PTSD is Really Quite the Chore

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The water is dark and the waves are violent

My mind is sick and I beg for silence 

Desperate for truth, have to see every side

In my search for perspective, I fear I've gone blind 

 

Resolution feels close; it's within my grasp

Desperation sets in, and it all happens so fast 

An error of judgement, a glossed over fact

I begin to spiral, and I forget how to act 

 

If I can't make it right, I won't be okay 

If I say the right words, it will all go away

But if I'm not okay, then I can't make it right 

And everything will devolve into a problematic fight. 

 

I have to step back, recognize what really matters 

And that isn't my ego, I don't need to make it fatter 

People pleasing won't help, what they want is irrelevant 

What they need, that's important, it's okay to be ambivalent 

 

And sometimes what they need will hurt quite a lot

The truth can be painful, like the meds in a shot 

There's no need to be abrasive; show some remorse!

No need to raise my voice, there's no reason to get hoarse.

 

And now here I am, right back at the start 

In a desperate search for truth, it tears me apart 

What if I'm uncertain, will it be worth the pain?

Will uncertainty ruin the resolution we'd gain? 

 

You have to hear me out, please try to understand 

The same thing happens, again and again 

I'll find myself confused, unsure of what to do

I'll know that my words will leave an impression on you 

 

And what if this mark then becomes a brand?

A source of painful trauma that gets out of hand?

If I care about the wrong things, what happens then?

When you think that I care about you less than my friends?

 

Will you understand my nuance, if I don't make it clear?

Will you actually hear the message I want you to hear? 

Words can mean different things, it just depends on who you are,

Interpretations can vary, assuming won't get me very far 

 

I'm afraid I am lost and I don't know what to do

Every decision I choose just keeps on hurting you 

And I can't accept that, you don't deserve this pain -

That's not realistic; it ignores what can be gained

 

I need a break from this poem;

I'll come back to it, add to it in a moment 

There's a metaphor here; if I can catch it, I'll hold it

Use it like a weapon, right now this tension is the opponent 

 

And my intention?

Is to paint a picture perfect message 

that matches the inflection, 

that captures the reflection 

of my thoughts.

 

To make my thoughts more represent 

the ways of love and faith 

and peace and grace

I was taught to accept 

were made to replace

the ways of anger and hate 

and violence and rage 

that defined my age 

of childhood.

 

Discourse is a poem, and there's poetry in fighting 

Don't take it too far, there's no beauty in violence 

I have to step back, know how to walk away 

Know that I'll come back once I feel like I'm okay

 

It's problematic 

I'm in a panic

I've made a mess of my psycho sympathetic 

system

Now I'm withdrawn 

Council in my head yelling at my every action

 

It's symptomatic

I'm feeling manic

Don't want the diagnosis, 

gotta learn how to cope with it.

 

There's no choice in this 

 

It won't get the best of me

It's not BPD

Just anxiety 

and some ADD, 

dose of PTSD -

Too much MSG?

Something's wrong with me,

And that's clear to see

Not looking for excuses - I want no amnesty 

 

I'm emotional

And it's versatile 

It's a crushing weight 

That makes me hesitate 

 

And it's whimsical, 

With the power to uplift and heal 

you from all the trauma and the scars you feel

 

That's unquestionable 

It's of the soul 

And it's personal 

They're who I am and who I am to be

These feelings I feel produce the me who's me

 

The pain, the happiness,

The pleasure, the sadness

The hope, the madness

It's active, it's passive 

 

Like light and dark 

Or rain in a park

Contrast gives meaning 

I hope you can see it

 

My sympathy is a symptom of the system that I am 

My trauma was all but apart of the plan

Neglect is what made me, and the abuse from that man 

Is what taught to me speak up, how to take a firm stand

 

Despite my trauma and despite my flaws

Despite my hurts and despite my faults 

Despite all the pain from the mistakes that I've made

I love who I am, and that doesn't change

 

It's okay that I still need to work on my ways

It's okay that I'm not realized in a day

And I don't always need to have to know what to say

I don't need all the facts, there need not be any stakes

 

Ambivalence means nothing; all I know is I know nothing 

And by making that clear, at least I'm doing something. 

 

"I don't know how I feel about this, can you first give me space?

If I get worked up now, I might be in your face

Your problems are a priority, I mean no disgrace

But I need to shrink away, find a quiet place"

 

"Blame those of my past, and please lend me your grace

Some things are complicated, please don't start to chase 

I'll come back when I know I've figured out what to say

And if I can't figure it out, well it'll all be okay"

 

"I'm nothing like my father, I'll be back; we'll be safe

My emotions get the best of me; hold onto your faith

I've worked on this in therapy, don't call 988"

 

"If it really comes to that, I'll dial that line

But God will sort me out, trust me, I'll be fine. 

I don't mean to worry you; I've been here all before

Post traumatic stress disorder 

is really quite the chore"

 

"I need air in the attic; I have to clear out my mind

Remind myself why it feels good to be kind

Calm my sympathetic nervous system, then I'll be fine

And if it really comes down to it, I promise I'll dial that line"