Explaining depression to them.
My depression is a shapeshifter.
One day it is the size of a firefly in the palm of a bear,
And the next day it is the bear.
On those days, I play dead until the bear leaves me alone.
I call the bad days the "Dark Days".
My mom says "Try lighting candles."
But when I see a candle, I see the flesh of a church.
The flicker of a flame,
Sparks of a memory younger than noon,
I am standing beside her open casket.
It is the moment I learn that every other person I ever come to know,
Will someday die.
Besides mom, I'm not afraid of the dark,
And maybe it's part of the problem.
"I thought the problem was that you can't get out of bed."
But that's the problem, too.
There's more than one problem!
The problem is that anxiety holds me hostage with the gun that is hysteria pointed at me.
Anxiety knocks on the door to my house,
It's inside of my head,
They say "Where did anxiety come from?"
Anxiety is the cousin visiting from out of town,
That depression felt obligated to bring to the party.
I am the party.