I Bet You Don't Understand

I wrote this as a project for the mental health unit in my health class this year. This poem really hits home for me as I happen to know a thing or two about depression.

I bet you don't understand a type of sickness that is not defined

by runny noses, constant coughing and headaches.

I bet you don't understand a type of sickness that cannot be cured

by routine check-ups, medicines or a good night's sleep.

I bet you don't understand a type of sickness that is not

easily detected, pitied by others and is not sympathized 

with "get well soon" cards and flowers.

When you hear the word "illness"...

I bet you think of cancer, or aids,

or any other physically destroying diseases...

I bet you don't understand that brains can get sick, too.

I bet you don't understand the type of sickness characterized by

drowning in emotions, poor self-image and lack of motivation.

I bet you don't understand the type of sickness where

it's possible to never be alone, but always feel lonely.

I bet you don't understand the type of sickness where your brain

is screaming for help, but your mouth just cannot

comprehend the words to ask for it.

I bet you don't understand that brains need professional help, too.

I bet you don't understand that depression is psychological 

because it is a war within your mind.

I bet you don't understand what it's like to be

your own worst enemy, biggest critic and a bully to yourself.

I bet you don't understand that depression can become physical

because it will create tired, sulking eyes and fragile bones

and stress will hug you tightly like a sweater.

I bet you don't understand that brains suffer greatly, too.

I bet you don't understand that people do not wish you well

when you are depressed.

I bet you don't understand that people do not pat your forehead

and pray that your brain pulls through.

I bet you don't understand that people do not check up on you

every so often, to see if you're hanging in there,

unlike they would if you had been suffering from a physical disease.

I bet you don't understand that brains crave attention, too.

I bet you don't understand that depression is not considered,

unless, and until you suffer with it.

I bet you don't understand what it feels like

to have your brain feel bed ridden.

I bet you don't understand how it feels

to have life destroy you from the inside out,

because you don't understand being clinically depressed.

And oh God, I hope you never understand.

M.K.T