Taking my Meds
We have grown comfortable enough
in the past few years
that I can stop and take my medications
when it is time.
In the past you had to go without
and get twitchy in a pinch.
Shutdown and not say anything.
Caring what others might think.
Now,
I just take the damn
things.
We have a travel vial
so we’re not carrying giant med cards
around.
Even the airport people
don’t give us much trouble
these days.
There is still a stigma
sure as bush fires,
but we are no longer
a part of it.
“Stressors”
It is not good to be both mentally ill
and poor,
but the two often seem to go
together.
As though there are certain personal
and societal “stressors,”
boy do they love that word,
almost as much as the historians climb
into bed with “aforementioned”
and the many science club girls
play hopscotch
with “fact.”
Everything is a stressor, what can I say?
Me, you, gravel drives, flashbacks,
water pressure, large crowds,
the price of gas…
And when you can’t get sleep
everything is magnified.
The anxiety and depression and bad thoughts
and behaviours all feeding on one another.
Like a hungry wolf pack tearing you apart
from the inside.
I cannot describe it any better
than that.
Those that have been they, are there,
live in the dragon’s mouth each moment of the day,
I pray for you.
And I am not a religious man in the least.
This is about you and not some god.
I share your horror
and in that way we are
brothers and
sisters.
Exposure Therapy
If exposure therapy really worked across the board
we would expose everyone to the bubonic
plague for their own good.
Somehow, I don’t think that would fly.
But they do it with the mentally ill.
As if such a practice is not torture.
Scared of dogs?
Here’s a snarling Rottweiler
three inches from your face
who’d like to get
closer.
Public speaking is your thing,
lets do that every day until
you have a heart attack…
When I was an outpatient
in town
the first counsellor I had used to
cough in my face each week
as though it was a mistake
and be disappointed when I gave
a reaction.
My second counsellor was smarter.
We didn’t even shake hands.
I remember wanting to tell her once
that if we bombed all the cities into partial oblivion
that wouldn’t mean people were
now used to bombs, and that
that was good thing.
But I kept my sane mouth shut
and smiled.
Like the shining success story
I was.
I like poetry but i do not like romantic type. I usually like inspirational poetries which can change the thinkings of a nation.
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