Depression III

I regret feeling abnormal for most of these past 30 years

Yet statistics prove that I and fellow sufferers are the vast majority

I feel like a judgment has been passed which ousts me from society

A rejection because of my weakness, my inability to cope

Control over my life seems almost irrelevant: “I was born unlucky”

Why keep fighting for the impossible?

Sometimes I want everyone to know what and why I’m suffering

I crave understanding but fear direct rejection

My whole world is viewed through grey-tinted spectacles

Patterned by phases of complete desolation and despair

Meanwhile my body reacts to bouts of anxious nausea

Mingled with flashes of intense sweat and disturbing dreams

My saddest regret is feeling unable to cope with children

Friends seem easily transformed into naturally gifted mothers

Who swear no regrets, but I hover on the brink of this decision

Enthused and motivated by my love of other’s children

Held back through fear of worsening the depression

And the terror of passing this disease on

Depression II

Nowhere is the pain of living more clearly expressed than in loneliness

Life – what’s it all about anyway?

If you dare ask that question, then you’d better accept the answer

Whatever it may be.

Existentialist thinking must have been the precursor of depression

A belief that existence is nothing, means nothing

Reach down into your core and understand

Do we still dare hope?

Depression

Rage bubbling up inside me;

A frothing liquid, ebbing and flowing like the tide,

Overriding my conscious thoughts

To play insane tricks on my daydreams.

A force with the power to upturn my perceptions of reality,

Leaving my real ‘self’ whirling in a downward spiral;

Gasping and clutching at what remains of my sanity

To be this close to the edge of reality;

Pulling back under a sense of control

Then rocking forward to look into the precipice.

Sometimes, I dangle my feet over the rim;

Toying with thoughts of leaping into the dark void

In my constant quest for peace within

Living in a haze of dysfunctional thoughts

I stop trusting myself and begin avoidance techniques

Confrontation is my fear, as if others would see into my soul,

Grab my rage and expose it for all the world to see

Too many decades of believing shows of emotion

Are a weakness.  Can I change this?

Sister Addict

Witch!  Snitch!  Whining child!

Can’t you see your life’s too wild?

Where is all the love absorbed?

The years of care, free meals and board?

Don’t you think it’s time to give

Back, now you’re free to live

In a world of your own making?

Smack!  Crack!  Give it up!

What’s the point in shooting up?

How can you bear to be controlled

By something so lethal and dearly sold?

Where’s the freedom you were taught

Was yours?  But now you’re caught

In the addiction trap you set yourself.

(Mum, Dad, please don’t feel bad.

Accept my thanks for the life she had.)