t tell you about the waterfalls that pour from your eyes weekly, daily…hourly

they don’t know the full science behind it, and so they can only do so much for you.

they don’t tell you how it will impact your relationships with family and friends

they don’t tell you how many people don’t understand how to help you

they don’t tell you how you will never be the same after the constant fight

they don’t tell you how tired you are every day from the inner turmoil

they don’t tell you how your depression takes hostage of your brain

they don’t tell you how you can have suicidal thoughts but not be suicidal

they don’t tell you about the flashes of doubt that you will get when you’re driving down the road

they don’t tell you how one second you are happily driving – and all the sudden you see a tractor trailer and you think for a split second – why don’t I just drive in front of it and stop

they don’t tell you how much you lack control of your own life

they don’t tell you the sadness that will overcome your life

they don’t tell you how to be happy

they don’t tell you how you can make yourself happy

they don’t tell you that it will get better

they don’t tell you how to get better they don’t tell you how you watch your light fade – and return in spurts here and there

they don’t tell you when it will stop

they don’t tell you shit


but the difference between them and you is that they don’t know what you are capable of. they don’t know you. they will never know you. you are unique. you are worth it. you are more than enough. you will thrive. you are amazing. this too shall pass.





dreams turn to nightmares

I dream.

or at least I try to.

I have goals, and things I’d like to do with my life, but it always seems so far away.

It’s a dream but at the same time it becomes my biggest fear.

I want to accomplish so many things in life, but the weight of my mental health pins me down.

I have no chance of escape. I’m trapped at the bottom of the well. I can hear and see, and “Dream” about my ideal life. But will it ever happen?

It feels as if a cruel game. Life plays a game with my mind. It give me false hope and positive things, and then tears them away.

I dream to give myself hope, but in the same sense it perpetuates the idea of failure.

Failure has never been so real and close to be before.

With every new goal I dream of, I become one step closure to failure.

Are dreams really nightmares in disguise? Is this set up to give us a sense of security only to rip it out from us? What’s real anymore? Should we just stop dreaming and accept our fate?

When will I understand these questions that fill my mind.

Dreams v. Nightmares in a never ending fight to our deaths.


the sadness comes in waves,

waves that threaten to capsize my ship every second.

waves that push and push and push until it breaks through.

the only problem is unlike other storms you can’t see these waves coming.

these waves come at night.

they come when you’re at your lowest, because your ship isn’t prepared.

they come when your guard is down, and you’re comfy with how life is.

Mother Nature isn’t forgiving.

she doesn’t care about you or anyone but herself.

life exists simply around her.

waves constantly sneak up on the weak ships, and break them through the hull.

the sadness that comes in waves, doesn’t get better, it gets worse.

it gets worse when you realize you’re alone.


The moment before a branch splits,

It bends until it breaks.

The weight of the world weighing,

It down.

You can only tighten a guitar string so far,

It too breaks.

In trying to perfect the melody,

You lose sight of the chorus.

A rubber band,

With endless elasticity?

You pull, and pull,

And snap.

I have no bend.

I snap.

I snap.

And I snap.

Because to me,

Bending doesn’t exist.

Ashley Sweigart 11/19/2017

Can you prescribe people as a medicine?

Apparently my panic attacks have a real name? They are not just things that I make up in my mind. I’m not crazy? Well maybe I am, but what is so wrong with that?

I have been struggling for so long to define everything wrong with me, but in order to do that it would take years. But maybe there is nothing wrong with me. Maybe this is something that just happens to everyone, but then why is it so invisible?

Why do we hide our thoughts, and feelings? No two people are alike, but we can have similar disorders. I for one have at least 3 different ones that have been defined, but where are those people to talk to? Why don’t doctors prescribe people to deal with issues. When I say that I don’t mean therapists or mental health professionals, I mean everyday people who are just as crazy or not crazy as me. Instead of endless supplies of millions of different medicines, why not groups of millions of people that fit into my disorders.

It’s so much easier to talk to everyday people, than professionals that make you feel so insane. I don’t want to be told I’m crazy or to take this or that medicine. I want real people. and I want real feelings.

What’s so wrong with prescribing people, people?