Control Struggle (August 4, 2018)

So easy

Meds before me

For long goodbye.

Fighting to keep

Daily suicidal ideation

Static filled reception.

A 24/7/365 fight

Without relaxation.

No matter

How exhausted

Pain filled

I am

Refusing

Trial and error

Guinea pig

For right medication.

Ultimate act

Of vainglory/hubris

Better living

Through chemistry.

Eight years experimentation

Various drugs

And cocktail mixture.

Tears flow

Cursing side effects

Life interrupted.

Prisoner-in own body

Better off depressed.

Rejecting ninth med

Older generations

More health concerns.

Therisa © 2018

Author's note: On Friday, I read about the death of Zombie Boy (Rick Genest), which Montreal police had ruled suicide. Despite unanswered questions surrounding the death that the local coroner is investigating. Realizing, how easy it is for me, to lose control for 1 minute and pay a fatal price.

The following article link has phone numbers to contact, in Canada, if you need someone to talk.

http://www.cbc.ca/news/canada/montreal/zombie-boy-dead-1.4772315

Life Of A Depressive Cycle (July 20, 2018)

Over the horizon

Darkening clouds gather

Thin black line forms

Ominous signs of trouble.

Past storms heralded

Sudden dramatic plummeting

Emotional barometer

Dangerously low levels

Threatening life.

First stormridge hits

Like an unmarked riptide

Abruptly overpowering.

Written poems fall

Covering soulscape

In emotionally laden words

Like sleet of ice.

Finished

Months may past

Before another poem.

Intermixed

Second stormridge arrives

Black rain clouds

Unburdened themselves

With tear stain streaks.

Unnatural

Eerie silence descends

Locked on emotional

And physical drained soul.

Hidden war

Viciously fought

Outright control of soul

Any misstep-Death.

Not all fronts

Visibly seen campaigns

War of attrition.

Internalized anger grows

Self-punishing

Appetite-ebbs and flows

With the waistline.

Interlocking walls built

Brick upon brick

Kiln fired by isolation

Mentally and physically

Fatigued soul.

Craving all levels-sleep

Unfulfilled need

Debt grows.

Bedside clock/radio

Signals time

Not days passage

In hypnotic light/dark dance.

Concept of time

Nothing more

Last meal/bathroom break

In physical world.

Praying

Ideation stays passive

Not active.

Upon active stage

Suicidal plans decoded

Static-free reception

Properly aligning

Mental receiving dish.

Everything

Becomes a weapon

Wanting pain gone.

Code Delta

Pain over.

Otherwise

Long slow recovery

Rebuilding mental bridges

Collateral from the war.

Despite this

Never reaching

True mental equilibrium

Falling just short

In recovery.

Therisa © 2018

Author’s note: How some of bouts of depressions are like, for me.

The Black Death (June 25, 2016)

Silence.

Do you understand

What this word means

To me?

Beyond

The standard

Dictionary definition.

You'll find

In a book

Or on-line.

In having

The creative part

Of your soul

Amputated.

 

Without warning.

Leaving behind

Those dark

And destructive voices

Of the past.

Rattling around

In your mind.

Undermining

Whatever self-confidence

And self-esteem

You started life

As a child.

Giving greater volume

And clarity

To suicidal ideation.

Normally

Out of tune

And static filled.

As everything

Becomes

A deadly weapon

In your eyes.

Therisa © 2016

Author's note: How my black depressions are like, in experiencing them.

Widening The Crack (June 12, 2016)

This Friday

I did something

That's totally

Out of character.

In opening up

And sharing

My self-harming secret

And the reasons

I harm myself.

Sure

In the past

I have written

And posted poems

About this.

(As I don't

Have to see

The reader's reaction

To my dark truths.)

(Thus

Don't feel like

I'm being judged

By them.)

But

Never shared

With someone

Who wasn't part

Of my healing team.

While

Dropping my shields

Even further.

By sharing

My passive anger

Towards myself.

Which

At times

Broils over.

Wishing

I had died

In November 1974

From the electrical burns

I had suffered

As a child.

Therisa © 2016

 

Author's note: Since January 2, 2014, I have been attending, on an on/off basis, an art program, for people, who have mental illness, and are trying to break through the barriers (stigmas) associated with it. Attending session, on Monday and Friday afternoons, whenever possible, for me. The above poem and breakthrough happened after the June 10th session, with another member, from the program, as we waited together, for the 506 streetcar, to take us, on our way home.

Not A Victimless Crime (May 18, 2016)

Bullying

A word

That's forever etched

In my mind.

For

I don't need anyone

To tell me

What it means

To be bullied.

As I struggle

With my recovery

After decades

Of bullying.

From chronic depression

Various anxiety disorders

Suicidal thoughts

Agoraphobia

And PTSD.

Which

Is worsen

By being trans.

In doubling

My odds

Over the general population.

For suffering

Depression anxiety

Compulsive behaviour

(like self-harming)

And PTSD.

