There’s something crawling on my skin
I can’t see it, but I know they are there
My doctor said I should give them names
Personalize the pain I feel
Find the source, discover reason
But I am sure that this is where it starts
There is something Whispering in my head
It begs for some attention
My doctor says I should give it
Listen with an open mind, invision
The lingering meaning at its core
I am sure if I do that
I won’t have a doctor anymore
I occasionally plan out rants in my head
Minor thoughts of things I wished I said
But there are times when they take control
When they grow past my original plan
Morphing into something that leaves me with dread
Today’s nightmare happened fairly early
I wanted to debate with friends and family
Regarding abortion.
To make it known, I stand for freedom of choice
Because every voice, is worth listening to
But it’s my voice that I wished was silenced
Because it brought with it memories long passed
I thought I got over it, guess I didn’t
Now it’s dark outside and I am covered with fear
He isn’t here, but I can hear him breathing
The hitched sound of a grown man
As he gazes upon an unexpected child
It has been awhile, since I dreamt this dream
But I can feel him breathing, as though he was in me
I just wanted a clean debate
Wanted to talk about something important you see
But here I am laying dark
Trying to convince my beating heart
That the remembered man is not next to me
How could you leave when they are standing
By the door expecting
You to return, but there is nothing
That can save them now
Why would you leave them
For a bottle of forget me pills
Now they are graduating
First grade with a finger painted certificate
Hanging on grandma fridge
You told them they would always be with you
Pinky promise in the living room
With a lady in the corner
Taking notes as ordered
You smiled at them
And held them in your arms
But it wasn’t long until you were gone
They are in 6th grade now
And can’t remember how you feel
Because you decided to take a break
With forget me not pills at the kitchen sink
But they know your face
Stiffened with grace
Though grandma does all she can
She is suffering in your place
Because it’s her baby girls body
That flashes in your place
How could you leave them?
When things just started to change
I hope it was worth it
Because they may never understand
Inspired by NF
I started some new medications recently—something to rid me of these anxious thoughts and my inability to sleep. I would love to state that I am doing better, but I am not. Those who are privy to medication know that it takes some time for the true effects to be known. But this made me think of something that I may have spoken about before.
Hospitals
Rather, hospitals with a psych ward that keep patients between 3 to 5 days on average. All depending on what their insurance is willing to cover, of course.
I have been to many of them in my years and can remember how each visit ended in a lie.
Yes! I am fine.
The funny thing is that this lie was encouraged. They were cultivated by doctors and nurses who wanted to send you on your merry way. I am sure it wasn’t their true intention to make liars of us all, but they did. I remember one hospital stay. I had an episode because they would not let me see my child during visitations. Said that I had not yet earned to privilege of such a treasure. Of course, I was livid and reacted in a way one with a mental disorder would. I cried. I screamed; I tore up pieces of paper as a way to prevent myself from assaulting a nurse. I did all of the things because I was in pain and needed an outlet.
Rightly so, this did not give me what I wanted. But I remember my doctor coming up to me later that evening. He warned me that due to my outburst, they were thinking of keeping me an extra day. He acted as though me staying till I was better was this terrible thing. I felt so confused when he said this because I did not see it as such. Yet his cautious words stuck with me as he went on to say, “Pretend that everything is fine, don’t let them see you react. Tell them that you are fine.”
So I did. I perfected the art of smiling while crying as a child and as an adult; I learned to hide my fears with sarcasm and anger. So I combined these skills in such a way that I came off as Ok. I was Ok, to the nurses at least. And instead of being made to stay an extra day, I was released a day earlier with none the wiser that I was dying inside. And that medication? It magically started working after only three days of taking it. A mental ward miracle, as we all learned to describe it.
And that doctor…
I hate him.
Not because of the advice he had given me but from the sheer fact that he proved that this whole system is flawed when I needed so much for it to work. I was done with lying, but he reminded me that a liar’s talents are always in use.
And the medication? It ended up not working for me. But of course, I did not know this till a month later. Luckily by that one, I had a psychiatrist who helped me figure out meds that did work. On top of that, I also saw a therapist regularly. I eventually stopped it, and for a few years, I did fine. But now I am back on them because I am no longer Fine.
So I sit here remembering that doctor and wondering to myself if he is doing ok.
NIGHTMARE FANTASY 