Geg’s Psychosis Poetry

[ggggtotalwarrior]

This is a project that’s a bit personal to me but it’s something I also have decided to share with the good folks of TWC because it is some stuff I wrote that I’m also a bit proud of and always wanted to share with others. Long story short, a few years back I began having crippling panic attacks and was prescribed a SSRI by a general practitioner I barely knew pr had seen that made me incredibly paranoid and suicidal as well as giving me crippling insomnia while being told I had to “push through it”. Honestly given I was playing rugby at the time and the issues started with bouts of headaches and vertigo, I’m partly still convinced I had an undiagnosed concussion but it’s water under the bridge. The mental strain I was under at the time eventually resulted in a rough few weeks in psych. This is a poetry project I wrote in there that kind of kept me going while I detoxed and switched meds. I hope if anyone here is going through things like that they know they’re not alone and hope you guys enjoy the ravings of someone losing and re-finding their mind in poem form:

Chapter I: Depression

I. Fear

The pit in the stomach,
Like a sea of black washing over you
As the vision starts to go dark,
You fear the end is near

Faint your body feels,
As a wave of freezing heat fills your eyes,
As your limbs go electric and numb,
You’re filled with dread, already dead

It eats away at you,
It’s the lack of compassion that hurts the most

Like a leach bleeding it’s victim dry,
Like an infection to the spine,
It leaves you lost,
And paralyzed

This poem of course refers primarily to the panic attacks that were my initial issue as well as the perception from my initial primary doctor that the physical issues I was dealing with at the time were simply entirely in my head and could be easily solved by his preferred prescription in a “one size fits all” stance while refusing to switch me off when the pill I was given greatly exacerbated my anxiety issue along with bringing severe side effects. The “fear” these panic attacks brought felt like facing down death itself several times a day, truly leaving me paralyzed.

I’ll try to post one every day or few days going forward til I reach the end.

[Turkafinwë]

The poem certainly speaks to me. It describes the subject vividly and I can feel it. I think it's great you share this with us, that fact not so self-evident as some might think. I know I was extremely reluctant to share anything with anyone about what I'm going through or went through before I started meds and going to therapy. Still am for many things.

As much as you are here to show us that we're not alone, we are here to show you that you also are not alone.

[Akar]

Oh yeah, definitely speaks to me too as someone who's had bad anxiety since forever basically. That was an awesome (if that's the right word for something like this) poem. Very well written and I love the title of this thread.

I know we've already talked a bit about what you mentioned in the OP but I've been through similar stuff so if you ever need to talk about it you can always PM me or Discord me or whatever boo <3.

I know I was extremely reluctant to share anything with anyone about what I'm going through or went through before I started meds and going to therapy. Still am for many things.

Not giving a is an extremely liberating feeling and I would strongly recommend it for anyone. What the are they gonna do about me taking meds or talking to a therapist? Nothing, em. Anyone who judges someone for getting help isn't someone worth giving any of your time to, em. At the end of the day the only person who needs to be happy with you is you.

Also what I said to Geg above goes for you too, Turkey.

[ggggtotalwarrior]

Yeah it was a tough time. It basically started with headaches and vertigo/sight problems and when I went to the doctor and IMO was justifiably worried/panicked from those initial issues, everything got turned into “you’re just making up the physical issues and everything is purely anxiety, so I won’t treat any other supposed issues until you take and stay on this.”, so when those first medications made me manic and then suicidal I felt like I had no recourse but to keep taking them anyway because if I stopped it would be framed as me being unhinged from not taking them rather than vice versa. It felt like more than anything I’ve lost faith almost entirely in the American health care system and the initial issue was exacerbated to a far greater degree than it should have been by negative health care. Thanks for your feedback by the way fellas

This second poem will also deal with my immediate feeling upon being placed in the ward. At the time I had just come back from my first year of college and started again working at a fast food chain that I had worked the prior two years before leaving, a place where I was IMO basically constantly being given more work to do to make up for others’ laziness (there was a bit of a sexism issue too where the owners seemed to have a culture where women weren’t really expected to do much but handle customers while I had to move across multiple stores, clean, bake, handle money, handle storage, etc.) while not really being given much in financial incentives. Essentially, I was just “happy to have a job when I’m home on break and have a reference” while doing absurd hours that really weren’t worth it, and didn’t know how to really stand up for myself. This is mainly about my frustrations with the situation and the fact that I was still being pressured to work just to make their lives slightly easier while clearly having issues far bigger at the time, and my stupid ass still kept mostly saying yes. I mean, the entire premise of having your entire franchise function well being dependent on a teenager (that’s how it felt to me at time) who’s getting paid barely more than minimum should’ve been completely absurd to me even then and I should’ve just quit but I did like so many of my coworkers I felt bad leaving them to rot and put helping others over myself.

