Kate Lewington

mum doesn’t think depression exists
                                                 “it’s a state of mind, of attitude”

the realization that it has been this way 
for years –
patterns of behaviour 
embedded, and ingrained 
the long and lonely nights of 
meaningless sex, drunk 
and stumbling 
from one mistake to the next
the days after with no desire 
to remove yourself from your pit 
with the curtains shut 
and the audience gone, 
alone in stained, crumpled sheets 
smothered in the stink of sweat 
in the pores of clammy skin 
which you simply want to shed 
questions flock, 
and circle 
as if they were vultures
in a cycle of 
poacher turned gamekeeper 
the roulette of solutions 
loads every move
with risk – 
a phone call, appointment,
social interaction
the overwhelming sense of feeling soaring –
a fever  
when you want to shrink from sight 
and cut the ties
of people’s expectations 
hopelessly scrolling through social media websites 
until the battery on your phone 
ends with a buzz –
it is constant repetition 
the endless fields of time 
spent inept 
everyone is so successful
and you are here, waiting
trying to compose an ironic
i am depressed tweet 
like those popular accounts do 
but you just sound pathetic 
and understand 
no one gives a shit 
people will tell you otherwise, of course|

to reach out 
to help you try to gain perspective on the distortion of thinking 
fed to you by depression 
and then when it lifts, for a bit  
you work 
in a fast food outlet, meet friends
for drinks after, attend open mic nights, 
even call your mum each week 
as she asks you to
but you don’t
mum doesn’t think
depression exists
“it’s a state of mind, of attitude”
some weeks
to the outsider
it seems as if you are not even trying 
what is wrong with you 
if only you knew 
if only, if only
the hollowed emptiness 
feels as if it is something
you walk around with 
tasked with trying to fill it 
the ebb and flow of life 
we are born into 
is it that we begin life whole 
and over time 
we lose pieces of ourselves – 
and unable to renew, 
not taught how 
are robbed.

Kate writes with her own brand of poetic insights, based loosely on the subjects of belonging, loss, mental illness, and hope. You can read more snippets of her writing on her blog or in her book Here Comes the Sun. 


Twitter/Instagram: k_lpoetry