I wrote this poem a while back, but I've decided to post it in honor of October being Dysautonomia Awareness Month. POTS is something I've struggled with for over seven years now. It has taken a lot from me, but it has also given me so much more. From it, I've found strength and perseverance, family and friends that love me and fight with me, and a different outlook on life. I'm not sure if this condition will ever completely go away, but I know that I am healing, and I am getting better. I can only hope and pray that one day "POTS" won't be listed under my "medical conditions" list at the doctor's office. I hope you enjoy this poem!
As many of you know, poems aren't really my thing. I've written one other poem that you can find after clicking on my profile. It's titled "An Ocean of Emotion."
For as long as I can remember, depression has played a huge part in my life. Not because I wanted it to, or because I let it, but because of the chemical imbalance taking place inside my brain. I honestly don't remember when my diagnosis switched from "depression" to "major depressive disorder." When I was 19, I was told I not only had major depression, but that my depression was refractory, or treatment resistant. No amount of anti-depressants could cure the sadness I felt on a daily basis. By 21, I had five suicide attempts, five inpatient hospitalizations, and one two-week stay at a residential facility, all within a 6-year timeline.
If you’ve ever read my blogs, you know I write a lot about mental health. I write about my journeys and experiences with both my physical and mental illnesses, and it’s something I’m very passionate about. About a week ago, I sat down to write. I wanted to share my story, my whole story, but I only got a few paragraphs in before I hit a “writer’s block,” and my mind went blank. I had no idea what I wanted to say, or where I wanted to start, but after a while, I came to the conclusion that I was having a hard time continuing to write, because I was scared. I had no idea how that piece was going to turn out, or if I was really ready to unfold the chaos in my life and write it out, and that scared me. So instead, I want to write about why I write what I write about (mainly mental illness). I want to talk about why I write.
Almost everyone that knows me knows that I've struggled with depression for many years. It's a battle that I hid and tried to fight on my own for a very long time. As I got older, my depression got worse. I was just shy of 15 when I started to struggle with suicidal thoughts—and I still struggle with them chronically six years later.
I’ve never been much of a poet, it’s just never been something that I enjoy writing. But one day, that changed. I wrote a poem. I vividly remember sitting at my desk with a pen and paper, wanting to write all that I was feeling, but I didn’t know how to. I sat there for a good 20 minutes before I was finally able to put what I was feeling onto paper.