.Being.Us

I write a lot about what is lost and gained in my being and my life by taking anti-psychotic, anti-depressant, and anti-anxiety medications, and this poem is no different. The biggest, life-changing things I've grasped hold of with the help of these medications are the ability to have stable, healthy relationships and the ability to survive, and I don't think I'd trade either of those things for the world (see my poem, Ten Hurricanes ). Without further ado, "Once, There Were Trees." Once, There Were Trees. *mic sounds* *deep voice in audience clears throat*  Is it really worth trading my creativity For the ability to leave the house? My passion For the ability to hold a “normal” conversation? My intellect and the way my brain makes connections that no one else can see For a lack of suicidality? What if I could fall into the nebulous violence of a forming star? What if I could see the spark that rebirths wood frogs every Spring? What if I could be myself again, eve...

TW: Psychiatric Medication I wrote this rough draft of a poem a few years ago for spoken word and never came back to edit it, but I really like it. To me, it represents finding the balance in my psychiatric medication and sort of losing myself by being over-medicated but losing my ability to maintain my relationships with people who matter to me by being under-medicated.     This is the time of day When the oceans roar The messy crash of salty waves is pain But the tearful surge is the herald of my reward   They're coming back My thoughts are riding on the clouds Where I used to live My wonderings crashing in the pattern of my name   Here comes the Storm   Boatless, I'm dead man's floating out to sea Will I go into that hurricane? Will I float until the waves lift me to the clouds, Not into the eye of the storm, but in the swirling winds?   The swirling of that storm is where I once discovered lightn...