By Brandon Koebernik | Featured Contributor
Mom was schizophrenic.
Dad was bipolar.
What could I get from it?
I found out as I got older.
It started when I joined the military,
Army National Guard.
I don’t believe I was wary,
Of how things could get so hard.
A lot of time had passed.
I started noticing changes,
To the point where I wore a mask,
To hide all of the passing phases.
I’m fine, I’ll get over it.
Or so I thought.
So often I wanted to quit,
Stressful situations left me distraught.
I was depressed and angry,
Outbursts cost me friendships.
Seeking help wasn’t very manly,
So I kept taking the hits.
I woke up questioning myself,
What is my purpose?
Am I meant to rot on a shelf?
Why do I feel so worthless?
If you could weaponize tears,
I would’ve built an army.
I had nothing but fears,
Would my mind harm me?
I said enough was enough,
I had to take care of me.
I knew it would be rough,
But it was the road to safety.
I can’t say that I’m cured,
But I’m better than I was.
In many ways I’ve matured,
For therapy wasn’t a bust.
It helped clarify many things,
I now knew I had Bipolar Disorder.
This diagnosis gave me wings,
I was no longer leaning on the border.
I’ve been able to mitigate problems,
I’m now mindful of my emotions.
The stresses of life I’ve overcome,
Have put a lot of things in motion.
I no longer believe it was my fault,
Nothing I did caused me that pain.
I was a victim of a mind assault,
Courtesy of a chemical imbalance in my brain.
There is a moral to my story,
Seeking help may benefit you too.
You don’t have to feel sorry…
Someone will be there to love you.
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