Healthy living, healthy parenting, healthy gardening. One Family's approach to off grid living.

Posts tagged “PPD

November 2010; Manic Runaway

Trying to remember the psych ward and all the rest

gives me post-post traumatic stress

I wonder: tall ferns, low moss

If you fell in love with me on the island,

a manic runaway.

See through dress and casual sex,

Bob Dylan in a bakery,

beaches & my VW

An old boyfriends mirror-

In our eyes we saw the rest of our lives.

You’re still here.

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September 2010-Jupiter was not her real name

She was standing in the middle of the common area yelling.  Swearing.  Waving her arms about when I met her.

I could see it was an act, and yet it wasn’t an act.  It was go hard or go home.

Later, we danced in the courtyard, in our castle made of chalk.  I ripped her shirt down the sides, took the arms off and tied it down in strips from breast to hip.  The short sleeve she pulled over her head and let hang down in a triangle like some sort of psych ward cowboy fashionista.  She told me Jupiter was not her real name.  Her story was rough, daughter of a hippie druid and a small city rockstar, left alone with her brain and sedated into mushy when they caught her.

She was 17 and in her eyes I saw my eyes.  I could have been lost in this world, without the love of my parents.  Only a boy came to visit and she was forward, this woman child.  She had him.  She would probably destroy him.  She was wild, and didn’t want to be tamed.  She gave me her rock and showed me her drawings.  She asked if I thought she was crazy.  

In a hospital room in reality or a dream she tore a stream from a mattress.  Made red foam roses and flooded the place.  That’s how she got here.  Fought a police man and screamed at the heavens.  She probably bit someone.

In my arms she was a child, eager to please, sad, beautiful and alone.  We sat on the floor while she summoned magic and I listened, because listening is good.  Like a movie, I watched her story.  She carried all she had in her pack. 

I ran in the halls.  Slowing down past the nurses window so they wouldn’t see me.  I ran until my heart was pounding, I was out of breath.  Like a caged animal.  A lone mama wolf in the zoo.  But this was lock down baby, and I begged to get in.

Jupiter was sitting at the pay phone crying.  They weren’t coming.  No one was coming.  I held her hand on her shoulder, silently.  She gasped between tears-” I just need to get over this fucking affliction.  Parental addiction!  Give me your potion!  Give me my ration!  Make me sleep!  Forget my convictions!”

They ushered me away from her and gave her a handful of little pills.  In a few days she was okay.  In a few days she went away.  She was jumping and flying and laughing and rolling her way outta there. 

Lady child Jupiter, let me hold you

In this beautiful prison

where they feed us eggs and berries

Here, you must not run, you must not cry

even though in the kind faces

are rapists and lunatics.

Brief licks of freedom and I am

a child again, pushing the limits

You tore up a room to see what would happen,

hit the ground running

whispering around the edges

of double consciousness

but the darkness lives without.

I am afraid of the men who cut off the heads of women and children

in countries far away

of machetes on buses and bloody heads rolling

to a stop at my feet.

In my mind the circus is setting up and taking down

while making lists and letting the parade get started.

No knights in shining armour

Just men

good men

bad men

In the end, don’t run off with the first nice man to hold your hand

and save your life.

Hold on, hold on, hold on

you’re going down, down, down.

Walking so close to the edge

 you’re star dust.