I am not Okay – a Poem about Denial and acknowledging Reality

I’m laughing at his jokes, giving my affirmations,
I accept apologies, never bothering for justifications,
The highs are worth the lows,
He’s the one I consciously chose,
Yet, I am not okay…

Wearing my best smile and a dress to match,
Keep saying ‘I’m so lucky’ because he’s a catch,
His attention makes my heart sway
Every touch takes my breath away,
Still, I am not okay…

Great at romantic gestures and flattering speech,
His presence is like sunset on a beach,
I feel like a queen on his arm,
Always spell bounded by his charm,
However, I am not okay…

Next to him, I am not me,
I hold on tight, but I yearn to flee,
Masking bitterness with sarcasm,
Being cheerful like faking an orgasm,
Yes, I am not okay…

I say ‘yes’ when my guts are screaming ‘no’
Our perfect relationship is just for show,
He turns a blind eye to me blowing up his phone,
I end up crying my eyes out, curled up all alone,
Obviously, I am not okay…

I’m stuck in a rut, it’s pathetic, 
He calls me crazy, never sympathetic,
I run away and then come crawling back,
Thinking he makes up for all the things I lack,
To conclude, I am not okay…

What is it like to live in denial?

Living in denial is like wearing sunglasses at night and insisting it’s the sunniest day ever. It’s like a mental gymnastics routine where the truth is the floor mat, and you’re doing backflips to avoid landing on it.

So, why do people take up residence in the land of denial? Well, it’s a cushy place. No rent to pay, and the view is selective, carefully avoiding any inconvenient truths. It’s the VIP section of the psyche, where reality needs an exclusive invitation.

In Denialville, population: you, personal issues are like mythical creatures—everyone’s heard of them, but nobody’s seen one up close. Your addiction? Oh, that’s just a quirky hobby. Relationships on the rocks? Nah, it’s just a temporary glitch in the Matrix. The Titanic didn’t sink; it’s just taking an extended vacation underwater.

And when it comes to health, denial is the superhero cape you wear to fend off pesky medical concerns. That persistent cough? It’s just your lungs practicing their beatboxing skills. Doctor’s appointments are for mere mortals; you’ve got an immunity cloak woven from sheer willpower.

Relationships are another Denialville hotspot. The signs of trouble are just misunderstood “emojis” in the grand text message of life. Infidelity? More like a collaborative writing project where reality is just a rough draft waiting for edits.

Addiction, the elusive unicorn of Denialville, gallops through the streets unnoticed. “I can quit anytime I want!” you declare, holding onto your pint-sized horn of self-deception. Let’s not forget the Denial Disco, where grief and loss are the dance partners you pretend not to see. The music blares, drowning out the cries of reality, and you boogie your way through, oblivious to the need for a heartfelt slow dance.

On a global scale, denial is the ultimate social party trick. Climate change? Just Mother Nature redecorating. Economic challenges? It’s just a sale on financial responsibility, and everyone’s stocking up on denial discounts.

Living in denial is like starring in your own blockbuster movie. You’re the hero dodging plot twists, the master of deflection, and the scriptwriter who conveniently leaves out the inconvenient scenes. It’s the Truman Show of the mind, with denial as the director, producer, and lead actor.

But let’s be real (if Denialville allows it for a moment): denial isn’t a permanent vacation. Sooner or later, reality taps you on the shoulder like a persistent partygoer, and you have to face the music. The sunglasses come off, the denial disco ends, and you’re left with the aftermath of the wildest mental gymnastics routine ever performed.

Is it okay to admit “I’m not okay”?

It’s not just okay, it’s practically a power move to proudly declare, “I am not okay!” It’s like giving a superhero signal to the universe, saying, “Hey, life, I need a sidekick right now, or at least a really good playlist.”

Admitting you’re not okay is like doing a mic drop on the perfectionist facade. Who needs to be okay all the time anyway? It’s overrated, like trying to walk in heels on a tightrope while juggling flaming torches. Let’s be real; life can be a bit of a circus.

So, you’re not doing cartwheels of joy today? Congratulations, you’re a card-carrying member of the “I Am Not Okay, and That’s Totally Fine” club. We meet in our PJs, eat ice cream straight from the tub, and discuss the fine art of adulting (spoiler: there’s no such thing).

Admitting you’re not okay is not a mere cry for help; it’s a bold announcement that you’re a human being, not a robot programmed to tolerate everything. If life were a movie, this would be the part where the character looks straight into the camera and says, “Yep, things are a bit messy right now.”

And let’s not forget, being not okay is a temporary status. It’s like a pit stop on the highway of life. Sure, the engine might be sputtering, and the GPS is confused, but you’ll find your way back to cruising speed. It’s just a detour, not a dead end.

So, shout it from the rooftops, sing it in the shower, or whisper it to your pet fish – whatever works for you: “I am not okay!” It’s the phrase that kickstarts the journey to being okay again, armed with resilience, a sense of humor, and the knowledge that, hey, even superheroes have off days.