As Mental Health Awareness week comes to an end, I found this poem on my computer and thought I’d share. Hope it shows the shame and internal conflict that come in the depression meal deal… (well, in mine at least) Tuck in!
The most silent of nights,
is when my mind’s voices decide
the time is right,
to converse.
‘When on earth are you going to stop this?’
‘Stop what?’
‘Taking antidepressants’
‘Ermmm..’
‘It’s pathetic. Come on! You can’t be on them forever’
‘I don’t plan to but…’
‘But what?’
‘It’s just I still don’t feel too great’
‘Come on! You are fine’
‘I don’t feel fine’
I sit up,
and reach for my water glass,
take a sip
hoping it will drown them,
but it only seems to clear their throats.
‘I just think unless you want to be medicated for the rest of your life…’
‘Stop. It’s not the rest of my life, it’s just now’
‘But now? Now you have so many reasons to be happy, if you can’t do it now…’
‘I just can’t seem to do it on my own’
‘And that’s pathetic. Everyone else seems to do it just fine’
I open my eyes as shapes in the dark start to form objects.
Familiarity in the inky light,
The sturdy frame of our cupboard and the chair-less desk
that longs to be written on,
I reach for the switch on my lamp,
to bring them into vision,
to make them my allies,
I pick up my book, hoping to flood my mind with words,
so they’ll be quiet,
but they win.
‘Are you really going to try and read?’
‘Well I am not sure we’re ever going to agree’
‘That’s because you are completely unable to face anything. Ever’
‘That’s not true’
‘It is. You’re a coward. Why don’t you just deal with it?’
‘Please stop’
‘Like what are you going to tell your kids? Mum needs something to cope with the world?’
‘SHUT UP!’
