Walk About a Bit

Cherry

By Bee

Wed, 01 Apr 2015
  • 7988 reads
21 comments
 

I walk about without a destination. 
Back and forth, to and fro - one wall
to the other, the other and the other 
in this grey box devoid of windows.

Slam my palms against the doors, closed 
between two floors, worrying
about breathing. Desperate, now unimportant 
to keep going for some reason, but
forced  beyond will, I overdo it till fit to faint.

The voice on my intercom assures 
but doesn't reassure me,
that I will not have to wait that long 
in this oppressive hole because rescue 
is on the way. Am I ok? No..!

I screech as the walls come closing in;
lungs dry-tight, the air's too thin. Get me 
out of here now - Please !
I'm hyperventilating in this vacuum.
Keep talking, says my someone.

I've stopped talking, 
stopped walking - 
sunk to my haunches 
forehead on knees - 
in tears -
I've been stuck in here for years, shivering 
with sweat, when with a judder, suddenly,
I'm sinking, 
thinking
this must be the end -
the final drop 
before my body's
pulverised to meaty vomit on this grimy floor. 

The doors break open to glorious daylight. 
My legs too weak to walk, shake as someone 
else helps me out. Smiling, for some reason. 
Laughing. Giddy with delight, I ask, how long 
was I in there for, a million years, or more...?
Three minutes - that's all. Claustrophobia?
No - bipolar.

Certificate 15
Poem
Unclassified

Comments

Submitted by Philip Sidney on

An every day nightmare. I felt the terror.

Submitted by Bee on

Thanks Philip.

Bee

Submitted by tibi popovici on

Such a complex and terific moment, short in time, but long enough for a disorder that consumes many of us.

Submitted by Bee on

Thanks tibi.

Bee

Submitted by luigi_pagano on

Three long minutes. An agonising length of time to terrify anyone. I felt the tension.

Luigi x

 

Submitted by Bee on

Glad you felt it, Luigi. One of my biggest fears - to be stuck in a lift. Hasn't happened yet - I avoid them as much as humanly possible and never get in a crowded one, much to the annoyance of those with me who don't mind going in. 

X

Bee

Submitted by Rhiannonw on

When it happened to me as a student, my first nervousness was about having to press the emergency button, and then feeling a fool being talked to, but the shock  was how few inches I found I had been from the proper place when they eventually got it moving. You portrayed the feelings here so well that many would share, and for a variety of reasons probably (and an interesting photo). Rhiannon

 

Submitted by Bee on

Thanks Rhiannon. I liked your story. Funny the things we worry about. Some of it funny after. 

Bee

Submitted by Geoff Smith on

Funny at the end. Someone drove their van into my bicycle last year (no injuries) and I think the poor bloke had no idea how to react to my weird post crash elation. We're queer beasts aren't we?

I really like the poem - I think it's one to come back to in six months and maybe rework into some kind of extra metaphor if that makes sense.

Thanks for reading. I am grateful for your time.

Submitted by Bee on

Hi Geoff. Stepping back from work and getting back to it later is often so productive. I think that's a good idea. Thank you. And I totally get your reaction after your bike accident. Thank goodness no injuries, though.

Bee

Submitted by Bee on

Dear Editor,

thank you for reading - and for the cheering cherries.

x

Bee

Submitted by skinner_jennifer on

Oh! Bee, you know I can't imagine what bipolar is like, but I suffer terribly with claustrophobia, could understand how three minutes seemed like a million years.

I always try to avoid lifts and would rather take the stairs. You summed up the feelings brilliantly in this poem. Thank goodness for daylight and freshair. Phew!

Jenny.

 

Submitted by Bee on

Claustrophobia is a terrible thing, Jenny. Inconvenient , at best, and at times totally incapacitating. Glad I'm not alone. Thank you. 

Bee

Submitted by catherine poarch on

Real nightmare words, well written. I didn't guess the end and then of course had to go back and reread. I felt the thing about keep talking was very strong, that thing that keeps your mind above the water, to use words, communicate, reason with yourself.

 

Submitted by Bee on

Hi Catherine. Thanks for putting so much thought into this - and for your wise comments, which were spot on. 

Bee

Submitted by jeand on

Hi Bee

Your portray your fear and anxiety very well.

When I started reading this, I didn't think about lifts - which I have no trouble with. I thought about whole body counters - which were new when I worked as a dietitian about 40 years ago. My job was to interview the patients who were put through the machine - which moved slowly through which must have seemed like a coffin to them - a tiny enclosed space for what was probably 30 minutes or more - not being able to move. And it was all for research - although I'm sure many of them thought it was a diagnositic tool or a form of treatment. My job was to analyse their diets and find out how much potassium that had consumed, and the machine showed their stores and useage of the mineral, I suppose. Nowdays, scanners are quite common, and I've had one to see if my knee was sufficient arthritic to justify a knee replacement (it wasn't) but it certainly was a very clostraphobic experience.

Jean

Jean Day

Submitted by Bee on

Hi Jean.

You've described one of my worse nightmare. Fascinating job, though. Thanks so much for reading - and for your comments.

Bee

Submitted by jeand on

No it was an awful job. I just hated watching those poor old people go through the machine - they were so scared.

Happy Easter.

Jean

Jean Day

Submitted by Ed Crane on

Just catching up, with this excellent graphic description of a panic attack. I think I am lucky in that it is something I find difficult to comprehend since I guess I am rather laid back in some ways (which annoys some of those close to me). However, I know I have a short coming over this since I find people going into or being afraid of a panic attack very annoying -- it's wrong but I can't help it.blush

sorry

Ed x

 

Submitted by Bee on

Hi Ed. 

Yes, you are lucky. It's difficult to understand what we don't actually experience. I do get panic attacks and so I know how they work for some, and how they feel for many. I've been talking to a someone who suffers with bipolar disorder, and from how they described so many aspects of what they go through at times, I came up with the above, which I hadn't intended to be taken just literally. Don't be sorry - your feedback was great and made me realize I perhaps got the writing all wrong. Might have another go later.

Thanks - much appreciated.

x

Bee

Submitted by Ed Crane on

I am missing your lovely poems and stories! I hope youare OK

Ed x