Hitting Bottom

I remember the day When I hit bottom. I was changing From one medication with side effects To another. Before I started the new The old must be out of my system, Which meant two months Of oppression in freefall… With nothing between me And the abyss. And all of the progress On the former medicine Let me know what I was missing - Which merely added to the misery. Then I was hit hard With a major depressive episode - The worst yet. Still, I had to go Through the motions of living While at the bottom, Endlessly. And the bottom kept getting deeper. No one was there for me (Because they had their own problems, Or they did not understand the need), Instead I had to be there for others. While the nightmare deepened daily. With no respite. So I went through the motions of living, Numbed by my failing senses, Moving slower and slower. Until, one day, When I was getting a few groceries At seven A.M. in the morning. Dressed in a cast-off coat, Slack-jawed with exhaustion, I carried my small purchases To my beat-up old car. But unfortunately, this time, I had an audience. She took one look at me From inside of her fancy car, Sniffed, And turned up her nose. Then she noisily locked her car’s door, And turned away As if I were a beggar Or a threatening escapee Of a hard-core mental institution. In her eyes I saw society’s view of my illness In all of its brutality. The last of my strength failed me - I stumbled to my car, And I cried. I had found the bottom at last. Written January 31st, 2002 © on Jan 31 2002 12:32 PM PST   0 • 1