In honor of all those living with mental health issues, a poem by me…
i am clinically depressed,
society diagnoses me to the margin.
more so than being transgender or a Catholic heretic,
the socialized stigma of “defective sicko” has blocked my path.
my depressive episodes and resilient oomphs to re-member by spirit
are symptomized as worthless …
because of untempered misunderstandings of depression that blame me.
i am told:
“pull yourself up by the bootstraps of pill-popping”
i am treated with well-intentioned yet mocking quips of “you’ll be okay”.
but hell the f*** NO!!!
my divine chutzpah drives me to love myself beyond misappropriated categories.
i do not murder the reminders of my suffering … I lean into them.
i am more than a WASPy therapist’s DSM classification.
i’m screwed up but damnit, i’m a person.
the words to my now are: undoing, redoing, lucha
i queerify definitions.
my life is the evidence seen and unseen…
i am good enough, period. Amen, blessed be!
featured image from: http://www.namifoxvalley.org/blog/2013/04/24/111/