Category Archives: mental health

Me Vs. Me



Just when it looks like

I’m making progress,

 I fumble

an hour and             start to         sp  lit

                                                   (just like that)

and the other                                half

turns pretty                                      ugly

very fast.

Then it’s me vs.                          me

all weekend.

I want to sleep

away a bad day

or distract myself

when the solitude’s

quiet gets too loud      but first,

                                                                 I must listen

                                                                 to voices tear

                                                                 the skin on my face

                                                                 to shreds;

                                                                 I need to be reminded

                                                                 of who I am

                                                                 despite promotions.

This is when it’s time

For medication–anything

I can reach for

and after,

                                                                   it’s okay

                                                                   to be numb

                                                                  to the voice

                                                                  in the room.

Well, it’s morning

and I thought it over.

I’m not as bad

as the voices are


                                                 But this won’t last

                                                for long.



On my fathers side,
They ignored the elephant
On the living room couch
And called it toughness.
This was how they turned
Wife and kids
Into therapy. 
This was how my cousin
Turned a belt into a noose
In his closet.
This was how they called 
my aunt the “bitter black woman” 
stereotype and how they saw
her charge to  dim
A room.
And this is how the walls in the living
Room finally started
                      To cave in
from the extra weight
as they sat around and gossiped
about their self-aware sister. 
At least no Prozac among them.
I guess this was toughness.

Schoolday Blues



It was still controversial
to talk about your panic attacks

or Prozac.

So I didn’t tell my teacher
Of my insecurities.
I just said, “I don’t know”
Or         “I forgot”
To escape the times
She called on me.

On Thanksgiving, I told
My husband about the time
She called me slow
And she probably forgot by now.
But these days,
I just want to tell her,
About the nerves no one
Talked about,
How I was probably smarter
Than she thought,
But just so damn

Curse or Blessing




“…The spell (mental illness)

kept a finger on my lips

for years after. When I try

to measure that time like a

mother checking her child’s

progress with a yard stick, there

are gaps in development,

as if two pickets on a fence

were kicked in and the air between

became vague memory. ”


(Continued on my website)

Social Anxiety (part III)



Thank you for the invitation.

But I must be leaving early.

They noticed the cracks

in my head the second I entered

the room. And you can do better

than a burden.