II. Yes Man

Too weak, too meek
Too mild-mannered to beg for rest
Like a robot programmed to only say “yes”,
Laboring away despite the endless stress

A cog in the corporate machine,
I’m guilted by the human faces they hide behind
I’m instructed to toil forever, ignore the pain
A ploy for more money, for only their gain

I hate that while I struggle,
When I find myself on the brink
Unlike a horse in a metaphor,
They lead me to water I willingly drink

[Akar]

That's really ing good.

[ggggtotalwarrior]

This next poem is one I wrote early in this period just as I was detoxing from the medication that had made me suicidal and began to again struggle with insomnia. It continues with the theme of anger towards myself and my employers for pushing me to work extra hours while struggling with anxiety and medication but also deals with acceptance of the situation, and feeling that after a few months of issues since being prescribed, this will be the thing that gets me help. Granted this is the era where we are gonna start seeing some wubs but I’m sure it’ll be easy to use context clues to figure it out.

III. Self-Loathing

It feels as long as I remember, I’ve wanted to be alone
Because it makes it so much easier to have a face of stone
I don’t fear the solitude; I crave it
So much easier to worry about my own

I ing hate that I can’t say no,
I always let your needs weight me down
I always do as you say so,
The endless tide is making me drown

My eyes struggle to stay awake;
I keep taking these burdens I ing hate
I wanna sleep but all I do is shake,
Theres an exhaustion I can never sate

Im ready to ing explode,
Im sick and tired of feeling used
I can only do what I’m told,
From myself I’m being abused

I’m so done with helping others
I just doesn’t feel ing fair
All these burdens do is smother,
I hate that I can’t help but care

I hate that I have a heart,
But maybe it’s better that I do
Gotta give myself a rest to start,
Maybe I’ll finally get help too

[ggggtotalwarrior]

This next poem deals more with the physical complaints I had which gave me my initial panic attacks, and touches on some of the same issues as my last couple.

IV. The Beginning

The pounding in the temples comes first
Too quickly, too much pain
Then the heart begins to race
Too quickly, too much strain

The vision gets blurry,
The worst part not knowing why
My eyes and aching fatigued,
I’m terrified I’ll ing die

The worst part I think is the distortion,
as I’m afflicted with this vertigo
Everything coming from different directions,
Sometimes fast, yet always slow

I’m obsessing now about this illness,
What is wrong with me?
But there’s only one thing the doctors see,
I’m in need of help from psychiatry

And in that moment I ing hate them for not believing,
Not conceiving,
That we could both be right

[Akar]

Just now noticed you posted these. Incredibly well done as ever. I am impressed.

Seriously, really good.

[Alwyn]

Well said all! Your poems paint a powerful picture of what you were experiencing, they speak to me as well.

[ggggtotalwarrior]

Chapter II: Obsession

This chapter deals more with the issues I had on the first medication I was prescribed, an SSRI that created an insane amount of anxiety on top of the anxiety I had already dealt with and left me in a state of mania. While my initial panic attacks were becoming debilitating and leaving me manic, it was under this first medication that I became completely IMO unhinged and a non-functioning, insomniac hypochondriac. To top it off I was so convinced I had a serious medical issue given I didn’t understand that this medication could create this insomnia, believing it an extension of my previous headaches, that I refused to cut myself off feeling that my doctor who had prescribed it would just give me the runaround again or insists that my issues were because I’d stopped taking it.

V: Anxiety

Tightening in the chest, wobbling in the legs
Shakimg in the arms, lightness in the head
Each breathe becomes a labor, feels like it won’t end
Even as I’m still living, inside feels almost dead

Every second becomes an hour,
When the fear begins to creep
I wish I had the power,
To fight when it runs deep

I just want to be home,
To again be the old me
But now in this cell I roam,
Maybe it’s not meant to be

My mind won’t stop racing,
I fear to tell things true
Cant stop this mental pacing,
When the drugs just continue

They say it’s for my own good,
But it’s hard for me to see
Because from where I’ve stood,
I had twenty pill-free years where I was me

I want to be me once more,
Want someone to just believe
But even if it’s not in store,
I’ll have to continue to believe

I want to believe.

[Akar]

Good and powerful stuff, man.

[ggggtotalwarrior]

This next poem relates to the crippling insomnia I began to deal with during this period as a result of certain anxiety medications I was placed on, and of course the entire Chapter II theme of obsession was in many ways drawn from this initial insomnia of a brain that just would not shut down

VI: Insomnia

Drifting through each day,
Eyelids heavy and red
It is for only sleep I plead,
Yet there is no solution

The vision becomes blurred,
As if it is trapped in a mist
And the head becomes heavy,
While it is searching for sleep’s bliss

There is a burning desire,
To finally be free
But with that ticking clock
An end I cannot see

I am begging for it, yearning for it
Just an hour of rest is all I seek
But sadly against insomnia’s strength,
I find myself much too weak

And as it burrows itself slowly,
Like a cancer in the head
The exhaustion builds itself quickly,
while I lie awake in this bed

[Alwyn]

These poems communicate powerfully the sense of being trapped, of a mind that won't stop racing and of a desperate need to be free.

