POEM: Jupiter

Jupiter

there are days when even the bright sunshine isn’t enough and I need to come home to hide myself away for a while / I am up in my tower where I’ve pulled up the rope ladder so no one can reach me / meanwhile down below in my backyard there’s a Kiwi painting Andy Warhol images on an old piano / look I could try to explain but if you don’t understand then I probably can’t make you / but let me try to put it simply / it’s a weight / a heavy weight that is constantly there / like / being on the surface of Jupiter / where it’s possible to move / maybe even move / convincingly / but not without a lot of effort / does that sound too melodramatic? / I don’t mean it to / I mean for you to imagine carrying around this extra weight all the time / just as a function of living / not because you’ve done anything wrong or because anyone / has done something to hurt you / after enough years it gets exhausting / some days are much better than others / some days you make bagels and play the ukulele and laugh and tell stories / and almost forget / almost / but even on the best days / even on the days when you feel you might slip the surly bonds of Earth / (to paraphrase the poet) / it’s there / tied to your ankle or belted around your waist or yoked on your shoulders / there must be a key for the lock / somewhere / right?

/ / /

I don’t usually write about depression, even though it’s one of the single most influential elements in my life. It wasn’t until I was 34 or 35 that I finally got diagnosed and started treating it with therapy and drugs. Recently it’s been getting bad again, but I’m grateful that I least have the tools to realize that and deal with it skillfully. I’m not quite doing that yet, but I will soon. In addition to the stigma that often accompanies mental health issues, part of the problem is just describing them. It’s like describing red to someone who can’t see colors. The analogy in this poem is one I often use.

Photo source: http://solarsystem.nasa.gov/