Bare It All
Depression employs no prejudice towards the prisoners it takes. It is a many faced, malleable, sinister creature that forms distinct characteristics for its prey, unique to each individual’s mind. It is cruel, savage, and vicious, and it ensnares more people every day regardless of age, gender, or ethnicity.
And I want to fight it.
Through years of constant combat I have found that writing about my thoughts, emotions, and struggles with depression allows me to suck out the poison that builds when I otherwise bottle them up. Writing allows my mind to become a little clearer and gives my muscles the oxygen and energy they need to break off some of those chains.
I was once horrified at the thought of sharing my writing/poetry on the topic because it is so raw and unfiltered. I didn’t want anyone to see that side of me. I was worried once they glimpsed the hideous, dark, twisted monster that hides in the basement of my mind they would retreat further away to leave me even more isolated than I already felt.
Within the past few years, I have realized the more I am open about my struggles the more I find I am able to help others find their voice, allowing them to speak their experience and in consequence help them heal. It is a significant and compelling process and in the end it brings us each clarity, comfort, and connection.
And when you’re wrestling with depression, you need connection.
Unfortunately, mental health is still not given as much pause as it should. In general society reacts with distain to the topic until it is whispered, hushed, or thrown into a closet left to rot and become a skeleton no one will ever feel comfortable letting out.
I want to change that.
I want to open the door to that closet, examine the skeleton, publish the findings, and finally lay that whittled down frame to rest.
With this post, I am opening my closet door and displaying my skeleton for all to see. You may make your own examination. In fact, please take notes. I want you stirred to movement. Share this post and your thoughts on depression and mental health. Let’s make more conversation and connection; let’s force the taboo to end. If you fight your own beast or have hidden away your own skeleton, air out your closet, display your skeleton and shed some light on your monster that lurks in the basement of your mind. Maybe he won’t be as hideous or gigantic as you think he is.
Black Hole
There’s a hole in my chest
present
ever since I can remember.
It started out small,
an insect bite turned
red and inflamed.
I’d itch and I’d scratch until
I ripped and it tared;
the insect tucked in to the meal I
prepared.
It ate and it purged and
it ate and it purged
as it dug ever deeper -
I was a good host.
One day I scooped out
this little friend I had made,
patted his head and
sent him away.
I smiled and laughed and
slapped on a bandaid,
but the hole never healed;
it ached and it begged.
I tried hard to fill it -
it took what I gave
but gave nothing back -
I looked closer and saw
the hole had turned black.
Insatiable,
it began consuming my insides.
My stomach, the first to go,
that left me quite queasy.
Next one kidney and then the other,
turning my pale skin yellow.
Since that day keeping this
secret
has never been easy.
After my liver was devoured,
the painkillers built up and
the chemicals stirred;
my blood became soupy and
my speech sometimes slurred.
My intestines were slurped
one foot at a time
until I could no longer
digest my emotions
or fight the sickness
I tried so hard to hide.
I’ve ripped and tugged at
the edges, shoving and stuffing in
everything I could find to feed
the blackness,
but the glutton is greedy
and ever larger in size and
I’m running
out of ideas
along with my insides.
Now all that is left is the
air in my lungs and
my beating, bleeding heart which is
keeping the time, counting down
to the end of my raging,
unhinged mind.
It’s so lonely
and cold,
letting go of control.
It’s getting harder to breathe,
I think my lungs are next to go.
Will my heart continue to beat,
echoing into the night?
Will I be forever stuck,
never leaving this hell
within my mind?
I’ve lost all feeling
in my limbs and the meaning of
what’s left of my life.
Maybe if I reach deep enough,
I can go back in time and
squash that damn bug
before he started this fight.
The Senses
Can you see me?
I’m here
but it’s crowded
so thick, I’m standing small
and I can’t move; too many to push aside.
Can you hear me?
I’m screaming
but it hangs in the air
no echo, voices clamor and hide
and it’s so loud.
Can you feel me?
I’m sobbing
but it’s sand in my eyes
no water, yet I’m drowning beside so
many people
can’t swim — sand paper rips through to my insides.
Can you taste it?
I’m ravenously eating
but I’m empty
can’t fill the void, the villainous black hole
and it’s stealing all the flavor of life.
Can you smell it?
I’m breathing, drinking deep
but can’t differentiate, no memory tied
it’s all burning, smoke consuming
and we should be running away from the fire.
Can you imagine?
knowing you’re going to die, no escape
you awaken to realize -
we are already dead
we took our own lives.
RUNNING
It’s cold,
every breath of chilled air
ice picks to my lungs.
My throat rubbed raw
leaves a metallic taste on my tongue.
Oxygen deprived, every muscle
screams for the rest
I cannot give.
My feet keep moving
desperate to find a path,
no sound but the slaps they make on pavement
echoing only once
’til in the darkness
they die.
How can it be?
I see the walls reach high
to the ceiling above
closing me in, yet
I feel a deep abyss
encompassing me;
a sky of blackness above.
Rat in a maze,
I find only turns.
No moving forward.
No end.
I cannot stop running.
I cannot run.
I’m curled into a ball, unmoving;
no longer feel the sun.
The ice picks melt and leave
large holes;
I’m leaking from inside.
All hopes and dreams,
they drip and I heave,
stitches in my side.
I gasp again and lift my feet,
It’s odd, this race
is killing me, yet
death
I strive
to out
run.
Stuck
Blank,
no thoughts.
My quiet,
empty mind
an echoing cathedral of silence.
How is it so loud?
Air moves in waves and
dust dances
clinking together,
composing
their own silent song.
Breathe in.
Breathe out.
Repeat.
Each breath
sets the beat
of my heart -
too erratic to join the symphony.
Solitary Confinement
A fate to the criminal:
separate,
confine.
No conversation, no touch,
no chance of eyes to meet;
no hope for relation,
no other beings to greet.
Carefully monitored, kept all alone
Secluded, deluded,
no mercy shown.
Is this my sentence?
What is my crime?
I’ve ended up here and I’m not sure how or why.
I roam outside walls, only to carry them with me;
an invisible force field
keeping connection just out of
reach.
Mechanically traveling through the motions of life,
I laugh and I smile and show no untoward amount of strife, but
how long is this censure?
How long will I suffer?
How do I appeal against a trial never given?
Rubber Band
Push and pull,
heave and growl.
Grinding teeth,
chip and shatter.
Biting tongue ‘til
blood, taste iron.
Sweat drips down
furrowed brow,
wets dried lips ‘til
crack, a smile.
Trembling, made it,
two steps forward.
Proudly rest,
bask in glory.
Glazed eyes
stare blankly,
quick addict,
sorely longing;
More warmth,
more light,
less cold, dark night.
Forced muscles
stretch and strangle.
Too hard.
Too soon.
Mind snap.
Ten steps back.
