progress report

i put my fingers on the keyboard so the skin on my lips can catch a break,

picking and picking and thinking about which part of me was doing better or doing bad anymore

how to say something true

what i want so badly

what i’m the worst at

i could grab a sifter

and plunge it through the mess

if i only could

shake it out to completion

so i could hold close the words that come from a place uninfected

otherwise, i could write any old thought and dress it up

in that way, for me, poetry is easy

that’s how to get through a school poetry unit unscathed

an easy a, minus

my therapist won’t get off my ass

about all the untrue things i try not to keep entertaining

cognitive distortions

i have a c in therapy

minus

sifters don’t work on me

every time i have something to hold onto

a wave rolls on back and crashes over me

and waves always reemerge

i learned to leave myself notes

for the underwater feelings

because i know i’ll be going down again

i’m covered head to toe with post-its

you’re safe

this will pass

it’s in your head

i love you

in case of forgetting, losing myself in the current like a pair of keys my grandma is perpetually looking for

i want more than anything to get through to me

but i fade in and out

cursing the bad signal, falling on deaf ears, crackling

i am not doing better

contrary to popular belief

no matter how the progress report raves

“No major concerns at this time.”

like i’m out of the woods

all i see is trees towering over me for miles, a shade that i chase the end of

despite my best efforts

my worst fears find a new home in sleep

never strong enough is the amethyst and rhodonite i slip under my pillow

every night, for nightmares, protection, for heart healing

despite my best efforts

i tried the mediterranean diet

omega-3 fatty acids, good for the brain

i exercise, flail my arms around

i went cold turkey on horror movies, and sad music

ariana grande, rain sounds. the same few safe songs over and over.

it’s been me and water-damaged airpods and sza

“this time next year i’ll be living so good won’t remember no pain

i swear

living so good, living so good, living so good”

my national anthem, all of 9th grade

i keep lights on even in the afternoon so it always feels brightest and warmest

i got stronger, smarter,

i trained my fingers to forge lifelines quick, even if they unravel into air not long after, to be woven once again, and again

and,

i 

am 

the biggest optimist i know

sitting in a puddle of my own saline waste for hours at a time

i still haven’t gone sour

despite my best efforts,

a room full of panic i’ve pushed and pulled

exasperated, to empty all the way to completion

i can still feel the walls closing in on me

and yet, 

“Why do you choose to feel this way?”

“Best not to dwell.”

“Everybody

gets

knocked

down;

it’s about how you get up.”

Psychology Today: “depression is a victim mindset.

individual creates a self-fulfilling prophecy.” 

am i doing this to myself?

headlines are where my grief turns clinical

“A New Way of Viewing Depression May Lead to Better Treatment: The Answer Will Shock You”

“You’re Doing it All Wrong”

am i giving my best efforts?

what they don’t know:

that i’ve heard it all before

and that

i

am

resilient

that i built myself a shelter

brick by brick

so that sometimes i do feel at home in myself

the shelter does not always withstand in the storms

but i built it myself

brick by brick

since i was the only one that could

Association for Psychological Science: “Depressed People Believe that Life Gets Better”

hopeful or irrational?

am i waiting to be saved? 

what to do, if my only thread of hope is “disordered thinking”?

today i watched Stranger Things

the Duffer brothers are exploring a new direction

the thematic elements are really there this season, albeit on the nose

Max Mayfield is facing a grave, feet rising up off the ground

in the Upside Down, the floor is lava 

a clock ticks towards her doom

the reddened sky crackles and one Lord Vecna, a slithering horror, looks to make max his next prey

a girl overwhelmed with grief, his grisly tendrils wrap around her limbs and throat

he tightens his grip, tells her she belongs here

that there is no escaping

she struggles not to believe it

i cry for her

his claws hover over her face, ready to end her like all the others he has slaughtered

suddenly, the sky tears

she hears kate bush, the sound of her favorite song, and voices calling for her to run

tears spilling out, heaving strangled breaths, something switches in her eyes

like a shot, she sinks her nails into the monster’s throat and wrenches out a vein

“be running up that road,

be running up that hill,

be running up that building,

if i only could”

and she runs like hell

and watching this i am a bawling wreck

because now i see

i have decided

i will always keep running

this

at least

is true