Posted in Random Poems I Find Meaningful

A Forgotten Home

This is a piece that describes how I feel whenever I think about my mother and the family I have far away. They're my everything and I wouldn't trade the world for them.

A Forgotten Home

By: Anita Marie

Home is where your heart resides
It's where you can be whoever you'd like and find a safe haven within
The hush of the noise, the gleam of the night lights
The little things that just makes home a home

Some live in huts, others in mansions
In homes there is dining space for a family to share
Family could be a family of six
Then again family could just be mom and you
As long as there is a reason to get together, home will remain a home

It may be a freshly bought house or an ancestral home
Yet it will always be yours to treasure
Yours to cherish and yours to endure

Life thrives at the very soul of the hearth
Spreading warmth to the coldest of hearts and light to the darkest of souls
It's where you find that spark of hope that ignites the fire of your deepest passions
And that warm hand to hold when you think you're left out to drown in the ocean

But sometimes we forget home
We forget what it's like to build make believe fortresses with the pillows we sleep with at night
It becomes all too vague how we first rode our bikes and how we embraced the number of times we fell

Sometimes home slips from our mind when we're enjoying a cup of coffee at a shop
Sometimes it completely disappears when we're dreaming about the unknown feared in the dark

We sometimes walk through our lives with the knowledge of something else other than home
But no matter how far the distance we go
Our feet will always lead us back home

Nevermind how dangerous the road back may be
Home can be the house on the next street or thousands of miles east
Sometimes you realize you never left home
Sometimes you understand that home never leaves you
For every time you choose to leave it, home will find you

Without needing a map, a compass, or a GPS
Home will find you because home knows who you are
Because whether you admit it or not, home has always been in your heart

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Posted in Poems about my Health

Despite the Medicine

So, this is another poem about struggling with OCPD. For those who don’t know me, I am a girl currently suffering from one of the more invisible mental illness, Obsessive Compulsive Personality Disorder. Again, this is not to be confused with OCD, which is an Obsessive-Compulsive Disorder. The primary focus of this poem is mainly on the stigma that comes with a mental illness, particularly, the intake of medications. It is one of the few things that really irritate me and basically, I just want people to understand why I need this.

Despite the Medicine
By: Anita Marie

People call me crazy
Sometimes even lazy
They say I blame the devastations of my life on illnesses I fake
But they don’t know the frustrations I have over the decisions I make

Acting out. Depressed.
Heart Broken. Or stressed.
I could go on and on about how people perceive mental illness.
I get it, it’s invisible to the eye and almost impossible to detect.
And the stigma distresses me.

For the information of some, this is biology.
Its quite similar to how Animal Farm works.
Some neurotransmitters are more equal than others.
Until one or two of them starts to take over.

For the information of many, the symptoms are similar.
It’s just like how clear water resemble alcohol.
Both bubble up when you shake them yet steadies immediately after you do.
But the difference is one can cause miracles and one can kill you.

I’ve read many medical textbooks and I refused seeing a doctor.
You’d think 10 months of denial would help put my life in order?
No. It was out of my control. And I was too scared to admit it.
I thought of a thousand possibilities of what might have changed.
Is it the stress? Am I crazy? Am I just this anxious? What is wrong with me?
How ironic, right?
That a therapist would need a therapist of her own?
Who’s supposed to teach her what she already knows?

Every time I see my doctor, she always says,
“I’m gonna give you a prescription of these meds.
But always be reminded that this is only 50% of the recovery, so don’t be too sure
That you will get better until you perform the remaining 50% for your future.”

I believed this was the little push I needed to get better in school.
But others thought otherwise and thought I was a fool.
Cause medicine for the brain is still taboo
In a society that fusses over anything new

“You know what, that girl who went through suicide? She was on pills.”
“I think that man who was crazy overdosed until he got himself killed.”
“Are you sure about this? Be careful, honey, the side effects are hard.”
“WTF! Once you start, you might be dependent on them like Clark.”

Cognitive Behavioral Therapy. Reality Testing. They do help but without medicine its not the same
Because no amount of that can ever fix the imbalances in my brain.

And maybe that’s why I wrote about it.
To be honest, a mental illness cannot kill you.
But a society that stigmatizes it actually can.
Despite the medicine.

Posted in Random Poems I Find Meaningful

Pain

When you’re working in the medical field, like I am, you get a lot of patients dealing with pain, the physical kind of pain. As a therapist, I also get to work with people who experience the worst kind of pain, psychogenic pain. With exposure like this, I’ve always wondered about how pain is a dimension of its own and how diverse that dimension is. So, this poem shows my struggle as I try to map out the concept of pain.

Pain
By: Anita Marie

Is it pain that I truly feel inside?
Is it pain that I desperately hide?
But what is pain, exactly, what’s it like?
Is it just a feeling you get after losing fights?

Let’s check the dictionary
Not that it hasn’t been bothering me
It’s listed here with its respective meaning
Pain is a physical or mental suffering

Suffering, you say? Is that really pain?
Having to feel it, is it a boon or a bane?
A boon to let us know that something’s amiss
A bane to cry about seeing monsters in the mist

It might be a mix of both but what pain really is? It’s subjective.
It’s something that makes us confused, down, and overprotective
Of our thoughts, actions, and the words we say
We also fear the judgement that comes along the way

It may be a tummy ache or an impending heart break
Sometimes it’s all real, sometimes it’s all fake
A familiar stranger and a distant friend
It comes and goes, starts and ends

But what pain is, pain gets
Like city lights and how they make a mess
Never letting us look up to see the stars we love
Making our heads look down rather than up above

And what pain is, it gives
Proof that a person truly lives
Helping us understand that there is more to the world
And that because of it, I am not an ordinary girl

I have experienced pain for what it was
And it wasn’t as easy as it is to make a fuss
About the controversy of feeling this way
Of going through the necessary suffering it awakes

My strength

So, I thank my pain
It’s my greatest gain
And it will forever remain
Attached to my name