[Akar]

I've had insomnia my entire life and damn that poem is relatable.

This is good man. GOOD .

[ggggtotalwarrior]

Thank you for your kind words boyos

This next poem continues much the same theme as the rest of Chapter 2, obsession. There comes a point in the ward where you're cycling between medications, all of which make you more manic and unable to sleep at best and violently ill at worst, where you just lose hope and feel a bit of despair. Forgive how often I reuse the same rhyme schemes in some of these, I didn't quite notice it until looking back at it later haha

VII. Dementia

The pain begins to radiate,
While the jaw starts to crumble
Piece by piece the teeth shatter,
While this prison begins to tumble

The body is the prison, limiting the mind
As it breaks down and traps memories in its bind
This body is crucified by its pains and aches,
And as the years continue, so do the tremors and shakes

That numbness shoots for the digits to the spine;
It is for the days of youth that the body pines
But with the rotting, there's no reversing this clock,
For the body is a prison, the mind is in the stocks

The hairs begin to fade, grow old and gray,
As there is no keeping this collapse at bad
Finally the infection spreads to the mind as well;
That perfect powerful soul finally enters hell

But to the mind it's not all for naught,
That it too has lost the battle fought
With its last memory, the mind has no regret,
For of its broken body, the mind may finally forget

[Alwyn]

That's a dark, potent ending - it's only in defeat that the wounded mind finds release.

[ggggtotalwarrior]

This next poem represents one of the medications I went on, and how it made me constantly hungry and balloon in weight. This marks the transition from this chapter to our next, which deals more with observations in the ward and a truly fractured psyche. In some ways the hunger refers to not just the physical hunger, but also the mental stress I was under at this time.

VIII. Hunger

A hunger so insatiable,
It threatens to devour itself
Begging and pleading for more food,
Screaming and demanding something to consume

The hunger is not satisfied,
It can never be fulfilled
It builds and grows to tremendous size,
Destroying all in its wake

The hunger grows angry,
It growl at those it meets
Hunting, it runs uncontrollably,
But deep inside it weeps

The hunger is a slave,
It cannot find peace
For the hunger shall never end;
Never find the salvation it seeks

[Alwyn]

The personification of the hunger is very effective!

[ggggtotalwarrior]

Chapter III: Oppression

This chapter deals with my finally being admitted due to my increasing paranoia and depression that resulted from my crippling insomnia. I remember feeling more tired than I have ever felt there during the bits where the insomnia returned, and constantly taking medication at night hoping it would finally let me sleep before waking in a cold sweat usually within an hour and then waiting another 23 hours or so until I could try again. These poems though came when I was mostly just depressed and still mostly lucid, desperately trying to find something to occupy myself with during the long days and observing my fellow patients while still having a bit of anger and resentment towards the doctors for my situation.

This first poem refers to a young man who I encountered there who incidentally had also gone to my high school and was only a bit younger than me. I had learned this fact when my aunt, who had worked as an aide/secretary at my school came to visit me and recognized him. He was a nice young man who I befriended but was unfortunately suffering from a bout of schizophrenia, and oddly enough greatly reminded me of my aunt and mother's cousin who had lived with my family for a few years. He'd lived with us around the time he turned 18 over a decade prior following his grandfather/guardian's death and not only ended up suffering from schizophrenia, but also shared the same name as this young man. It was honestly a ridiculously strange coincidence and one that prompted me to write this poem (my first about another individual during this time) that I felt not only captured his own experience but, in some way, eventually came to describe mine as well. Bear in mind, this is a poem I've chosen to split in half, with this only being the first half of the full poem.

IX. The Whispers (Partial)

The whispers made him come here,
Quietly they began
The whispers made him feel fear,
Loudly they ran

The whispers played tricks on him,
Made his thoughts so strange
The whispers said terrible things to him,
Made his thoughts deranged

The whispers took away sleep from him,
'Til his body was tired
The whispers gave mania to him,
Forever his mind was wired

The whispers took him from himself,
And try as he might
The whispers made a new him for himself;
He's waging a losing fight

For the whispers don't discriminate;
They lie in the shadows ready
Ready to pounce when you're at your weakest,
Ready to ensnare the unsteady

[Akar]

That's really ing good. Maybe the best yet.

The backstory to the poem brings back many memories of my past.

The poem invokes and inspires great imagery for me - powerful stuff.