I was going through a period of time where I did not want to deal with the ins and outs of mental health anymore and the constant need to adjust medications. I was in a very bad mood and grumpy as hell. I wrote this poem for my doctor. I’ve never had the nerve to read it to her though. I love her though and would never actually mean this, but at the time I was frustrated with what seemed to be a monotonous routine with no escape. I’m sure some can relate.

Dancing

Step by step we dance, we tiptoe silently.
Pretending to hear the music and stepping quickly.
You ask me how I’m doing, I say “I’m fine I guess”.
You ask me for more clarity, I try to digress.

But I am not a liar; You’ve come to rely on this.
If you press a little harder, I’ll share with you my list.
The list of what plagues me and the desires to end the pain.
The dance goes on and on. We do this again and again.

You ask me if I need an intervention. Some time in the hospital.
I tell you I don’t want to go. I’d rather be alone and still.
Silently reliving the thoughts; The ones that just won’t cease.
My days are carefully numbered, and I’m tearing up the lease.

My lease on life is over. I’m no longer joining the dance.
I don’t want to lie but from now on, only you will prance.
From now on “I am fine” is all that you will hear.
You will never ever see me cry or nary shed a tear.

No more safety plans, or hospitals. No calling crisis too.
I’d rather there were no more check-ins between me and you.
So when you ask me how I’m doing; From the dance I’m bowing out.
I’m doing as good as can be expected, your wisdom you can clout.

You and your degrees. Your medical license also.
I appreciate your concern, but this I’ll have you know.
I’m no longer dancing. I’ll deal with this on my own.
No more hospitals or CSU’s, You’ll find me in my home.

So let me be in peace, assuming I can find some.
Far away from the dance I will try to run.
Forgive me for isolating. I’m simply much too tired.
I guess from now on, I may just be a liar.

©2024 Stephanie Blomquist