Climbing My Way Out

It's much more difficult to be depressed as a grown-up.
It's not like when I was a kid and all I had to do was go to school
Go through the motions
Nod and say, "Yes ma'am; no sir;"
Trudge home from the bus stop and
Park on my bed
Stare at the ceiling until my mom starts screaming because
She's stuck with me -
Trapped in this house with nothing to do
Because she can't leave me alone.
Doctor's orders.

Some days, I'd much rather be dancing
At a bar in a club
Downtown
The band and the bass promising
I'll regret this tomorrow;
Wearing something inappropriate for a mother,
And the blood alcohol level to match.

As an adult, people expect more from you.
People expect you to care
To do more than just tune the world out.
Kids look to you for guidance
"Hold my hand; take me to the park; fix my boo-boo...."

There is no easy way out -
Always the sense of responsibility
Can't scream and cry because
My daughter will hear me
Can't run away 'cause
My conscience will eat me
Can't slit my wrists because
Someone will find me
Then everyone will see what's inside me, and
I won't be able to hide.

Climbing out of a depression is like
Trying to find a clean toilet in a club restroom
When all the stalls are full to overflowing,
There's a crowd, and someone's vomiting in the stall next to you.
You desperately search and finally find a toilet that's only moderately disgusting
You squat or hover and do your business as best you can until you realize
There's no toilet paper.
You search through your purse for a tissue but realize
It's your club purse, not your regular bag,
So, you find nothing and wind up dirty-
Tuck your skirt into your panties and
Go back to the bar for another shot.