Not Supposed To Talk About It

Trying to find the gratitude

in this month of Thankful Thursdays

and Thanksgiving.

At the moment, I can’t.

Maybe just for the Wellbutrin

that gets me through one more day.

It helps me survive

but not quite thrive

in a daily life of

baskets of laundry—

we won’t have clean bath towels

unless I take on the load.

Spilled coffee on the counter

no one will wipe up

but me.

A family who won’t listen

when I ask them

to put their dishes in the sink

after they’ve eaten,

or take out the overflowing

bag of trash.

Swallowing happy pills does not mean

you become happy.

Not all illnesses

are visible.

Depression is the one

you’re not supposed

to talk about.