ORIGINAL POEM // PILLS
#mentalhealthawareness
My mother told me
that I was evil for whatever in the hell
my eight year old self said or did.
And my mother told me
that she told the doctors
All about the things I did.
My mother told me
to take these pills.
She handed them to me,
big and white.
My mother said
she found me a doctor
to prescribe me
...better health?
I asked my mother
If health could be prescribed?
My mother did not answer
Because she did not respond
to back talking sons of bitches.
It is like my mother always said;
for me, she always wanted the best.
My mother said
She knew best.
My mother said
these pills would cure me
of not cutting it out.
My mother told me
that medical control
was all the good kind of rage
these days.
And it’s like my mother always said,
“when you couldn’t spank it out of them
— get them hooked on drugs early.”
Or I guess,
it went
something
like that.
My mother told me
that the earlier the detection,
the better.
And my mother told me
she should have taken me
to the doctors —
sooner.
And now it’s later.
I wanted to tell my mother,
I felt so behind at nine.
My mother handed me
those pill every morning
before elementary school.
My mother told me
that the doctor said
I could not miss a single day.
My mother gave me
my pills with a ceramic mug filled
with hand-pressed orange juice.
My mother told me
that this is the future of healthcare.
and my mother told me
that I should be grateful
My mother told me
I should thank my father
who could afford
my many many many
psychiatric appointments.
My mother told me
she raised me right.
My mother told me
she raised me to be polite.
My mother told me
it was all so normal.
My mother only implied
I was so abnormal.
and my mother told me,
a pill popping eleven year old
was exactly what the pediatrician ordered
-- for my continued childish antics.
My mother told me
that he was a doctor
and that meant
he knew all about
“these problems”
that I was having.
My mother told me
that there is
no guesswork
in the diagnosis
of the mind
of a child
through the lens
and verbiage
of the stressed-out parents.
My mother told me
that her marriage
with my father
was just fine.
My mother implied
That I should stuff
Those earful of emotions
When I had a temper tantrum
At ten years old.
My mother told me
These excess emotions
Should be expressed
To a therapist only.
My mother took
Me to a therapist
So this lady could
To talk some sense into me.
My mother asked me
Which house I wanted to live at
Just incase she moved.
My mother told me
to trust the doctors
that gave me these medicines.
My mother told me
these doctors helped her
mother, better.
My mother told me
that there is no downside
in blindly trusting authority.
My mother told me to
Stop fitting in
And just doing
what my friend do.
My mother warned me about
being led astray.
My mother snooped in my diaries
to read about all the bad things
I was up to.
My father read my online history
with spyware to check up
on all the boys
I was talking to.
My mother said
that they needed to share
all this stuff with the doctor
They hired
To help me.
My mother called me
A boundary breaker
for borrowing her lipstick.
My mother told me
I should have asked.
My mother told me
they couldn’t talk to me.
My mother told me
She’d talked about this
With me
A million billion times
Already.
My mother told me
To use less tone.
My mother told me
I was violating her privacy
By asking her those
Personal questions about her life.
My mother told me
I didn’t know her.
My mother told me
that I couldn’t use this
mental brain label diagnosis thing
the one that she told me about
as an excuse for my horrible behavior.
My mother told me
to say I was sorry.
I said sorry.
My mother said
that I needed to take more
personal responsibility.
My mother told me
I should not feel anger towards her.
So I buried my inner rage.
With a smile, of course.
I just wrote about it
Instead of bringing it to
Her face.
My mother told me
I had a good childhood.
My mother told me
I grew up in a good home.
My mother told me
to stuff my emotions like all the
good twelve year old girls do.
My mother told me
To be a good girl.
My mother told me
that my bad behavior
wasn’t on her.
My mother told me
not to blame her.
My mother told me
this diagnosis
was not her fault.
My mother told me
I needed to stop
badgering her.
My mother told me
To get off the merry-go-round.
My mother told me
To stop stirring the pot.
My mother told me
She smelled something burning
In the kitchen.
My mother asked me
Why I stopped stirring the pot?
