A crisis reached, taxi for one, please help me!
“You’re angry” – “No! I’m desperate!”
This can’t be happening again, but of course, it simply is.
This is what we’ll do, and I’m passed on to another
Who wants to do something else.
They arrive in pairs, fearful with notepad
All words duly recorded, but I’m not sure they heard
Here’s a little yellow pill, “it’ll calm you down”
I become even more removed from my own life
The life I’m trying so hard to cling to
Did mothers really ‘cope’ with this ‘little helper’?
I wonder if the psychiatrist would want to leave his children
With someone whacked out on Diazepam?
My children have their mental mother instead
Struggling with the noise, the noise,
The incessant NOISE! My head will explode.
I press it so hard, but it will not split.
The noise has stopped, my children have gone
where they can have fun, away from me.
The PAIN of that. The PAIN of that.
I don’t exist. I try to reach – an artery.
I can’t get there, don’t want any more pain.
The Dr will see you tomorrow. Tomorrow!
Tomorrow comes. They do not ask (care?)
about the day before. I joke – “I’ve had worse scratches
from gardening“. I’m complicit in denial.
“Carry on”, they say. “Come here”, they say.
As someone screams “GET OFF ME!” in the corridor outside.
I don’t feel safe here. “We need to finish now”.
Better not shake hands, fistful of emotional tissues,
Drive 50 minutes for 3 days of drugs, they say.
That leaves me with nothing on a Sunday!!!
Can’t they see? Don’t they know? Desperate.
To be well. To be me. To be the wife and mother
my family deserve. To rejoin my life.
I’m mindful of the birds outside.
But they do not fill the black void.
I take another cocktail, will be weeks they say.
I wonder how to get through the next hour.
Wait for another strange pair at the door.