CRACKING UP

“Hey, your nervous breakdown is interesting. You should write about it.” Regan Burke, Back Story Essays

I find it interesting that the phrase “cracking up” is used to describe both bursting into laughter and suffering an emotional breakdown under pressure.  I’ve done both and find no similarity whatsoever. The first, with its release of endorphins, feels great. The second is hell. 

I’m not going into details about my journey to and back from the brink. Those of you who know me well already know the story. I’ll only say that, in the short haul it was horrendous, but taking the long view, it’s the best thing that ever happened to me. It changed me forever. I would not be here in Traverse City, writing this now, but for those changes. 

When I started writing poetry seriously, it was a means of healing. I guess in a way it always will be, although now I do it because I really enjoy it and not only as catharsis.  

Today’s poem was originally written in 2012 in the throes of turmoil. I sometimes shudder when I realize how fragile I was then. 

I’m publishing this piece not to garner sympathy. I’m doing it to cast a light on how hidden someone’s pain can be and as a reminder that we all need to pay more attention to those in our lives who might be in need...a reminder to really listen. 

ANATOMY OF A NERVOUS BREAKDOWN

For years, I warned -

“It’s coming.”

I feel fissures and faults 

crumbling and rumbling within,

broken shards breaching the air

…but no one listened.

I said, “It’s coming, you know.

It is way overdue.”

Stress cannot be borne forever.

A rupture is in the offing,

deep inside the shell 

where my life resides,

where must do, have to, 

busyness presides

…but no one listened.

Occasionally, a tremor rattled,

a precursor to disaster -

an erratic movement, 

an unstable moment, 

unveiling the hidden schisms,

ripping at my unraveling core, 

but these temblors were easily ignored, chalked up to imagination

…and no one listened.

Then, with exquisite power,

the cataclysm struck deep. 

Somehow unexpected,

despite all the warnings. Those cracks grew to chasms as

I silently slipped into chaos.

As I was grasping for shelter,

and muffled screams began

to rise within me

…still no one listened.

Then, as the terrifying tumult tore my earth

apart. I smoldered and smothered in

suffocating terror. Weary, wary, and tearful,

tumbling, stumbling, alone in humbling

darkness, I found a glimmer and I whispered,

“I am in here. Please help me.”

…and, at last, someone listened.