Somedays I wake up and I don’t feel like I’m me.
I’m in my skin, my body moves –
but my brain is an alien creature I’ve never met before.
It is a brain that steals me away,
and locks me inside,
and says I do not – in any way –
get to play
today.
It also makes bad rhymes,
apparently.
It is like I’m a child.
Small and kicking and screaming.
Refusing to wake up,
refusing to move,
refusing to get things done.
It winds up my bones,
staples down my muscles,
twists up my tendons
and says: “Ha! I dare you
to defy me!”
It sits in my head and I never know
when/if it’s gong to leave.
Maybe tomorrow, if I’m good enough.
Maybe today, if I can trick it
into behaving.
The hardest thing
is not knowing why
it does this to me.
Why it locks up my wrists,
and kicks in my ribs,
and tells me I don’t get to be
who I think/who I want
to be.
I don’t think this is depression
I can’t call it a mood disorder…
I’m not disordered,
I’m not depressed.
I just get pushed out of my brain
at least three times a month,
not quite homeless,
waiting until I can go back –
and be who I am again.
I’m just waiting to be me again.
naomiruthwrites 