The Cruelest Month

Man with umbrella under a regional rain, photograph by Joseph Hancock (all credits to the artist), from Pinterest

The cruelest month
is the month of darkness
no matter what its’ name.

No light will pierce
those heavy clouds
when your soul just writhes in pain.

The cruelest month
you carry with you
inside your mind and heart.

Whether summer, autumn
spring or winter
it’s when your world falls apart.

There is no end to the cruelest month
that a calendar could dictate.
When darkness strikes
that month is the cruelest –
regardless of season or date.

When I saw today’s (optional) prompt on NaPoWriMo 2016– Day Four (the cruelest month), I knew I had to write this – and pair it with this particular photo (which I found on Pinterest and take no credit for). I could literally write a thousand poems and a million words on the topic of mental health, depression and bipolarity (and I probably have and will), and although I could be more eloquent this is what bubbled up to the surface today, I will offer it up as my entry to the NaPoWriMo Gods.

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Tears

I can water nature’s growing crops
with the tears I shed from my eyes.
There is so much of me I want to share
to make heard over fears kept inside!

I can quench the thirst of those in need
with the tears I shed in my heart.
There is so much of life I want to live
but inevitably I will fall apart.

I can swim in an ocean of unsung hope
with the tears that fall every day.
But my tongue is tied, hope floats out to sea,
as I curl up and hide away.

You say ‘dry your tears, pull yourself up,
there’s no reason for you to cry’.
I smile weakly, but inside the darkness rules
with the echoing question ‘why’?

I can water nature’s growing crops,
whet the lands that are parched with draught,
with the tears that fall from this failure’s eyes
when she’s not the person she ought!

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Coming Down

I feel it in my head and soul,
the world now spinning slower.
I feel myself regain control
no longer controlled by another.
Another one who’s also me
who thinks that things must always be
just fraught with creativity
and just will not give up!

The world is coming into focus
no longer spinning by!
And I am tired, it’s been so long since
I was just me, just I!
Divided down the middle I am
two in one, in chaos, bedlam,
with the stigma of mental illness spectrum,
but I will not give up.

I feel it now, impending doom
I know the next phase will come soon
I’ll dive into depression and
I’ll howl under the darkest moon.
That is the other side to this,
relief not only the sweetest kiss,
but going down the dark abyss
makes it hard to not give up.

This is for all those out there who struggle with bipolar disorder, or any other of the invisible illnesses. You are not alone.

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On a Rainy Sunday Evening

Can we be happy without love?

I mean, I have the love of my friends, my fantastic parents and the snoring golden retriever dog on the floor, but there is no man in my life who lifts me up on a pedestal and makes me feel as amazing as I should. There is no one in bed next to me when I wake up in the morning, no one who calls me and tells me he misses me. No one I can call just because I’m lonely and need to feel loved like that. Can I still be happy? Is that allowed?

And what is it that makes me unhappy simply because I don’t have that one single person? Would that one single person fulfill me in some way I can’t myself? I have so much in my life, I’m so lucky in so many ways! So why is it that I constantly yearn for something to fill a void I don’t even know where it comes from? We’re talking about one single person here, not a whole rugby team (though that would also work in some ways, I suppose)!

What is it about the number two, a two-some, a duet or a pair that is somehow so much more valuable than the unique, the one, the single or the solo? I know I am asking a whole bunch of questions I will never have answered, but just typing them up makes me feel better, even if just for a moment.

I live in the city in the world with the highest number of single households, in a country where more marriages end in divorce than actually survive, in a world where the traditional core-family values seem to have been undermined, erased and abused for decades and still I fear I won’t feel complete without someone else in my life. Why? Who made up those rules? Who has said that just because I have to manage on my own I can’t, won’t be allowed to, be happy?

And no, I’m not actively looking for a man, a partner… I’m not out there dating, flirting, pulling… I don’t want a lover (been there, done that), I’m sitting here on a rainy Sunday night, watching a romantic -supposedly feel-good- movie with a very typically happy American ending and I feel miserable because I don’t have that! I don’t have the ‘Sex in the City’ girlfriend gang! I don’t have the Miranda/Charlotte/Samantha I can call if/when I’m depressed. I have more or less alienated all my friends, because when I feel miserable I don’t deserve them (and why would they want to be around someone who’s miserable anyway?)!

So what should I do? The American, romantic, dream ending is not for me… Perhaps I won’t find the man of my dreams? Does that have to terrify me? Should it? Why does it scare me so? Deep down I am far more worried at the prospect of one day losing my parents, and that is something I know will happen at some point since they aren’t getting any younger, but for now… Would it be wrong for me to try to be happy on my own?

Can we be happy without love?

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