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RisingUp May 5
Imagine

Having an illness that impacts every facet of your life.

It’s there when you wake up, and when you go to sleep,

An illness that impacts all of your organs.

That ravages your personality and sense of self.

That destroys relationships, careers, and engagement in life...

And nobody supports you.

-

You are ridiculed, blamed. Told that you are stupid, need to snap out of it.

Others gossip about how you’ve been looking and acting.

You become bathed in shame so suffocating, it nearly drowns you.

Treatment is a long, arduous battle that many face on their own. Many are forced to keep up with work or school because this isn’t seen as a “real” illness. But you are essentially fighting yourself through the process. In fact, many can't even afford proper treatment.

If you don’t recover, the shame persists. You believe you’re defective and failed treatment, that it’s all your fault.

If you recover, nobody rings a bell. Few congratulate you or say much at all. Many who recover hit burn out, and are then questioned as to why they are burnt out.

The shame never escapes you.

I hope one day
Individuals with mental illness
Will be able to celebrate wins and have others support them in their low points
As if it is a completely normal and expected reaction.

Please support those near and dear
They are fighting a battle most would fear.
Max Gisel Apr 30
Today was harder than usual.
As I sit surrounded by friends,
My descent into hell begins.
It starts at the base of my bony spine,
"Nothing more than a sting,"
I say. "Nothing more.."

The burning pain crawls higher,
A wildfire spreads up the mountain of my ribs.
"Just a sting, its just a sting.."
I feel my body sink into the seat,
My head drooping to the table.

Burning tears form in my eyes,
Rusted razors crowd my throat,
As the searing pain burns through my body.
I heave and shake,
My friends heads turn.

I can't move a muscle,
At least no more than a twitch.
My friends call my name,
pat my back,
try to get a response.

I can't hear a word,
But my ears crackle and burst.
My heartbeat slams my rib cage,
In an attempt to escape.
It is too late.

Groans escape me,
I claw the desk with my trembling hands.
The wildfire spreads,
Hips, chest, shoulders, neck, head.
My mind scratches the walls of my skull,
Trying to find an way out.

I hold the papers in front of me,
Now soaked with tears,
Trying to grab hold of anything.
Anything that will pull me out
of the wildfire in my bones.
Chronic pain often leaves me debilitated and unable to move, seemingly striking at random. This was two days ago, when I collapsed in front of my friends (and bf) while we were drawing together. I can't thank them enough for their understanding and support through my illness flares. I used to hide my pain, but I have found that sharing it and allowing myself to react often makes me feel better, at least emotionally.
Simon Bridges Apr 28
It suits you
             And me
That's all that matters  
It suits
The mirror not to reflect less of you
It suits
Your clothes to lie that they've grown

To use fountain pens
                             Write left handed
            Smudge words with wrists
           Before meaning can be seen

It suits us to know
                           Without telling each other
Max Gisel Apr 28
Why should I care
If my useless parts hurt?
Why would It matter
If they fell off?
Why can’t I hurt them
If they are so wrong?
Why should I see a doctor
If they should rot?

In a way, I’m ashamed.
No one should have to see them,
Care for them.
Care for them like I never did.
They are dreadful,
Deformed, rotten, scarred.
Something so alien,
That I must rid myself of them.
They cursed me,
Cursed me to a life of deformity,
Self hate, disgust, pain.

By normal standards they’re useless.
They hurt, not even serving a function.
Barely aesthetic for a lover,
Completely foreign to me.
I hide them.
No one should have to bear witness
To this cursed form I reside in.
Free me from this flesh,
This broken, scarred frame.
Built wrong and improper.
With corrupt systems,
My crooked vessel fails.
Gender dysphoria and physical disabilities are really a duo from hell.
Max Gisel Apr 28
Claws rip me inside-out
The path of my spine allows it.
I look up at myself
Surgery scars, shaky limbs,
Pale skin, scabs, and veins.
I’m slouched over, limp
As fire burns through my bones.
The room is spinning through,
my heart is falling out of my chest
My lungs struggle and shake.
The paramedic questions me,
I see his blurred figure through tears.
They connect the wires,
Words fail me this time.
Sweat is dripping down my body
Cold needles caress me.
This is going to be a long night.
About my recent trip to the ER. I have a couple of chronic health issues, but this is the first time I had to be taken by ambulance. The whole thing was surreal, I tried to capture it in poem form, enjoy!
Kyla Apr 23
we’re going to be okay
aren’t we
three messes broken by the same people
two hearts shattered
all mentally ill
it’s in the family !
One erratic and spilling everything and everywhere
pun intended
one grounded and lonely on the ground
broken by a girl too toxic to have
the other both erratic and messy and lonely
loneliest
Kyla Apr 23
sad small baby with an easter egg and a surgeon who didn’t know her ***
sad helpless parents leaving her to get her chest cracked open
as theirs did the same
sad sad stories and tiny hearts and mine indifferent and cold
meka Apr 11
I'm sorry, mum
That you went through all that pain
To bring me into life
For me to just waste away
And wish I wasn't alive
Eve Mar 21
i am afraid that
if i were to perish in a car accident
and they see that
i am an ***** donor
and a doctor examines
the vessel i call a body,
he might say;
"none of this is any good"

i would be too dead
to be devastated
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