Good Enough A Monologue on Depression
Transcriber: Raquel Vasconcelos
Reviewer: Shimaa Nabil
You know how it’s like…
struggling to get out of bed,
but your bed feels like nothing more
than a magnet saying “stay”.
What’s the point of doing anything anyway?
You’re numb to everything and everyone.
Someone brings home
your favorite cheesecake,
you take a bite and you say you’re done.
My mind is like a sheet of paper,
I think to myself:
blank, white, blank…
blank…
Actually, my feelings have lost color.
Is it white
or a glaring frightening black?
Saying there is no escaping this,
nothing can help.
Not friends, not self-care I guess…
Rock bottom must be your home.
Let me know when you’re done
with this poem, because I’m tired…
I’m tired of my nights and days
and all my moments melting away
into one big pot of daily dismay.
I’m sorry, I’d rather just stay at home
when you’d rather just
be able to brush your teeth
without it feeling
like a month of chores.
I can’t take this anymore.
I can’t take this anymore.
I have to go buy groceries on Sunday.
And you see, buying groceries isn’t
that high on my list of priorities.
I’d rather just learn to be happy
for a day or two
or at least let’s stop being so sappy.
But, Malishka you have to
go out of the house.
So I do.
I peel my jeans up my legs
and I’m ready to go buy some eggs.
And I’m tired already.
I return home with dinner for today,
mashed potatoes and vegetables sautéed.
I really like it, I won’t lie…
at least stepping out of home
means I tried.
Like I tried asking for help last week,
but choked on my words
and my eyes began to leak.
I hope my parents see
the lines I trace on my wrist.
I hope they see the bloody crescents
that form inside my fist.
And then, they do.
They aren’t going to be my first to
ask me questions I don’t want to answer,
my therapist’s asking about myself.
Isn’t it just enough to say I’m a dancer?
I wanted this for so long,
yet I’m not able to let my guard down.
I suddenly start crying,
and I really hate the sound.
They make me look at the mirror a lot.
So, eventually, I learned
to appreciate the help of God.
It’s still hard trying to
break out of old habits.
They made me choose from a color palette:
red for my anger,
deep blue for my sadness,
brown for the steadiness
and the yellow for my happiness.
I want red because
I want my screams to echo, but…
instead I just choose yellow.
Some days I still sink back
into my old habit of blankets and tears.
They did tell me
that progress isn’t linear.
So maybe I just go
with my hair back for today,
tomorrow I’ll just bathe
and even that will be OK.
I realize that even if my days
aren’t filled with big skies and fluff,
I’m still going to be good enough.
I won’t have to force myself to be tough
and I’m still going to be good enough.
Some days may be extra rough,
but I’m still gonna be good enough.
I’ll say I’m OK and it won’t be a bluff
and I will be good enough.