25 – My Overthinking Shenanigans [Mental Health Awareness Week]

Being the last day of mental health awareness week, I am sharing a spoken word poem I performed at my first ever open mic 4 years ago. I was referred to see a psychotherapist prior to starting 6th Form back in 2013 because my thinking patterns severely impacted every single wrong or right doing I committed in everyday life. Overthinking dominated my reasoning, my perceptions about myself, my friends and the world around me. It negatively impacted my thoughts and tricked me into not doing things even when I wanted to. This poem is a very personal one, but I know it could resonate with other people going through something similar. Thankfully I do not feel like what is written down below – most of the time – because overthinking is  a challenge I face daily. But I have been blessed with people who have gave me the courage and determination to overcome this. I am – and probably will always be – a work in progress, but the love and support of old and current friends, my family and my psychotherapist surely made this process easier. If you’re going through anything similar and wish to seek help, I am not talk to someone trustworthy and/or seek help! Whether you’re diagnosed or not diagnosed with a mental health disorder, we all have moments were we feel way below rock bottom, and we would need someone to help us dig ourselves out of the rubble. And I know it’s a hard step to go seek help but it’s so worth it – because you are worth it! I have left some links below for Maltese readers if they wish to seek further help! Happy Reading xx 


People might assume that stopping over-thinking is just as easy
as pulling the fragile roots of a small flower from healthy soil.
But these thoughts are large thick deep roots which crawl as they toil through your head
branching out of earth from a stale heavy grounded mind.
They tie you and lock you down

whipping you stabbing you till you feel nothing, without feeling your own blood
escape from your veins, your true colours are now spilled out of your soul,
ending up with nothing but the dirty scum of your own pain taking over your numb heart.
Your lungs are filling up with the pressure of anxiety as it suffocates you so much you can’t even breathe fresh air because you feel choked up in guilt and resentment
The words stuck in your throat try their best to surface your tongue but your tongue feels so much pain it has lost how to explain these words you would die to say.
Your hands are nothing but bony sticks which long to be held by someone special
but that someone special will never arrive you say
you’re worthless you say
you’re way behind everyone else you say
you’re an ugly selfish brat you say
you’re hopeless you say
you can never do this you say
you’re always wrong you say
why am I doing this I tell myself
why can’t I stop these parasites from eating my dead functioning brain I tell myself
act upon it I tell myself
stop crying
stop being a drama queen
stop being a baby
stop crying
stop all this nonsense
but I can’t
STOP!

As my eyes continue to deaden out of tears
I look at my reflection. All I see is nothing but the fears
of a bruised boy looking girl staring back at me, without knowing what I want in my life
without knowing what to do in order to survive this permanent trap.
yes I know that by not helping myself no one will
yes I know that by being scared about everything won’t solve this
that giving a damn about every stupid thing will destroy me eventually
and yes I know that by over-thinking about how to stop this over-thinking won’t help either.
But tell me how can you have a fraction of hope when you believe that you’re good for nothing
when you find it very hard to accept all the positive remarks that people give you and keep the bad ones instead –
when even the greatest person in the world can come up to you and tell you that you’re the most amazing beautiful human being the entire universe has ever witnessed – and yet the reflection you see is a joke so hilarious it is now dead of laughter.

So next time you pass by, don’t be surprised if I reject you
it’s not because I want you to leave in the first place
but I’m actually protecting you from the horrible mess that is me. Marilyn.
And I know you will try your best to cut through these roots so you could have a taste of who I am.
But I won’t let you because I know that you all you will be tasting is poisoned bitterness
running through these roots which bruised my own hands, stung my stoned eyes and embarrassed my weak heart.
And I feel so bad that I’d rather spend eternity living in this damned world on my own
than see you spend a day here, because I don’t want to see you try so hard to pass through these roots so that eventually you’ll get bruised yourself. I care too much for you to see you get hurt for someone like me.

I am not worth the suffering of anyone in this world, let alone your own pain.
I will not be happy and no one will gain if you do so
because no one can save me.
Not even I am able to.
At least: that’s what I think.

16th April, 2014


Links of available services in Malta 

12 – To my Friends [a thank you note]

There are people in life who end up leaving you
And you don’t know when you’ll get to see them again
Sometimes, you don’t know if you’ll ever get to
But then there are others who check up on you,
even if you haven’t seen them in ages
and they are willing to sit down and listen
in spite of not understanding the way your mind works
and there are those willing get lost with you
in order to help you get back on track

Who are willing to step out of the periphery
so you don’t have to stand alone.

Remember, there are those who want to see you smile again.
And although you might be thankful for what the goners have left you,
the more you  should be thankful for those who remained
for they chose you above all the things you see wrong in yourself.

So, for those dear to me, near and far:
Know that there are people who broke me,
but your friendship is the glue keeping me together
no matter how many times I fall apart.
Thank you for choosing to stay.
Thank you for choosing me.


 

3 – The Wrong Side of Empathy [a poem]

I had a go at trying on your shoes to get a grasp
of your ways in managing to walk through life –
to gain a better insight into your perceptions, your feelings,
your methods of dealing with everything being thrown at you.

Now I’m learning that my feet continue to blister
since I became stuck in these shoes I’m growing out of
as they make my knees faint – yet I choose not to remove them.
My heart has been hooked to these shoe laces which I tied so forcefully
around my ankles and they make me tumble in useless worry for you.
Yet I still long to jump in pools of rain, grind through slime and mud,
crawl through weeds and thorns and climb rocky landslides
for the person you no longer are.

These knots which stifle my lower limbs have now shrunk
and it’s almost too futile to undo their strength and I’m struggling to let go.
But slowly they are loosening themselves, and so is my heart
as it remembers what it feels like to slip into a pair which fits me;
which suits me; which doesn’t weaken my knees nor bruise my feet
as I get through this rocky pathway life is unfolding ahead of me.

It’s now that I realise I should’ve never lost myself in your shoes
when you don’t even think about stopping for a second to seek mine.
It’s time to throw away the burdened closet of clogs
belonging to strangers I no longer talk to
and burn the sneakers and boots which others gave me
just because they ran out style – well I ran out of patience!

I shall kindly return your pair to your cobbler friends – ­
they’re full of holes and tatters and I have finally accepted
I cannot repair holes and tatters of those I once called mine.

I will ground myself firmly using my own two bare feet
amidst the presence of burnt skin and scarred toes
and allow earth’s soil to heal the wounds I’m unable to cure.
Let clouds of rain pour down to nourish my senses,
let bricks and stones trip me over and make me fall
I will finally let my hands to pick myself up and stand tall
by myself! For myself!