90 days, before I came,
the mend is long and hard now I’m done here.
I don’t remember the sun hidden in this shade
days and days… blur in a straight line.
Muscles tense and the fire in me doused by the indifference of all those I left behind.
The longest three days, followed by a brokenness that couldn’t be believed.
Staring out the window waiting for god to feel relief.
45 years, flashback to tears,
that lonely dusk in a city waiting with promise.
My time machine in the shop.

The high road looked so good from here,
but its all that I feared, and when I woke it passed my line of sight.
I wondered why I had to see you in my dreams again
unforgiving in time, one that came and went
I held on, briefly paused
Realized this dream is a lost cause.

What should I do now that my trial is up?
New ventures ahead instead of dead ends.
A heartbeat when I thought I was gone.
The road that goes on and on.

I Still Don’t Care For Decaf

sigh 006

Are we back to not being friends?
The cycle that never ends,
and remember the time we
couldn’t breathe a single day without??

In & out- left of center, progressed to doubt.
The longest sigh stretched into endless nights
no doubt; there’s no end when second chances are exhausted
into the longest regression you’ve ever endured.
And still, we come back for more.

Withholding shelter, the safety of clenched hands
Singularity, now parallel lands-
worlds we couldn’t possible conceive.
Now my everyday view.

And these words are for me
All the people that pass by
A life we couldn’t possibly perceive.

I have no control over what you think of me
So don’t look back
Just keep moving
We have a ways to go

August 12, 2012

Some days I find myself craving waffles and then suddenly, there I am– lying in my room at Holy Spirit hospital, counting the large waffle shape ceiling squares that offer no comfort and no answers. There was a lot of time to count them and unfortunately I didn’t keep tabs…

…but I’m pretty sure someone’s laying there right now gazing up at them.  

I frequented inpatient upstairs on three separate occasions, one other time at Phil-Haven and I spent two ‘tour of duties’ at the outpatient program here at Holy Spirit with vastly different results. I wasn’t prepared for the first trip through the program, and I believe this is the key- you simply can’t go through the motions. My second journey was completed after one of the worst years of my life; and it was pivotal in my recovery and with the success I’m experiencing now. I needed outpatient, and it made a huge difference.

Life is constant evolution, but only if you accept this rite of passage.

Living doesn’t rely on objectivity. Life is either happening all around you or you are watching from the slits between your closed blinds– the spare daylight; an enclave reminding you that isolation is reality.

Recently, I crossed paths with an old friend, someone who I hadn’t seen in a while but I appreciated a few moments of catching up. Thankfully he never asked what I had been up to, because honestly- how could I spin it in a way that didn’t set me back: small talk and trivial flashbacks. The moment where no one knows but everyone knew that it could reflect their own tragic steps, so we just smile politely and go back to our day; without ever really looking back.

Mental illness isn’t a splinter that gives you an initial prick, slowly purging itself out of your body. It’ll hang around for a while- but it certainly doesn’t own you. Most mental illness lies dormant with medication and practical living and this is where we want it; a slumbering animal hibernating where darkness and oblivion offer escape.

Yeah, I might have an ‘episode’, get depressed or even have an anxiety attack, but I’m not living in fear anymore. So, in a sense, I’m “living” for the first time in a long time.

 Never forget you were a person before you were a diagnosis.

Dead Reckoning

Corrupt this place, the ceiling burns phosphoric and you glare into the spaces that dampen the air.
“I’ll be back another time, maybe I can view the hash marks in pastel”
We can fantasize that we’ll never return to the chaos, so inviting to pick up where we left off.

You know this changes everything.

I escape my own reality and the wind outside brushes the sun off my cheeks- the powder of my forehead no longer a torrent of reflecting skies…. and rampant mistakes.

Everyone knows me here, and that can’t be so bad, right??

We deserved so much more.

I saw them take you on the elevator to the third floor, where people communicate in mimes and fixed glances, trolling the corners and cleaving the walls. Fearful that you’ll be spit out into the world, the depth of all your misfortune taking hold of that last piece of serenity.