Don't call me names

When I told you -
I could see you looking at me,
Scanning my face for 'evidence'
As if my illness can be seen.
And when I said I was an artist -
"Oh! That was it!"
"The mad artist!"
"The artistic temperament"
"Of course!"
And you asked me:
"In what way do you get distressed?
What happens?"
Curious
No comprehension of my shame
No sensitivity to my difficulty
with labels.
Labels don't describe me
I felt you wanting to narrow me down
Fit me in to a preconceived idea
Of what this or that might mean
Like if I told you I was a Gemini
"Oh that explains madness as well though,
doesn't it?
Two sided, unpredictable, mood swings"

"Chronic overstimulation"
One Psychiatrist said.
Dr. Wareing.
He wasn't wearing. I hope I wasn't to him.
Dr. Green used to see me every week.
I drew him a card when he left
He gave me a plant. It died.
Green to Brown
I still worry that the card exposed too much of me
Made him think something I didn't intend
It was naked bodies
It's just what I draw!
What does that mean?

Why this fear of exposure?
My struggles a dreadful secret
Locked behind my front door
The unsafety of home alone
The traps of staying in
The fear of going home

If I tell you Psychiatric words
It will be me inviting you to see me as them
You will tip toe around me
You will ask more insensitive questions
If I tell you how sometimes my life gets very difficult
And things get out of control and
in a strange perspective
And that I get over exuberant and excited and energetic sometimes
And that I've made my own hell
And that some days I can't do anything
And other days I do everything
And other times I'm on a rollercoaster
Inside
Then are you still guessing
At my label?
Trying to pigeonhole me?

"Dont' be so silly". You'd say
"Pull yourself together" You'd think
"But this.. but that "you'd say
"You're just self indulgent"
"You're exaggerating"
"You want to be 'different' by being 'ill'"
You'd think
"You create it for yourself"
"It's your fault"
Or, worse:
"Poor little you"
and you'd smother and stifle me
Eugh.

We all judge each other.
I judge you
And I can see your neurosis
And I can see
That we all have our own fucked up ways of coping
You have yours and I have mine
And I have moods which I have to cope with, too
My notch has been turned up.
We are not so different though -
You and I
I am still human.

Perhaps you are on a merry go round
Whilst I am drunk, full bellied on a rollercoaster,
Or perhaps you just haven't told anybody about that
Or perhaps your rollercoaster is better oiled and more comfortable
Somehow?

Don't make me feel inadequate
Or a freak.
I am a person
I am a professional.
I am lots of things
and sometimes, I am mental!
Yes, I see a Psychiatrist
she has the name of a pop star
And I have a Psychotherapist
she reminds me of who I am!
And I've been to a specialist centre
And I go to a support group sometimes
Because at my end of the continuum
is distress
and disruption
and I manage myself this way
very well
thank you
And I forgive your curiosity
But just let me be, eh?
Don't make assumptions about me
Or call me names.
All I need from you is space
to be myself
and maybe some patience