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What it feels like:
 
Imagine going to the beach and finding a smooth, flat, grey stone.
Imagine picking it up and using your thumb to roll it over in your palm
In order to dry it at first
But you realize you enjoy the sensation of the rock turning even after it’s clearly dry.
So you keep doing it, constantly, at all times.
Rolling it over faster some days, slower others.
But
Never
Stopping.
Over and over and over and over and over and over and over…
 
What brings you in today?
Thoughts like a smooth grey stone.
That’s called thinking.
But my thumb is cramping.
 
Is your thumb cramping?
 
 
“Transition is hard”
 
Is what my sister tells me every time and I ignore her every time.
The funny thing about humans is we don’t fix things until they are broken.
This includes our minds.
I couldn’t justify expensive therapy while unemployed.
I waited until my brain cracked down the middle and I was missing days at my dream job.
Screaming at myself for squandering an opportunity I’d lusted after for years.
Why couldn’t I motivate myself to eat.
To sleep.
To shut off.
 
The medical system is completely overloaded.
Not just in mental health, but this sector tends to be left till last since it is invisible.
They don’t allocate resources to anyone unless their mental illness is causing physical symptoms. My inability to function was not enough.
They wanted slit wrists.
And I was on the verge of giving it to them.
 
They kept me overnight for the things I said in the cold interview room. I was wrapped in a blanket and flanked by the med student, the resident, and the real physiatrist.
 
In the morning they put me on a list to see more specialists, upped my dosage of antidepressants by 10mg, and then kicked me out onto the hot sidewalk.
Make-up smeared,
stinky, unshowered vagina,
dead phone,
no way to call a friend or even a cab.
 
So I walked and while I walked I evaluated my options
 
 
It Never Stops
 
In a mind that doesn’t stop
Maybe you never heal.
Maybe you just train it to have healthy obsessions
Re-Direct the energy to more practical pursuits
A controlled explosion.
Drawing is such a different form of expression that writing.
A different brain pipe.
You shove part of it down the artistic pipe,
Part of it down the exercise pipe
Making sure the fuel pipe is being managed
–sleep and food uptake.
Maybe you never heal or feel slower.
The slowness is an illusion brought on by medication.
We’ll slow you down with meds so you have a hot minute to organize the brain and intake pipes.
But you’re still you.
 
Managing the explosion…
…there’s still an explosion.
 

The Call that Changed it All
 
I want to be the voice of my generation
But actually it’s my brother.
He called me while I was in there
I asked him why he hadn’t
 
It doesn’t matter how shitty this life is
Don’t take the dive into the black into your own hands
This is all we’ve got
All we can truly know is what’s in front of us
The abyss is exactly that
So get up and keep fighting.
 
Because one day the fog will lift
The lead will leak from your bones
Music will enter like a colorful breeze
And existing won’t be so damn hard.

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