I hate always talking about my mental illness. I feel like the more time I give it, the more it consumes me. But, on bad days, writing poetry is the only escape I have. It’s the only outlet for all the darkness inside me. When you battle demons by yourself for so long, it’s difficult when a knight in shining armor comes along to help slay those demons. You worry that if you depend on them too long or too much and then they bolt (like they always do), you’re left to fight alone again. I was never one to take help from anyone until my husband came along. It took him a while to break through all my barrriers. The greatest thing my husband has done for me isn’t to fight my demons for me. He’s given me the strength to battle the dragons myself. That has made all the difference to me.
The first time he saw me fall into the deep end,
he tried to save me from drowning.
He threw me lifeline after lifeline,
but I refused to hang on.
I thrashed about trying to keep my head above water.
Kicking my feet and flailing my arms—
Like a little child during a tantrum.
Finally I realized that all I needed to do to stop myself from drowning
was to put my feet down and stand up.