Damaged (revisited)

I sit with myself

in uncomfortable silence

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 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 engage in

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 annually

for running on sheer will

stubbornness

I should at least make

the nomination list

look  for my name under

Depression

Bipolar Disorder

PTSD

and

I’m still breathing

 

© 2017 Christine Elizabeth Ray – All Rights Reserved

 

14 comments

  1. Dearest Christine, I love every word of this, every line is a gem! I imagine most people can relate to your poem on some level, yet my favorite line is, “no one else gets to name / my crazy for me”. Exceptional piece, thank you, really perfect for a Sunday afternoon. Please enjoy the rest of your weekend, and have a terrific week ahead. ~ Mia

    Like

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