Slow Crisis

by Rachel Gearinger

The roofer drops a yellow cord into the tree
& I think about soaking in bleach

Last night, I had to convince my brain
everything’s alright
A regular occurrence
unlike pouring a cup of coffee

Something fell from me,
and I haven’t reached down to pick it up,

or maybe I can’t reach
anymore, maybe my arms
aren’t strong enough

I am the girl sobbing,
mouth gaping, snot bubbling;

Look at me. Memorize this face.
Peer into my mouth and see
what I am made of

cracking eggshells
crashing down

I am messy and uncertain,
but I am real

Change happens more often than not
and no one stops to ask
how tiring it is

I am the one you heard
on the news, in passing
headlines screaming

Terrified of dreams
that can’t be deciphered,
that feel more real than reality

One thing is not like the other,
they say to my face or
behind a keyboard

Each word a pinprick
& soon I start to see
through the holes in my skin

Apologies fall from my mouth
like rotten food
no one wants to see

There is an unmistakable metallic smell,
menstrual blood or iron bars
and a fine line between normal and insane

I lay in the bath tub
and turn on the hot water until it hurts

Falling feels like becoming
someone completely different

All I ask is:
Be quiet and hold me
Just let me feel it.


Rachel is a freelance writer, public health student, and mental health advocate. She writes a blog called This Wild Mind. She volunteers with her local affiliate of the National Alliance on Mental Illness as the webmaster and a presenter for the Ending the Silence program. Her favorite hobbies are riding horses, singing, and writing poetry.


2 thoughts on “Slow Crisis”

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s