Letting (go)

Part 7 of a 9 part poem.

This is the seventh part of a poem I began writing while starting medication for the first time, treating depression and anxiety. The first try was not the right fit for me and drove me deeper into the dark. It's not until later on that things began looking up.

The compellation of these nine poems I've titled, Becoming (Me).

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Because I’m on my own.

Others can help me - it’s true.

But I’m the only one who can make anything of it.

I have to change my thinking.

I have to change my reactions.

I have to change my coping.

A little pill can only get me so far.

Talking to people can only get me so far.

In this dark hole of my mind.

I’m alone.

I have to pull myself out.

Maybe this is my crucible.

Maybe this is where I can finally turn things around.

Bit by bit.

Thought by thought.

Is this supposed to make my brain ache?

Will this be a constant fight?

When can I claim victory?

When can I rest?

I keep looking for reasons.

Why I’m like this.

Why I think this way.

Why I feel this way.

But maybe that doesn’t entirely matter anymore.

Maybe I just need to accept it.

It happened.

I feel this way.

So change.

I want to change.

Some days it’s easier.

Some days it’s harder - nearly impossible.

But there is always tomorrow.

Tomorrow can be better.

Maybe that’s what the little pill does.

Open a block in my mind.

Not a cure.

Just an open door.

One I need to step through.

If only I could step through.

It feels a bit too late for that.

I can’t walk through.

I have to claw my way out.

I have to blow open a hole to get out.

I have.

I did it.

I’m out.

Or is this a trick?

I have nothing left.

Everything’s drained out.

Good. Bad. Everything in between.

Gone so quickly.

Before I even realized.

What do I have left?

A gaping hole.

I don’t feel nothing.

But I don’t feel something either.

I let go of the weight.

But it’s been my anchor.

Now I’m adrift.

Not sure where to go.

What to do.

Who to be.

Not worried.

Not angry.

Not scared.

Not… anything.

So who am I now?

Now that I have nothing.

Who do I want to be?

When I don’t know who I am.

I’m free.

But lost.

Which is better?

If any.

I’m off the trail I set for myself.

One that ended in a cliff.

But now I wander aimlessly.

In an open field.

I can go anywhere.

But where?

I just want to lie down and sleep.

Sleep in this quiet place.

At peace.

Is this what it feels like?

So unlike me?

I’m a stranger to myself.

Because I’m no longer myself.

At least that’s what it seems.

Who am I?

Someone answer me!

Please…

Because I don’t know.

I don’t know where to go…