Damaged (revisited)

I sit with myself

In uncomfortable silence

My suppressed screams

Ringing in my ears

Tears running down my face

Again

 

All my demons

All my insecurities

Have come out to play today

Mocking me with their laughter

Taunting voices

Sing-song in my head

 

Shit mother

Shit wife

Shit niece

Shit cousin

Shit friend

Shit human being

 

Over and over

An endless loop

Of recrimination

 

On days like this

I can’t even remember who

I am anymore

I don’t know

What is mine to claim

I am no one

I am pain

 

I read an essay right before Christmas

Calling for compassion

For those “poor unfortunate souls”

Who are depressed over the holidays

Who engage in self-harm

Who contemplate suicide

The author referred to them as “damaged”

My hackles went up

“Only I get to call me damaged, lady,”

I wanted to angrily respond

 

Only I get to define the frantic dance

My neural synapses have been engaged in

For the last year

No one else gets to name

My crazy for me

No one gets to pity me

Not even me

Especially not me

 

If there are awards given out

For running on sheer will

And stubbornness this past year

I should at least

Be on the nomination list

Look  for my name under

Depression

Cyclothymia

PTSD

And

I’m still breathing

 

3 thoughts on “Damaged (revisited)

  1. ‘No one else gets to name
    My crazy for me
    No one gets to pity me
    Not even me’

    I feel a real sense of defiance here, but despite this, the piece provokes empathy, and a loneliness in the face of existential adversity that we can all relate to in some form. You have a real talent for discussing such topics in an honest sense, and I do admire that.

    Like

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