I love all things around me especially you, you and you coz we must treasure them before they are gone

click me!

Tuesday, September 4, 2018

Explaining depression









Explaining my depression to my mother: A conversation 

Mom, my depression is a shapeshifter 
One day it's as small as a firefly in the palm of a bear 
The next it's the bear 
On those days I play dead until the bear leaves me alone 
I call the bad days "the Dark Days" 
Mom says, "try lighting candles" 
But when I see a candle, I see the flesh of a church 
The flicker of a flame 
Sparks of a memory younger than noon 
I am standing beside her open casket 
It is the moment I learn every person I ever come to know will someday die 
Besides Mom, I'm not afraid of the dark, perhaps that's part of the problem 
Mom says, "I thought the problem was that you can't get out of bed" 
I can't, anxiety holds me a hostage inside of my house, inside of my head 

Mom says, "Where did anxiety come from?" 
Anxiety is the cousin visiting from out of town that depression felt obligated to bring to the party Mom, I am the party, only I am a party I don't want to be at 
Mom says, "Why don't you try going to actual parties, see your friends" 
Sure I make plans, I make plans but I don't want to go 
I make plans because I know I should want to go; I know sometimes I would have wanted to go 
It's just not that much fun having fun when you don't want to have fun, Mom 
You see, Mom, each night Insomnia sweeps me up in his arms, dips me in the kitchen in the small glow of the stove-light 
Insomnia has this romantic way of making the moon feel like perfect company 
Mom says, "Try counting sheep" 
But my mind can only count reasons to stay awake 
So I go for walks, but my stuttering kneecaps clank like silver spoons held in strong arms with loose wrists 
They ring in my ears like clumsy church bells, reminding me I am sleepwalking on an ocean of happiness that I cannot baptize myself in 

Mom says, "Happy is a decision" 
But my happy is as hollow as a pin pricked egg 
My happy is a high fever that will break 
Mom says I am so good at making something out of nothing and then flat out asks me if I am afraid of dying 
No, I am afraid of living 
Mom, I am lonely 
I think I learned that when Dad left how to turn the anger into lonely the lonely into busy 
So when I say I've been super busy lately 
I mean I've been falling asleep watching Sports Center on the couch 
To avoid confronting the empty side of my bed 
But my depression always drags me back to my bed 
Until my bones are the forgotten fossils of a skeleton sunken city 
My mouth a boneyard of teeth broken from biting down on themselves 
The hollow auditorium of my chest swoons with echoes of a heartbeat 
But I am a careless tourist here 
I will never truly know everywhere I have been 

Mom still doesn't understand 
Mom, can't you see 
That neither can I

 - Sabrina Benaim -






 

No comments:

LinkWithin

Related Posts Plugin for WordPress, Blogger...