On a path two
human animal and
Is one food
for the other?
Who will move
first, and where?
Whose fear is
that in the air?
Reason has instnct
by the throat, or
Is it the other way around?
Tethered by memories
of other meetings on
other paths, the two
step cautiously by.
The original heading for this post was going to be “Plateau,” but then I saw that first line of my last “poem” and think it’s better. This entry will touch upon several topics, so either bear with me or go away.
PROFILE : My current (former?) profile says I’m not through growing yet. I’ve re-thought that.
When after an uncomfortable (well, some of it) thousand-mile trip you finally arrive at the end of the line only to realize your ticket was for the wrong destination, what then? Is it your imagination that someone whispers “Gotcha!”?
Despite what the scientists predict, my first organ to go was my heart. It turned to stone. My last surgeon said, showing my daughter my extracted mitral valve, it was hard as a pebble from a brook. On to another, more current metaphor for me, while awaiting compost:
I am lying on a vast bed of empty ice maker cubes (remember, from the old refrigerators?) Trying to be helpful, I’m sure, someone puts such a tremendous pressure on me (steamroller?) that my body is now comprised of hundreds of cubes, almost like building blocks. Now I’m really ready to compost.
BUT WAIT JUST A F***ing MINUTE! Building blocks! Like in days of yore, before my post-partum deression at 81! Whee!
Posted in Dark humor
BLOG ABOUT DISSOCIATIVE IDENTITY DISORDER
….So the choice is, accept help that is not going to work, or try it yourself.
Neither of this is really working. I have not a myself that is able to live on its own. It’s confusing life, based on mental health problems.
It is not, never your fault. Not your diagnoses’ fault. Having mental health problems is as if you are trapped in a deep well. Somewhere deep down you ask, you cry for help. You hope, someone up there would hear it. Down there you try to survive on your own. You try to see in the dark. You think about escaping the the deep well. You can even count the way up. You can calculate the time necessary to get out. But you do not have the rope, the ladder to get out. You would be able to climb all the way up, if they just let the ladder down….
So the key word is hope. Hope, that your life will ever change.
Because, every one with a mental health problem wants to get out. Nobody with mental health problems ever asked for this. But so often you are treated as if you decided one boring day to start a mental health problem….