MENTAL ILLNESS AND RECOVERY: A SERIES OF POEMS by Victoria E. Molta

Different Interpretations

Someone is outside enjoying the day when suddenly a strong wind begins to
blow.

Dust lifts off from the ground and flies around in a circular motion. A piece
of paper rises effortlessly, weightlessly and he is entertained by the dust and
the paper that are engaged in a swirling dance.

But under similar circumstances, I see this force of nature magnified a
thousand fold.

I am caught in the throes of a devastating tornado. My hands are torn away
from a tree trunk I've grasped onto; I am violently uprooted from the ground and
find myself tossing and tumbling about. I am helpless, a victim to nature's brutal fury.

To one person, life is a dance with everything moving purposefully and
gracefully.

But to me, life is a battle I have to contend with on a daily basis.

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Being Reminded of the Illness

Every morning and evening, I am reminded of the fact that I have a mental
illness when I take the pills that help to control my symptoms.

Journeying through life is like walking down a circular road. No matter how
far I think I've gone, I come across the same deep, jagged hole again and again that
serves as a symbol for my mental illness.

There is no end in sight. It goes on and on.

My disease is like a scar from a wound, leaving me marked for life.

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The Inward Battle
 
Today, I looked out my window and saw a flock of birds fly by. They appeared
like a troop of soldiers moving forward, fearlessly determined to reach their
destination, the battlefield.

I saw a stray bird lag behind and it represented a soldier
separated from the pack, hoping to avoid conflict.

When I am well and strong, I boldly venture forth ready to face challenges
like the flock of birds flying in synchronous motions, the soldiers marching in
unison. But the battles that occur from within during episodes of mental illness are
overwhelming and powerful.

My mind is my greatest foe. I am reluctant to fight and am like the stray bird lagging behind. How I yearn to seek refuge within a corner of my mind, deep within
my soul where I can curl up and feel protected always.

The birds have passed by me overhead and disappear beyond the horizon, for
now.

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Psychosis

A small child rides her bicycle down a strange street in her neighborhood. Suddenly,
a ferocious dog darts out from nowhere and snarls and snaps at her ankles as
she furtively pedals away as fast as she can.

I am that small child and the foreign street is a murky life passage I am
traveling down.

Psychosis is the vicious dog and there have been times when I have
narrowly squeaked past its menacing growls before becoming shredded to bits and pieces.

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HOPE AND RECOVERY: From Darkness To Light, From Turmoil To Serenity

For years, I retreated from the world by living within the deep recesses of
my mind.

I was like a frightened dog cowering in the darkness of a cave trying to
avoid the sunlight because it was too searing. Now, I see the light in a different way.
It appears warm and inviting, beckoning to me to come out of my cave in the forms of people's hands reaching out for me.

I emerge from the darkness into the light.

For a long time, the world to me was like the wild sea. It was a dangerous,
threatening place. The world rushed in like ocean waves washing onto the sand dunes of my mind.

I was pulled in and dragged down to the bottom where creatures scuttled along
the ocean floor. But, miraculously, I didn't die.

Beneath the surface, I glided along and stillness engulfed me. Just then, I had a vision that the stillness was just like deeply felt serenity within one's soul.

I sprang up from the sea and breathed in the cool, salt air; alive and renewed.

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Like A Gazelle

I journey through life like a gazelle striding gracefully across smooth,
level terrain. But, a gazelle has a great deal of skill and its maneuvers look much easier than they really are.

To begin with, the terrain isn't as smooth as it appears from afar. On close inspection, it is riddled with rocks and if the gazelle doesn't look down and concentrate on small steps as well as giant leaps, it will stumble.

It is very easy to get tripped up by the small stuff. The gazelle has to look around to keep in line with other gazelles as well as to defensively avoid predators.

At the same time, it must be able to look ahead and have a sense of direction.

I exert the same degree of concentration as the gazelle. I look down at every
step I make in order to avoid stumbling over obstacles. I look around me and
acknowledge my friends and foes.

And, I look ahead of me so I know where I am going on this journey through life.

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Two Emotional Extremes

Despair is like living behind the bars of a prison cell.

The cinder block walls are a dingy gray that reflect the lifelessness within the windowless box except for a black fly that has found its way in and has landed on my arm.

How I yearn for the relief of a cool breeze wafting through an open window. How I miss waking up to the light of an early morning sun streaming through the clear, glass panes.

I am locked in a dismal cage and I miss my freedom.

Bliss is like living in an ornate palace with a library filled with books
that delight and inspire me. Animals wander freely through rooms that contain lush green plants. The walls are gilded and windows are open wide allowing for glimpses of delicate trees decorated with pink and white cherry blossoms that are inhabited by singing birds.

On this cool, sunny spring morning, brightly colored tulips and daffodils are
scattered in a dew-coated meadow that stretches out to meet the edge of an expansive, royal blue sea.

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Marveling At The Inner And Outer Universe

Darkness and light complement each other and go hand in hand just as the
universe outside myself parallels the universe within my mind.

Without darkness, one would not appreciate the light.

At night, the universe is black except for stars that pop through,
illuminating and accenting the void, like insights shining through the obscure mystery of my mind.

Finding a solution to a problem is like reaching for the stars.

I think of a glowing, fluorescent moon that reflects a high degree of light amidst the darkness that surrounds it, and it reminds me of brightness and brilliance that rise from the mind, sharp and piercing.

From the dark night of the soul comes light in the forms of joy and peace.

Victoria Molta has been a writer and poet for over twenty years. A survivor of mental illness, she has advocated throughout Connecticut to improve the lives of others suffering from mental illness. Her work has been published in several national journals and web sites and she has read her poetry over a local cable television show as well as a Connecticut radio program. She has recently finished a manuscript of her work on living with mental illness and recovery as a spiritual journey. Contact Victoria at 346 Greene Street, New Haven, CT 06511, (203)772-1332, vmolta@aol.com

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