Saturday, 7 March 2015

Personal Poetry

I've frequently turned to poetry throughout my journey, as I've found it to be an effective way I could express freely and untangle the confused mess of thinking in my head. Quite often they were pretty stormy poems about the struggle I was feeling but identifying that struggle helped me to overcome it.

So more recently, I returned to writing poems but with a completely different mindset and initially I nearly felt unable to write unless I had some dramatic difficulty going on. It was like using an old tool in a new way. But I still love words and using them to create, so I got familiar with using them differently and here's one of the results - my personal journey in poem form; 



Well it’s been a journey, I’m not going to lie,
You don’t just wake up one day not wanting to die.
I shuffled to therapist rooms one through four,
Each time ending with me walking out the door,
Collecting diagnoses and Prozac to numb the depression,
Weighed down with questions from each exhausting session,
Exploring the reasons, the whys and the wherefores,
A shell of myself walking in and out of the doors.
Little steps forward, mirrored by all the steps back,
I still didn’t know how to cut myself any slack,
I could drown out my feelings with food or drink,
I could cause myself harm and try not to think,
Cos it was my thoughts that cut through me most,
Physical pain distracted but for my mind I was the host,
For its parasitic negative chatter, that never ceased to batter
Any inch of worth I had within, it screamed at me, a constant din
Of insults I wouldn’t utter to anyone, I isolated so I was the only one
Who had to put up with this worthless, waste of space
That I knew myself to be, it seemed to really be the case,
I beat myself to a point of not knowing nor caring who I am,
I didn’t venture out, life couldn’t make me give a damn,
You know what it’s like to have no sense of self?
Punishing my body to the point of damaging my health.
Nothing really mattered I just wanted to get by,
And if I couldn’t do that, I wanted to die.

Not impressed with number five, my quest kept on,
Seeking that answer to get all this sh*t to be gone,
I landed at the last door, door number six,
My final big effort hoping something would stick
Hoping I could figure out how to live this life,
Without hating myself; my doubts were rife.
What could they say that I hadn’t already heard?
Is this going to be the place with the magic word?

Sorry to spoil it, but there’s no magic here,
There’s no enchanted wand to disband all the fear,
There is hope though, and that kinda trumps it all,
It whispers initially, keeping it small,
But its volume gradually increased in my ear,
So that the negativity is just not what I hear,
And it’s not like it suddenly just became clear,
It’s been a bumpy road and I’ve shed many a tear,
But the need to hurt myself is both distant and strange,
And that’s not the only thing that started to change,
I know who I am now and that’s been the catalyst,
To realise that life is not something I want to miss,
I want to be involved, I want to be significant,
I don’t just want to be an unwilling participant.

And it's happening, I’m unravelling bit by bit,
Discarding the conditions to which I used to submit
I am creating a life that I’m excited to live,
Finding out what I actually have to give,
My life is fuelled by passion and dreams,
I know where I want to work towards being,
I have a voice I never had before, I want to use it more and more,
Silence and being invisible is a goal of the past,
But this isn’t fleeting, these learnings will last,
They’ve taken me from out of my room to out my door,
To being able to do my job, to starting to explore,
Hobbies and interests and sources of fun,
That don’t ignite anxiety cos that chapter is done.
I’ve learnt so much from my journey thus far,
And anyone can do the same, regardless who you are,
If I could flick the switch from destructing to creating,
If could stop myself from the constant berating,
From inflating the negative and relentlessly hating
Myself my mind and body, always waiting,
For the next crash, the next moment of despair,
The next confirmation that I was a waste of air,
If I could let all that go, then I promise, anyone can too,
But it’s not enough to say it, it comes from what you do.









2 comments:

  1. I absolutely love this poem and of how it details not only your journey but also how determined you were to recover

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    1. Sorry just seeing this comment now! Thanks so much, really appreciate it :)

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