Waking up already tired,
Just thinking of your life is painful;
Getting up requires strength
You feel you have never had,
So shutting your eyes suddenly seems
Like the most attractive choice.
The simple act of
And from your life you see no respite
(Why should one even need respite
From their own life,
Is a question you often ponder).
You can't get out of your head
Caught in the maelstrom of your thoughts.
You're so tired you just lay there
Yet sleeping is not an option:
The whirlpool drags you ever deeper
Into comatose asphyxiation.
The voices in your head
Contradict themselves constantly
So you don't know which to believe.
One lashes at you,
The scorn, palpable,
Makes you feel less than dirt
"Look at yourself, slob, you're disgusting!
You're always running late, you're fat and ugly,
There's not a thing you can do properly
You're a sad excuse for the human race."
The other one tries to build you up,
A gentle voice,
Telling you "You're doing great,
You're a good person
With your heart on your sleeve;
Your clients love you,
Come back year after year,
Word of mouth is all the publicity you need
Because your reputation is outstanding."
But that positive voice,
So gentle and fragile
Is drowned out by the vociferous one
Screaming repeatedly its scorn.
So you can't just think,
Like a normal person,
But have to question every single idea
That germinates into your mind,
Checking it's really you speaking
Not some cunning Medea.
Preparing food seems like
Such an insurmountable feat
Your body's hungry
But your mind doesn't want to know
Yet, moments later,
As you finally eat
From that meal
Distractedly prepared, with disgust,
Nothing is left in front of you
Not a single crust;
You ate more than your body needed
And right away regret it.
But you won't allow yourself to slide into
What you consider the next taboo.
If you ate too much, too bad for you:
You'll carry the weight of that decision
Shaming yourself publicly
With the extra pounds you've been taught to despise.
Stimulations are overwhelming:
You're scared by the sound of a drop
Falling from your shower,
A flashing light sends you into a fit,
A smell you can't stand;
You hear sounds that don't exist,
A constant humming in your ears;
Images are so vivid,
Even with your eyes closed;
The taste of your blood
Stays in your mouth
After you bit your tongue.
You feel helpless
Know you need help;
You need support
But do you deserve it?
What if you bothered anyone...
Dance in your mind:
Dangling from a rope
Or lying on train tracks,
You finally rid the world
Of one more burden.
And these images bring
But you're too scared
Or too coward
To go ahead with it;
That's what you'd been thinking
All those sleepless nights:
Even in death, you can't succeed!
You're a failure through and through
Why would the world need
Someone like you?
I started writing this poem in the morning. At a time I was just recovering from my last panic attack. Reading the prompt again tonight, I realise that I didn't explore at all the "How is madness linked to creativity". I just read "Write about mental illness".
So I did. My life has been crazy lately, dealing with... mental illness(!), so I didn't pay too much attention to form or rhyme. Let's say it's free-verse, I'll feel less inadequate ;)
Grab a cup of tea or coffee (oh what the heck, get a danish too!) and sit a spell. You might want to grab your notebook and pen because you never know when you will be inspired to write down a quote, or jot down a poem of your own. Words are like that, they take you on a journey and the next thing you know you are breathing life into your own magical world of words.
Friday, October 13, 2017
Someone like you
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This is incredible. I feel as if you've been peering into MY life and have been in contact with the voices in MY head! You have perfectly captured so much of what I experience. The stanza that really caught me was the one about stimulations. I was just trying to explain that to my husband earlier this week! (We're renting rooms in a house that is currently under massive renovations and the daily construction noise is making me NUTS!) Thank you for writing this and for sharing it with OctPoWriMo!ReplyDelete
Thank you for writing this. You have no idea how much it helped (or maybe you DO?).Delete
I am glad I managed to capture what others are feeling, I'm glad it may help some KNOW that they're not alone, someone can relate.
I sympathise with the excessive noise! I remember once, having just moved into a 3rd floor appartment on a quiet street, 6 months pregnant, looking forward to being able to rest after a difficult overseas move... and they started works on the building's facade maybe a week after we got there. It's only reading you now that I realise this was part of the problem for me at the time. so thank you!
(And thank you for helping me get over that impostor syndrom of mine... I wasn't sure this was worthy of being shared :/)
That is beautiful and brave to let us live in your skin for a minute. Thank you and keep holding on.ReplyDelete
Thank you Mark. This is mostly autobiographical, but also a mix of things I experience at the moment, or in bursts, and things I experienced before. I am not suicidal any more, life is too beautiful for me to consider it really, and I KNOW that many people would miss me, starting with my children who NEED me, because otherwise they'd be stuck with their father.Delete
The stanza about suicide had to be written though, because a friend of my teen is going through this at the moment, and it reawakened buried emotions in me.
I keep holding on, and feel lucky I now have a good support system :)
Well done and so genuine. Reminds me of how a dear friend of mine unashamedly posts about her mental illness (one year each one of her A-Z blog posts dealt with it). We who do not understand become familiar and begin to understand through your words and your brave act of putting them out here for us. Thank you so much. We care. xoAReplyDelete
Thank you very much Annis. It helps to know that even those who can't relate still appreciate reading about what we go through.Delete
I lived with someone who couldn't care less for so long... it's a relief to know it was just a bad experience and others are less selfish. :)
I decided I needed to write about this, just as I decided I needed to write about the abuse I suffered, to help myself heal, but also to regain my power. I have nothing to be ashamed of. He has. They have, the ones who abuse others. I should be free to talk, not try and protect his reputation (even though, writing anonymously means I STILL protect it), so really, there is NO shame in me telling my story. At least there shouldn't. Doesn't mean I don't have that mean voice telling me I should be ashamed ;)
Thank you for reading and for caring.