Question Everything

Question everything. Labels useless. Anger. Sadness. Madness. I still surround myself with reminders of my mental health status in spring 2013. I volunteer at a mental health housing facility. Today I had to complete some training and there was information about involuntary holds and mandatory medications. It almost made me cry reading the words on the screen. I remembered my forced hospitalization. I remembered the hospital staff drugging me – injecting mind altering drugs into my ass. It hurt. I cried and screamed. I remember being drug off a toilet midstream and being taken to the bed and held down while someone stuck a needle in my ass. Humiliating. Degrading. And somehow – totally legal in 2013. This happened in Boulder, of all places. So much for patient rights and a progressive society. I know something wasn’t right with me – but my god – there has to be a better way to treat people. It’s hard for me to comprehend what my life was less than two years ago. Today I sit in a cubicle at a fairly respectable job I hate. I make $70k a year. I’m interviewing for jobs that pay $80k a year. I’m interviewing at “good jobs” in fancy offices. I’m educated, smart, and for the most part – well spoken. Most people would never guess I spent a month in a mental hospital, crying and screaming with drool running down my face. Running the halls naked and threatening to kill police. I was diagnosed as bipolar, but I can’t accept that. I tried to play along for a while and learn what I could, but it just doesn’t fit. I don’t take any medication these days, and I’m perfectly fine. If I did what I was told and what was recommended I would probably be a fat zombie by now. I probably wouldn’t have a full time job and I’d be depressed by the weight gain and foggy thoughts the medication causes. I’m becoming more and more skeptical of mental health diagnosis criteria and the drugs they force upon us. Do they really help? Do they cause more harm than good? I’m not sure – but I know for me, drugs were not the answer. I had an experience – marijuana induced psychosis and mania. It’s gone now and I don’t need drugs to keep it in check. I am just me. Drug fee.


Moving Forward

who am I?

did the old me die?

this feels oddly familiar

but something is different

different from before

before I knew I could go mad

you can too

it’s in all of us

who knew?

I thought I knew

that is one idea I blew

now all I can do is stew

let life settle down

take a look around

eliminate the need to fixate

get ride of expectation

and excitation

extremes are gone

replaced by neutral emotions

just take the pill they say

swallow and forget what you may

hard to get out of the cycle

pills today, pills forever

I’m fine now. no longer under the weather

hard to find hope in a pill bottle

all I do is wallow

self-pity and anger

my mind is more like a stranger

the passion is gone

along with the curiosity and joy

replaced by irritation and agitation


useless questions

what is done has already happened

the future has not happened

observe what is

don’t dwell on what was