Snapshot of Mental Illness: Naïveté

Naïveté

Naïveté. Entrapment of cathartic desire
concealed beneath folds of misapprehension.
Naïveté beckons with demonic undertones
to desire the horrific. Naïveté envies
through silent anger victims of rape
and vicitms of burns and lacerations paid
by their fathers' violent anger. 
A wise, a saner voice asks 

why empathy extends only to victims of drunk 
and violent fathers, or perhaps a Munchausen mother
by proxy, poisoning her son's oatmeal. No pity

I ask, for pity may smother more. No. 
Neither squirming nor shock at my story. No. No more. 
Not your first uncomfortable visit to the world
of residual "emotional dysfunction" from 
an unprotected childhood. No more do I want to be
your token freak, your one-uppance in tales of mistfortune. 
Like a ghost of story. No. 

I beg your silence, your ears.
And perhaps if you too can sit in pieces
of broken innocence, I beg but your companionship,
your arms around my chest, my chin 
allowed on your shoulder despite
the tears soiling your shirt.

But instead I find naïveté painted
as reality. 

Naïveté: (to) consider the reactions of the sane 
to the insane as naïveté.

No empathy. Only fear, repulsion that makes pain 
keen. 

Then worse. The verdict. 
The two sentence answers to lifelong battles
fought in the demon dark corners 
of a haunted mind. I don't interrupt anymore.
Just see naïveté.

Naïveté: (to) consider the reactions of the insane 
to the sane as naïveté.

Until the "h" word broke through the stupor. 
Hospitialization.  
Wait, me? Yes. Then, oh, temptation of escape. 
Wanting nothing more than a pillow, sinking into covers
staring at a wall. With others. Like me.
So perhaps this is, as they say, a sever mental illness. No more. 
No more no more no more. Naïveté.

Experiencing a Panic Attack: A Poem

Panic Attack

I can hear my heart pumping like a knock

on the door before someone else knocks down

the door I’m waiting to open and I cannot

open but need to open. I’m breathing steady

but only because I’m trying to breathe steady

and even though the breath is coming in it’s like

the breath isn’t coming and there’s a vacuum

building in my lungs and if I don’t breathe harder

the vacuum will build and destroy my lungs

and my lungs won’t breathe to my body and

my body will collapse and I won’t be able to open

the door that someone’s knocking at but they’re not

really knocking that’s my heart that’s knocking that

I can’t keep from knocking and

Now the world is spinning and I don’t want it to be

spinning I want it to stay still so I can keep them

from knocking trying to wake me up but I’m not

asleep I’m awake can’t you see I’m awake and I’m

trying to answer can’t you see me try to answer

but no you just see me breathing and you don’t like

my breathing and you’re trying to stop my breathing

but the vacuum is taking over and the vacuum

needs feeding and I’m feeding the vacuum can’t

you let me feed the vacuum but there is no vacuum

why do I think there’s a vacuum make the vacuum go

away and leave me be so I can answer this knocking

the real knocking the people knocking on the door

needing an answer that I need to give them now now now now now now

Snapshots of Mental Illness: An Introduction

This will begin a series on individual mental illness. This series could include what it is like to have, current research on, and reflection on common perceptions about each mental illness. These posts will be vignettes rather than comprehensive definitions. The goal will be to offer snapshots into the life of those with mental illness in order to express the various facets of these complicated disorders.  

Disclaimer: I am more familiar with some mental illnesses than others. For example I would say I know depression intimately while my knowledge of schizophrenia is theoretical at best. While I will attempt to give a voice to each mental illness there I am limited by my experience and hence coverage will reflect that. Each mental illness is equally worth understanding and I encourage those who feel like a mental illness is not being well represented to share their experiences and/or voice their desires to understand more. I would be happy to do research and share my findings.