They say ‘Get up. Do things’.
So you do them, a puppet without strings.
They say ‘it’ll help’,
but say nothing of the guilt felt
when you don’t manage,
caused by advice – well meant,
but when you just feel spent,
when you can’t get out of bed,
when your limbs feel like lead,
there’s judgement there,
and it’s hugely unfair.
Cos when every day feels like groundhog day
you don’t get a say.
Nights are the hardest
when living is the farthest
thing from your mind.
And they say ‘relax. unwind’
– but your head is spinning,
your patience thinning.
They’re not in your head
so how dare they tell you to ‘just go back to bed’?
After reliving your worst moments
over and over, lent
to you by your overactive brain
– you still feel the pain.
And they tell you it’s not real
but not how to deal
with it, except ‘don’t think about it’.
Which would fit,
if you were in control.
but you’re not, so you play a role
– tell them you’ll try
make an attempt not to cry.
Days turn to nights, nights days
‘Get up. Do things’ they say.
But when every morning is a fight
and you battle through nights.
You’re wounded, tired
– on high alert, despite the confusion
safety is an illusion.
It takes a lot to convince you
to ‘Get up. Do things’ too.
But they say it’ll be good for you
and you’re not the expert, are you?