Wonder if I truly need them,
Ponder what changes due to them,
Fonder each day passes without them,
Absconder each night staring at them.
If I take the prescription pill,
Doesn’t it take what I can have?
If I strive for a remedy,
Doesn’t it forge a placebo?
If I purchase medication,
Doesn’t it cost more than reward?
“We’re aiming for the middle three boxes,”
My therapist indicating the Bipolar Grid.
“I’ve never felt 1 of those 3 boxes,
How can I trust the medication?
How do I know it won’t take it all?”
What if it takes mania,
Leave only emptiness?
That’s not a fair trade!
Before I felt hypomania,
I thought to myself numerous times:
“I wish I had Bipolar, not Depression.
That way I’d have moments where I’d be alive.”
What an uneducated thought,
Yet I still more or less agree.
My type of mania comes out nicely,
Shooing the darkness away for it’s stay.
If fluctuations are to be contained,
Why can the ending result hurt more?
“Mood stabilizer,”
What does that mean?
Mitigating,
Or controlling?
Rectifying,
Or unraveling?
“Stabilizing,”
Or sedating?
Brittan began writing poetry in June 2020, when she was overwhelmed by emotion upon remembering events previously hidden by dissociative amnesia. She uses poetry as a therapeutic exercise when revisiting homophobic traumatic memories and describing life with BPD & Bipolar 2. She uses poetry as a medium for self-expression when discussing Buddhism, lesbianism, and platonic love.
Mindfully Messy 