Bad Poets' Society

There is a reason why I assiduously avoid housework.  That reason is  I AWAYS GET DISTRACTED! Let's face it, I find virtually anything more satisfying than housework.  After 45 years of keeping my own home, the thrill of dusting, scrubbing, and re-arranging is gone.  Take today for example.  I decided to dust the bookshelves in the family room--and we don't even have any company coming!  But before I managed to set out the feather duster, cleaning cloth, and spray, I came upon my Passages Journal, the repository of some poetry that I had written, mostly around the time I realized that I had been suffering from depression since about the age of sixteen.  Needless to say, I was a bit of a mess, but, having identified the source of my discomfort, I was making a lot of introspective leaps of faith that I would figure things out and become a happier person to be, and to be around.  I guess a good sub-title for this post could be

"Better Living Through Chemistry"

And any number of the pieces could be better titled as  

"Prozac Moment."

As I thumbed through the journal, I even found references to chenille and hiding under beds, so perhaps it is fitting to share a bit from this journal on my blog. After all, it is who I am, or who I was some twenty-five years ago.  I have often found myself awakened by a poem in my head, or a beginning of one. Sometimes they are nearly fully formed by the time I regain consciousness enough to write them down.  And most likely, they can be judged as uniformly bad, but what the hell...

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In 1990, I discovered that the bizarre obsession I had with pulling out my eyelashes and eyebrows had a name, Trichotillomania.  I had suffered with it since the age of eleven, and had passed the years from eleven to forty-one convinced that the only cause for this strange behavior was that I must have been certifiably crazy.  What other reason could there be to explain why  a perfectly and ordinarily vain young female would consciously deface her own face?  Lo and behold, it turned out I had a serotonin-related chemical imbalance in the brain, a medical condition whose treatment included certain anti-depressants. Over the next ten years or so, with a number of different kinds of therapies and medications, my Trichotillomania symptoms did not abate, but I learned how to deal with them, and became an expert at applying just the right kind of false eyelashes.  I also discovered that depression had been a far more debilitating problem than my peculiar follicular disorder.  Early on in my treatment with anti-depressants, I was awash in revelations and poems.  

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Recovery Discovery

1990

The beast no longer lives in my house;

He's taken to visiting elsewhere.

The beast no longer lives in my house;

He's unwelcome and doesn't belong there.

He sometimes returns to find doors locked tight,

The windows closed and shuttered.

But sometimes they're open to let in the light,

So he creeps in and hides in the clutter.

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Forgiveness

1990

Unbidden thoughts

wash over me,

Sweet waters of absolution.

Forgiveness lies so deep within,

Swim the waters of sweet absolution.

Swim the waters of sweet absolution.

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Ascension

1990

I'm floating up through

pearl-pink clouds,

Into shimmers of gold

and shadows of amethyst,

Passing on to a blue so pure,

a blue so divine,

It must be the gateway to Heaven.

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Life in Absentia

1990

I almost forgot to enjoy my life!

So rapt in spirals of despair, 

Plunging ever downward, 

Barely making it back to fresh air. 

~

I almost forgot to enjoy my life!

How bizarre, how can that be?

Losing sight of all that matters,

Losing touch with me.

~

I almost for got to enjoy my life!

I'm rescued now--I'm free!

Rediscovering daily joys, 

Finding my way back to me.

~

I mustn't forget to enjoy my life!

It's the only one that I've got.

I'd hate to come to the end of my trail,

And find it had all been for naught...

but a sigh. 

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Sail On

for my mother

1990

Sail on, little star,

through infinite space.

Your pin-point of light 

beams infinite grace.

Sail on, little star,

astral pilgrim ship,

each life-time a port

on an endless trip.

Sail on, little star,

may you always find peace,

As you drift ever onward,

May love never cease.

Sail on, little star

to wherever time leads,

And scatter your stardust

as heavenly seeds.

 

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Well now, wasn't that all  delightful?  I don't know about you, dear reader, but I think I might actually go dust something!

*Stardust stamp  from Ephie at 

http://www.mycandylove.com/forum/t55012,1-format-favors.htm