My mother said
it was all due to my genetic makeup
And all these thing I cannot control.
My mother told me
this is just the luck of the draw.
My mother told me
to take my pills, sweetly.
My mother told me
that I was just naturally bad.
My mother told me
It was okay to be broken and bruised
As long as you looked like
A peach.
My mother told me
that virgins were like roses.
My mother told me that sex
stained the purity robe
that Jesus gave me at birth.
My father told me
that he had a zero-tolerance policy
for teenage sexuality.
My mother told me
to pray that Jesus would save me.
The doctor told me
that this bad behavior a had label.
The doctor told me
only the drug companies
had the solution for it.
My mother peed herself as she sang
— oh thank the baby lord god above who sits in heaven.
My mother told me
she prayed to Jesus
that he would save me
from my sins
Of future sex
And future weed.
My mother said
Those people
who use drugs
Are self medicating.
And the pharmacy
Doesn’t get paid
For that.
I started screaming
That maybe I was just a moody pre-teen?
The doctor told me
that this simple diagnosis
will create a profit rippling
throughout the entire industry!
My father told him
that he could surely afford that.
The doctor told me
all about this flaw
that could be seen so clearly
by my parents
but not by me.
My mother told me
it was a sustained daily low dose
so I should shove my cares aside.
My mother told me
I should be grateful
that my father had so much money
that he could afford
these kinds of
uninsured
medical bills.
My mother told me
to thank the lord I was not poor
My mother told me
to thank my father
for that country club
birthday party
that he threw for me
that one summer.
My mother told me
I was not an easy thirteen year old.
My mother told me
I talked back and had a mind of my own.
My mother told me
I must be mad
for being mad at her.
My mother told me
she did not like this behavior in me.
My mother told me
That even though
she didn’t like me
She loved me.
My mother told me
that my behavior
reminded her of a demon.
My mother asked me
why my sister seemed to obey?
My mother told me
that most little girls
don’t get this kind of help.
My mother told me
she was sad that I grew up.
My mother told me
to eat my food up
because of the starving children
from Africa -- they are dying.
My mother told me
the doctor was a good man
and I should trust him
because she had a good feeling
about this new pill.
My mother told me
street drugs were bad.
I questioned the doctor
"is all of this necessary?"
The doctor told me
that buying these pills
was the only solution
for the problem,
that thing my parents saw in me.
The doctor cut me off
when I asked to get off those pills
the ones he was prescribing me.
My mother told me
that I was but a child
and slapped me for challenging
that wonderful educated man.
My mother asked me
who I thought I was?
I tried to tell her --
I was just a child
before she accused me
of "getting lippy".
My mother told the doctors
all about my defiance which proved
this oppositional disorder more.
And the doctor told me
they would up my meds
because of this incident.
My mother told me
There were consequences
For children who didn’t
sit down and hush up.
My mother accused me
of smoking weed.
My mother told me
never to use drugs!
My mother read my diaries
Where I talked about smoking weed.
My mother said
She knew before
she even read about it.
My mother told me
that it was a common symptom:
the mentally ill do not want their meds.
My mother never mentioned
To me —
My diary entries before
Scheduling an appointment
Conveniently.
My father said
They met with the doctor
Secretly and without me.
My mother said
there was no such thing
as coincidences
only Godwinks.
My mother told me
she liked me better drugged up.
My mother told the doctors
I looked happier
when I was taking them.
My mother told me
to shut the hell up
because of this thing
— called science.
My mother said that
I didn’t have any clue
about myself.
My father said
He knew me best.
My mother said
she knew my fourteen-year-old
ass better
Than any guy
She read me dreaming about.
My mother said
She could smell my secrets.
My mother told me
She saw sadness in my eyes.
My mother told the doctor
She saw sadness in my eyes.
My mother told me
that these pills would fix me.
My mother told me that
my behavior was NOT
a product of bad parenting;
she’d have my head for that.
My father told the doctors
he would do whatever
to strangle that rebellion
He would punish it
Right out of me.
