Olympic Sunday Morning

3:59 PM Poetry 0 Comments

My brain is foggy like an Olympic Sunday morning
The clouds gently hugging the mountainside
A cool breeze tickling my skin
and raising the hair on my arms
A waterfall asserts its strength nearby
filling my ears with the faint hum of running water
When I sit down to write, my hands forget the motions
and all thought leaves my mind
How do I write about the loneliness in my spine?
Or the grief that fills me up like wet concrete
molding itself to fit around me
making every motion a challenge?
Nobody wants to hear how difficult it is just to get out of bed
Or the strength I need to find just to open the front door

My therapist gives me advice on how to be in the moment
Mindfulness - the art of being completely in the present
She teaches me skills to help combat the wolves
She tells me to distract myself
Improve the moment
She doesn't say what to do if the moment is what scares me
She doesn't say what to do if everything I do
reduces my moments to ashes
She doesn't say what to do if every distraction
is worse than the moment
She doesn't say what to do if the darkness lives in my bones
She doesn't say because there is nothing else to say

My doctor tells me to take these pills
To bathe my brain in chemicals
Just to see what happens
This one causes rashes, this one causes diarrhea
This one lowers your sex drive and this one can increase suicidal thoughts
Lithium, Depakote, Klonapin, Xanax, Celexa, Prozac, Zoloft, Abilify
Major Depressive Disorder, Bipolar II, Borderline Personality Disorder, PTSD
No one knows what to call the sadness behind my eyes
They can only target my behaviors
As I search for a way to stay alive
This isn't living
Its survival.

Everything you do in life will be meaningless
a water lilly on the face of a raging river
But what matters is that you do it
Because its all you have to do
Your choices give meaning to your life
And allow you to leap over the gaping chasm of nothingness
in which lies the meaning of life and death
A black hole that will suck you in if you let it
There is a storm coming
There will always be a storm coming
Its up to you to decide if you want to cower inside
Or say "to hell with it" and walk proudly through the rain
and when you do
I will be there with you
tears mixing with the rain
holding out my hand
begging you to walk beside me