it was a different year and i woke up in the same woods i was in before
it was the quietest calm
like i had cried for hours
there is a weight that comes with being rooted in reality
and although everything looks so familiar i am so far from who i was
looking at the life i live with the same lens but no longer a fragmented frame rate
i never considered when i lived in the clouds
that even if i shut off my conscious and i flew far away without a tether
is my body was still somewhere cut and bleeding
and even when i wasnt with it it was still wounded
and i am so grateful for the ones who changed my bandages
and who kept me breathing
when i couldn’t find my way back and never thought i would
they brought me back and told me that i could
and i never sought to be here because i couldnt remember what it was like to see
and i thought if I was the same insect as before I would be trapped,
but I am finally free
This poem was written after I finally made the choice to reconnect to a more shared reality. I had been in a very individual reality for many months, and I made the choice to take my abilify again and wrote this poem in the woods I had walked in a different headspace so many times before.
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Mad in America hosts blogs by a diverse group of writers. These posts are designed to serve as a public forum for a discussion—broadly speaking—of psychiatry and its treatments. The opinions expressed are the writers’ own.
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