I fell asleep last night
while watching Criminal Minds reruns.
If I didn’t have anywhere to be today
I wouldn’t have gotten up, taken a bath,
and stopped short my TV series marathon.
My husband didn’t want me to watch Criminal Minds.
He believes the episodes are not help me
cope with the mental illness that have been
plaguing me since I was young and which
has gone worse lately.
I think he’s wrong.
For me, watching Criminal Minds
help me understand myself better.
When I watch, psychopaths kill their victims
in ways, worse than you and I could ever imagine,
I begin to learn how I could never be like these people.
I can see that I am way better than them.
I see how I am better at holding on to my impulses.
I am stronger than they are.
See, when I began feeling unstable,
when I felt like I could no longer get a grip
on the things that come to my mind,
when slitting throats and pulsating wrists
begging to be slashed were the only things
I could think of, I had the sense to accept that I was sick
and needed the kind of help that my husband
or my friends could never give.
Despite my perceived insanity, I was lucid enough
to realize that it’s time for me to seek medical help.
So, no, watching Criminal Minds is not making
my mental illnesses worse than they already are.
It is part of my therapy only I can fully understand.