Would give anything

To never have experience

Night terrors

Or PTSD flashbacks

In my sleep.

As I'm plagued

By chronic insomnia

To the point.

A good night is

Having five hours

Of  uninterrupted

Sleep.

Welcome

To my world.

Therisa © 2016

Author's note: Whether, or not, people realize this, but bullying (A form of abuse) is, a crime of power, which won't go away, as long as, there two or more people, in a given locale . The best, we can hope, is to limit the damage that's done, to the victims, by the aggressor.

Death: The Goddess Of Life And Balance (April 27, 2016)

The subject matter discuss, here, may be uncomfortable, for some people, as it deals with death and the right to end one's life.

For many

She is

Evil incarnate.

Who's name

Is never spoken

Out loud.

In fear of

It'll invoke

Her appearance.

And yet

For people

Like myself

Who suffer chronically.

Whether

Mentally

Physically

Or both.

She

Is

Relief.

Despite this

We're taught

In the West

Taking our own lives

Is a mortal sin.

Damning us

To Eternal Hell.

Worsening

The societal stigma

For those

Who suffer

From mental illness.

Never mind

If you're hearing

Suicidal thoughts

Telling you:

"Just do it".

Something

I know

All too well.

Given

My daily fight

To tune them

Out.

And yes

I do have

Several plans

Should the need

Arise.

But

The mere fact

I have them

Doesn't mean

I am suicidal.

Or that

You'll trigger me

To commit

This very act.

Rather

Am seeking someone

Who'll listen

To my needs.

Knowing

Silence isn't golden

But deadly

For someone

Like myself.

Therisa © 2016

Author's note: The following links, are part of the opening discussion that Canada is starting to have right now, concerning assisted death and mental health, as the federal parliament begins debate the proposed changes to the legislation that Supreme Court of Canada ruled, was unconstitutional, last year. Sadly, the governing Liberals have removed all references for the mentally ill, to have control over their lives, by allowing us, this option, should we choice to do so.

http://thewalrus.ca/suicide-is-not-painless/

http://www.cbc.ca/radio/thecurrent/the-current-for-april-25-2016-1.3551316/an-open-uncomfortable-conversation-on-mental-health-suicide-and-doctor-assisted-death-1.3551346

My Route Of Escape (April 14, 2016)

Ottawa

The national capital

And my reprieve

However temporary

It may be

From him.

Short of Windsor

Or a northern Ontario

Community location

Being the furtherest university

From here.

Sadly

Putting distance

Between a trauma site

And you

Doesn't mean peace.

A fact

I discovered

In the fall of 1990

As I battled

Severe depression.

During the rainiest

October and November

I have lived

Through.

More than once

I thought

Of jumping

Into a drained lock

Of Rideau Canal.

That forms

One of Carleton University's

Boundaries.

Only

To be dismissed

As homesickness

On my part.

By the university's

Counselling staff

In my first year

There.

Once more

Do I fall

Through

The system's cracks.

Therisa © 2016

When Darkness Breeds (April 12, 2016)

Here

I stand

As a witness

To the systemic discrimination

That plagues

Canada's Aboriginal people.

Even though

I want to turn away

As my own dark memories

Come to the forth.

In having

Your very soul

Stripped away

And told:

"You're worthless".

Over and over

Again.

To the point

You start believing it

As the light is

Snuffed out.

And hope is

Another 4 letter word

To curse you.

Therisa © 2016

Author's note: I wrote this, this morning, on my way, upon the streetcar, to visit the lab, to have my quarterly blood work to check my A1C.

Thus Speaks, Depression, (February 6, 2016)

www.asknormen.co.uk

My story is

But

One voice

In the wilderness

Seeking acknowledgement.

Of the struggle

To find

Self-acceptance

And self-worth.

Knowing

My own journey

Hasn't been

The hardest

Or the easiest.

To reach

This point of my life.

As a dark cloud

Looms large

Over my horizon.

Feeling myself

Shrinking

Into nothingness.

Except

A bubbling cauldron

Of negative emotions

And empty space

That once housed

My physical body.

In wondering

What difference

In my presence

Making.

Other than

A space filler

Most people don't see.

Even if

I'm standing

Before them

On the sidewalk.

Unless

They stumble

Over my feet.

Maybe

If I'm lucky

Tonight

I won't wake up

On the morrow.

Rather

Will find

That sacred gift 

Of true peace.

For my body

and soul.


Therisa © 2016



Author's note: If you asked me, at the moment, what my level of suicidal ideation is, would have to tell you, it's about 5-5.25, an increase, from Friday's levels of 4.5-5. As I find myself, in the balance, between being passively and actively suicidal. For most of my life that I can remember, these thoughts have always been a part of my life. Existing, most of the time, as a background static, like a radio, just out of tune, for that particular station, you're trying to tune in.


Right now, I am, in no danger of committing suicide, beyond the radio, is getting tuned in.