Captive by Madeline Dyer is a volume of
poetry produced from her therapy writings as she worked through OCD and
psychosis induced by Autoimmune Basal Ganglia Encephalitis. As the title
suggests, this disorder causes brain inflammation, and this book circles on her
feelings and experiences during this time.
Thematically,
we see several clear messages regarding disability and mental/physical
disorders arise. Often, frustration and helplessness come not only from Dyer’s
illness, but also as a response to the way she is treated by various individuals
in the medical profession, as her condition forces her to go to the, repeatedly
for help. Instead of getting help, she is dismissed, refused tests, and made to
feel that she is just seeking attention. In that way, this volume of poetry is
very timely, as there have been a number of studies coming out on how women are
not believed by doctors in their pain.
Although her
experiences are specific to her life and having a disorder that is very rare,
people who struggle with chronic conditions will be able to relate to a lot of
elements exhibited here. As Dyer crafts her poems, she blurs the lines between
metaphor, hallucination, and literal occurrence, taking the reader with her as
she relies on natural imagery, but then describes actual hallucinations. As she
discusses her illness, the ever-shifting relationship between her and it
unfolds: at once a monster, a captor, a tormentor, a friend, and sometimes, an
object that she diminishes into a humorous image (a dancing beetle) to take
control over it. She describes it as the one that whispers to her how to be
safe, will never let her to be free, and lies to her that it is her only
friend.
There is
also a sense of claustrophobia created by the poems when read together. Dealing
with mental illness, whether induced by a physical cause or not, can be incredibly
isolating. Whether it is due to your loved ones growing tired of your needing
help, or you pushing others away, doesn’t really matter. In the end, part and parcel
with all of this is feeling very alone with your illness.
It’s easier
to process this volume as a whole rather than a selection of poems, but I’ll
mention a few that particularly resonated with me.
“Things People Say/Things I Want to Say”
Again, I
think it helps to read this volume in one go, but if you have to take a break,
make sure to read these two together. They reflect how people talk to those
with mental illness and things Dyer is struggling to communicate.
“but my tears
feed it [the monster]
and my
breaths
are the beat
of its wings”
“Men in White Coats”
One of
several poem detailing her complex relationship with doctors and the fear that’s
been inspired by hospitals.
“I’ll run away,
don’t make
me go
to a prison
too white
with screams
as loud as silence
and whispers
that cut.”
“There’s Nothing Wrong with You”
In this
poem, I recognized the feeling of going to a doctor, and having that doctor
shocked when I cried that my results showed nothing. Anyone with chronic
problems knows that a negative test is good for what they tested for, but you
are still sick and still in pain, and something is wrong. They just haven’t found
it. And when you spend a huge amount of money for tests that find nothing? Hello. I’m gonna cry.
“I see my
soul, pink, inflamed, fleshy,
reduced to a
watery, flat nothing
in the
doctor’s hands.
Hands that
are supposed to care
but his
hands are callous because his mind
is set and
he’s not willing to believe me
and research
my symptoms to save me.”
“The Beetle from My Mind”
“Little legs
and little arms.
A briefcase,
glossy shoes, and a top hat.
A monocle,
because he thinks it looks so cool.”
Personifying
her psychosis as this little beetle that she dresses up and tells to dance,
owning the space of her mind. It’s just such a great concept, and I think
others who deal with mental illness and disorders can definitely relate to
visualizations that help them cope with the bullshit their brains are trying to
pull.
“My Hands”
There’s an
element of body horror to not recognizing parts of yourself and feeling vulnerable
and unable to be an actor in your own life. That’s what struck me about this
one. When the monster is most in control “a parasite, reaching with long, sweet
limbs.. he pulls the levers and my fingers obey.” This really pulls the reader
into the terrifying feeling of losing of control.
“Psycho”
Losing
connection with your friends through the process of trying to keep your head
above water during an illness like this… It’s just crushing. It emphasizes the
sense of isolation because it isn’t all at once. The longer it’s dragged out,
the more painful it is.
“But the
wasp thrives after leaving its poison,
and I am
wasteland, watching friends evaporate,
lost in the
grid.”
Honorable
mention: I just like “An Apology to the Ponies.” Dyer has Shetland ponies. I
liked this one.
I will say,
in the beginning, I had some difficulty parsing the meaning of the poems as
they were. I think that this could’ve
been resolved for the reader by putting “Sometimes, I Get Really Good Days“
first to make it easier to ease into the volume and follow Dyer’s poems. At the
same time, I sort of value the struggle to find meaning in an experience that
is so different from my own. For me, with anxiety and depression and chronic
pain, a lot of my issues don’t even come close to Dyer’s, and cognitively
putting in the work to understand her words is very important. By the end, I
thought, “Oh no, it’s over.”
And you know
that makes a powerful volume of poetry. I definitely recommend giving it a try.
I received a copy of this ebook for free from Netgalley in exchange for an honest review.
