Today’s post is a kind of poem about my experience of depression. Not everyone’s experience is the same. So I’m just going to share a little of mine. I’m not a poet but I find writing the truth can be hard. It’ll be easier to do it in a more creative way.
Depression is a funny thing,
It does not make me laugh
It used to make me cry, it used to stab me in the heart
until the pain would make me angry, hungry,
sending me for food,
to make me feel the way I felt
when I was small, and safe, and good
But now it doesn’t do that. This time I’m more stressed out
In case somebody asks me to do, or say, or shout
and tell them, “everything is fine, I’ll take care of that.”
Cos it’s what I do, I sort things out.
Except for age-old fat
that I am trying trying to disrobe from
but I cannot concentrate
on every single thing that’s asked of me.
No one asked me? Oh wait
It was me who piled the stuff on?
It was me who got it wrong?
expectations, responsibilities
more words, more songs
I thought I had to do it all and carry all the weight
while trying to lose it without losing it
while not losing the faith
Does it look like I am losing
any sense of sense right now?
Well that is it, you’ve now seen how it works, it makes me feel that
now, I must explain and say I’m sorry, that I don’t know where, why, how
Stop!
See how it steals my peace?
So, I’ll stop and ask you just to wait, and let me find a way
back to thinking, breathing, eating, normally (is the word normal okay?)
You see, depression is a funny thing
It does not make me laugh
but the joke’s on me and will be while I travel on this path
to God knows where and God knows when
but that is good enough for me
cos though I live with my depression, my God, He lives in me
Just another Christian woman... 