Poetry
The End — A Poem From Rock Bottom
This poem was written on one of my darkest days.
TW: suicide, self-harm
I have agonized a lot over sharing this poem. It’s been on my mind quite a bit, especially with the recent celebrity suicides dominating the news headlines. The poem is dark, so it may not be the best read for everyone, especially if you are already feeling down or depressed.
However, my number one purpose in starting the blog Speaking Bipolar was to help get conversations started about mental illness. It’s a sad fact, but suicidal thoughts are a huge part of many of these disorders. Even when they don’t talk about it, many mental illness warriors deal with these thoughts every day.
In addition, it’s important to me that I share my own story, warts and all. How can I expect others to open up if I’m not willing to do the same?
This poem is part of my opening up.
While this poem was written while I was at my lowest, I am living proof that you can survive, and in fact thrive, after reaching rock bottom. Sometimes you just need a little inspiration to get you back on your feet as I write about in my How To Get Back on Your Feet post.
At the time I wrote this poem, I truly planned to end my life later that night. I am so thankful I didn’t.
IMPORTANT: Suicide is never the right choice or the best option. IT IS ALWAYS A MISTAKE. If you or a loved one are dealing with thoughts of suicide, get help immediately.
Even though right now you may feel like you have no one to turn to, there is always help available. Call the National Suicide Prevention Lifeline Phone Number 1–800–273–8255 in the United States or a similar organization in your country. More numbers and resources are listed in the post Make a Contract With Yourself to Keep Living.
Trained professionals can help you to get through the darkness. If you have trouble finding a number, contact the emergency services number for your home area.
Remember, it does get better. Never give up.
Watch the poem in video format or read it below.
The End — A Poem From Rock Bottom
Pounding, screaming this constant noise No more control nor need for ploys Inner turmoil with such unrest After the years all lived in jest
So much alone yet still so near No real comfort from inner fear No place in life in which to hold No real diff’rence as one grows old
The mind cannot help comprehend The mouth cannot inform a friend Though set aflame eyes seldom cry Living a life that’s just a lie
Fear of future, past and present Loss of solace days poorly spent The face a mask a poor façade Spoil the sad child and spare the rod
A scream that is locked deep inside A plea for help held in by pride Not the person once thought to be Falling apart now lost at sea
Set long adrift the course unknown Time depleted no days to loan And soon he’ll sleep and never wake As it is time his life to take
- March 18, 1995
As you can see, this poem was written over 20 years ago. I made the right choice and chose to keep living.
The sun always rises. If you are dealing with the darkest night right now, hold on. The sun is coming. You don’t want to miss it.
Until next time, keep fighting.
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Originally published at https://speakingbipolar.com on June 12, 2018.