My father told me
he was a good father
Protective.
My mother told the doctors
that she would never
let me curse again
— even if I had to wait
till my father got home
so he could beat
those hellish words
right the heck out of me.
My mother generously gave me
till the count of three to obey.
And if it went past four
she’d stick the hounds on me.
You see.
My mother said
I was not to back talk
the doctor or anyone else
For that matter.
My mother told me
and I was not to question authority.
My mother said
I had the brains of a dysfunctional child
and that Jesus just wanted my innocence.
My mother said
I was not to question her.
My mother prayed with me
every single night.
My mother slept
In my bed
if I was scared at night.
My mother said
she cried thinking
about her fifteen-year-old
going to hell.
My mother said
She read my diaries again
After reading my friends
Birthday card.
My mother said
I could only question my father
when she was mad at him.
Otherwise, they stood as a united front
They were like the Nixon administration ...during watergate.
My mother told me
that she was from a good family
So I should act like it
Dammit!
My mother told me
that time had eaten her baby alive
and all she was left with was just me.
My father called my extra energy
a frontal lobe impairment;
even when there was no MRI proof.
He was a dentist
So I thought he knew,
all about the brain stuff.
My parents said
they saw red flags at stop signs.
The doctor recommended
My parents to send me away.
The doctor told them
What else could you do?
Or take away?
My mother said
she wasn’t sorry
That she sent her
sixteen-year-old away
She’d do it again
If inconvenienced.
My mother said
I should be grateful
to be raised in asylums
“There were worse places one could be”
My mother said
that I was luckily my father could pay
I told my mother — a judge would have NEVER sentenced me for three years to for-profit treatment centers.
For sex.
And weed.
All ripped from the pages
Of my diaries.
My mother said
she did all this
because she wanted me
to love myself more.
My mother said
she followed all the advice
from all the experts
right down to the T.
My mother told me
she was a perfectionist, you see.
And when I cried outloud
that my parents might have
munchousen by proxy
my mother said
she didn’t believe
a single word that I said.
My mother said
I was manipulative
And when it’s my word against theirs
— who would ever trust me?
My mother sent a package
to my place I was to stay,
2,000 miles away.
My mother addressed it
from my loving parents
who don’t want anything
but the best for me.
My mother called me
on Christmas
to tell me
that she loved me.
My mother told me that
She would not come
and pick me up.
And that was that.
My mother told me
She would not be
manipulated like that.
My mother told me
to just accept the fact
that she didn't want me.
But she loved me.
My father said
he loved and missed me too.
My mother said
she would not be so fooled
by those crocodile tears
when I said I was happier at home.
My mother said
she knew how I worked.
My mother told my sister
she found a glass vile in my bathroom
and suspected it was once full of cocaine.
My sister told
Her friends who told
the entire school.
When I had just smoked weed;
My parents believed me to be on more.
But that’s okay
Because my mother told me
To nevermind about those rumors.
They started about me.
My mother told me
I was born bad
and there wasn’t
anything else
left she could do.
My mother told me
I was in the best hands
In far far away lands.
My father sent me a book
about a girl who got hooked on heroin.
And when I told him
I only smoked cannabis
My father told me
She reminded him of me
That dead girl kept a diary too.
And that’s really the key.
My father said
I was going down a bad road
of just blindly trusting my “friends”.
My father told me
that it always scared him
how badly I wanted to fit in.
My father called me
To tell me he
Filed for divorce.
My mother told me
to just let go of all of the crazy making
and just take my cocktail of fucking meds
just to do like the doctor says.
My mother told me
that listening to the doctors
would take all my pain away.
My mother told me
all she wanted for me was peace.
My mother told me
all these pills were going to help me;
My mother told me
these pills were going to save me;
My mother told me
these pills were going to heal me;
Mother, I did not ask for a savior.
Mother, I did not asked to be saved.
I told my mother
I never asked for
Any of this.
Especially not
That freshly prescribed
— pharmaceutical babysitter
Written by the doctors
And the people
Who knew me best.