How Crazy Am I?

Art by Maranda Russell

*I wrote this fun little poem while sitting at Burger King, eating my hamburger and onion rings. It just kind of “came” to me lol. It is meant to be cynically humorous, hopefully it is.

How Crazy Am I?

I don’t know
a 10?
Nah…
I ain’t THAT fucking
insane.

A 9?
Well, I’m not
quite drooling
on myself yet…
at least not
on a regular basis.

An 8?
That sounds about
right, but
over the years
I’ve learned
if something sounds right
it almost never is.

7?
Lucky seven?
I sure ain’t
been lucky
in this life,
or any other.

6?
Sure, let’s just
settle on six.
Because really,
who gives a shit
anyhow?
And I’m tired
of counting.

– Art and Poetry by Maranda Russell

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Time Flies Mixed Media Collage

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“Time flies” is an expression we often hear, and there may be some truth to it, especially when it comes to “time flies when you’re having fun”. I’ve noticed time doesn’t fly nearly as much if you are depressed or in pain, which is unfortunate, since that is the time it would be best for time to pass swiftly. Just another little unfair quirk of reality. However, I am thankful for the times that do run as swift as a flooded river, because the memories of those good times help get me through the days when time crawls by like a wounded caterpillar. In appreciation of those good times, I created the above little mixed media collage ACEO artwork and thought I would share it with all of you.

At the Crossroads

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You string me along
like floss
then toss me away
like a song.
You want me
only when it’s
convenient –
when your pastel
world loses
color and you
need me to
brighten the walls.

But now I see
your game –
I’m wise to your
disguise.
Not afraid to
walk away, I
leave you at
the crossroads
facing your own
demise.

~ Art & Poetry by Maranda Russell

Blah Painting for a Blah Day

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Kind of a blah, muddled painting for a blah, muddled day. Just not feeling it today…any of it. Really tempted to go back to bed, but I already slept 11 hours or so. I can always tell when I’m super depressed because I sleep A LOT. The normal 8 hours of sleep becomes 12 hours a night. And even then, I want to sleep all day too, I just try not to allow myself. I always did like that joke about how being “super depressed” is just like being “regular depressed”, except that for “super depression” you wear a cape. I need a cape.

Bad Depression

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I’ve been really struggling with depression lately. And I mean really struggling. Like, can’t get out of bed struggling. Like sleeping more than half the day struggling. Even when I do finally get out of bed, I often find myself back in bed soon after, lying there staring at the wall and the ceiling for unlimited amounts of time. I do still have an appetite at least, but I think a lot of that is the meds, which make me hungry almost all the time. Of course, sometimes with depression I do tend to comfort eat as well. So along with the desire to do absolutely nothing, I am also plagued with anxiety about gaining weight from being hungry all the time. I don’t see the doctor again until the day after Christmas, so I am just having to muddle through the best I can, but it is really hard. I feel like I am constantly fighting just to function at all. Even washing my hair or brushing my teeth seems too much for me most of the time and I have to force myself to do it. This level of lethargy is ridiculous, and sometimes I wonder how I’m alive at all.

Suicidal Ideations

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*Note: I wrote this a while back and am not currently feeling suicidal, but I thought it might be interesting to share this poem as it does illustrate a real mental struggle I have dealt with on and off for many years.

Suicidal Ideations

If I only had a dollar
for every time
I have looked down
from a great height,
shook a full bottle of pills,
held my breath under water,
or inhaled exhaust fumes
while thinking

I could actually do it,
I could end it all –

I would have more
than enough
to pay for all the
therapy sessions
I obviously need.

People Who Look Down on You for Mental Illness

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Sometimes I’ve worried about being so open about my own mental illnesses and specifically, my struggles with depression, anxiety, and suicidal thoughts. There is a part of me that absolutely know that there are a few narrow-minded people who probably read my posts (if they even bother) and then feel superior or like there is something wrong with me because I have these struggles. Some of these people are even distantly related to me in one way or another. I can see them being gleefully smug, shaking their heads and thinking people like me make all this up for attention or just don’t want to be working members of society. I can hear the Fox News points they would reiterate right now.

So, knowing that is likely going on behind my back, why do I even bother? Because I want to be genuine and real. I want to be me. I want to be honest. I want to help others feel less alone. And I figure if those people mocking me weren’t too narcissistic or proud to seek help, a psychiatrist or psychologist would have a field day with them anyhow! After all, who is the worst person? The person that has real struggles and issues and admits to them and works on them, or the person who thinks they are better than everyone else and has to gossip behind other peoples’ backs to feel better about themselves?