100,000 miles

May 10, 2017 ~ Our journey with mental illness has been both figurative and literal. It is 81 miles between home and the State Hospital, which adds up after two years of near-daily trips. It has been, in the true sense of the word, a journey. I started at 23,000 miles. Tonight, on the way home, the odometer rolled over (or rather, digitally transitioned) to 100,000 miles.

It's probably silly, but it felt like a moment to stop and mark.

I'm a fan of poetry - reading it, which I'm good at - and writing it, which I'm dreadful at. I don't write it for others to read - it's really just therapy for me. But I wrote this a few weeks ago, and felt it was a suitable way to mark the day.

The Miles of Mental Illness

My odometer ticks the miles - one by one by one,

South then north then south then north in a seemingly never-ending path

Back and forth. Back and forth.

I am nearing all nines turning to all zeroes, and I'm afraid I'll drive right past the tiny moment

And miss the celebration (a funny word to use) of the 100,000th mile

And 100,000th teardrop.

Cry me a river, they say.

But I've cried a whole highway,

Mile by mile, teardrop by teardrop.