第二十一颗避孕药
本期推送来自2021年飞路中英精神健康艺术展的入选投稿。该展览入选作品我们一直在进行整理和发布，以线上展览的方式和大家见面，方便当时无法到场的读者朋友。
作品名称：第二十一颗避孕药
Exhibit Name: The 21th Pill
作者、英译者：一凡
Author: Yifan
作品形式：文字（诗歌）
Exhibit Form: Literature (Poetry)
插画：Sloane Leong
该作品入选
2021年FLYWAY飞路中英精神健康艺术展
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引言
Foreword
每次精神病发作完，哭泣、呓语、癫痫、咆哮的鬼魂还在家灰阶斜体地浮游，我会想，如果不是我，B是不是能继续他明媚、全勤的人生？是否我一直在将他折旧？
我好心碎，而他看起来是那样的清洁。
——林奕含的Facebook
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如果把关于污秽的观念中的病源学和卫生学因素去掉，我们就会得到对于污秽的古老定义，即污秽就是位置不当的东西（matter out of place）。
这是一个十分具有启发性的研究进路，它暗示了两个情境：一系列有秩序的关系以及对此秩序的违背。
——玛格丽特·道格拉斯《洁净与危险》
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应对有抑郁病史的女性进行密切观察，如果抑郁复发并且达到严重程度应停用本品。
——《屈螺酮炔雌醇片（II）说明书》
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正文
每晚十一点的闹钟催我吃药
十一点十分开始头疼欲呕
怀孕很糟但这种确保不怀孕的方式
也很糟不一样的糟
其它方式也各有各的糟
比如干脆不要阴茎—阴道性交
比如有的避孕套好用但贵
有的便宜但有硅油不太健康
还是个恐同品牌；
比如结扎——谁结？
要打开肚子吗？
我的肚子被打开过
那是骑滑板车被一个金属部件划的
我的额头被打开过
那是看书昏昏沉沉出门时被佛推的
我的后脑被打开过
那是抑郁时出门不知怎么就撞车了
我的阴道被打开过
那是常事据说这意味着我足够幸运
我上次写诗已经是一年半前了
那时我比现在感伤得多
写出来的都是一些恋爱中的
女人的平庸得诡异的心思
这次写诗被避孕药小组的豆友
打断了一下她很贴心地说
会拍摄发快递的全程发给我
是啊避孕药如果假了怎么得了？
但假的真不了
只有相信姐妹不会搞死姐妹
我不喜欢犬儒式地取消
姐妹情谊的力量，就像
我天天看着大学的寝室群
虽然我早已不和其他三个室友联系
她们时常联络，早晚问安，互助友爱，还有个东西叫赋能call
是我没参与过也酸葡萄式不怎么感冒的活动
我主动断绝了和她们的友谊
却又难免有旁观者的艳羡
就像我主动断绝了另一段友谊
导火索是对方说，你好点后回我一下——我现在是坏的吗？
可能我不配姐妹
为什么陪伴的代价要么是可怕的吵闹
要么是伤害呢
我恨以陪伴冒犯我的人又恨无法根除这一需求的自己
恨来恨去恨了个干干净净：
离我远点，我就是坏的哦
几天前就有不知从何而来的写诗欲
在我体内蠢蠢欲动
我根本不知道它意味着什么
因为我很早就自绝于诗人
自绝来自绝去差点自我了结
最近我又常想一了百了
这是首歌也是我的日常或者说月常
费了老大力气
把自己扔到了一个比较安全的有“陪伴”的地方，哭了
“你是不是又想……‘那个’了？”
两个人一起笑了起来
可能坐过山车也不全是下山的路
不全是可怕的失重
我仍然怕活，但也还怕死。
爱不能治病但它能挽留我
意志没那么有用但它总能
让我触底反弹回来那么一点
生活没什么意思但我还在
努力发明意思，再发明一点
一点点都不可以吗？
我想稍微再健康一点点，再开心
一点点，再轻松一点点
再能干一点点，再勇敢一点
再多爱一点，我不着急
我才二十三岁半，我有时间
第二十一片避孕药
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The 21th Pill
作品阐述
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两年前由于糟糕的身心状况，不得不开始关注精神疾痛、性别及其交叉。这首诗虽是有感而发，似也可看作基于这段时间积累和反思的报告。我毫不避讳自己长久的周期性抑郁、刺人的边缘性特质、随机而至的自杀倾向或关于性别的愤世嫉俗。它们未尝不是自我探究的契机，但也更是危险的负担；如《创伤与复原》中写到的，它们是我的劲敌，但同时也是我不可分割的部分。
曾与友人忿忿地谈及“健康”的概念如何构成规训和治理，但又难免像林奕含一样，吐不尽那么多对精神症患者的污名的内化，觉得经历症状时的自己对身边人来说是“污染”，“只想健健康康地爱人，只想健健康康地被爱”。我们在批判结构的义愤与唯愿“正常”的安全中不住地摇摆。
在吃下第二十一颗避孕药后写了这首诗，本是偶然，但这个数字让我感慨。短效避孕药以二十八颗（含安慰剂）作为一周期的服药量，本是以服用安慰剂带来的撤退性出血模拟“正常”经期出血的、对所谓“二十八天标准月经周期”神话的复读，并无医学意义可言，然而昨天在豆瓣的避孕药小组看到一则对某品牌避孕药设置七片安慰剂片想当然的实用主义合理化：这样开始吃这一盒药的那天是周几，开始下一盒药就还是周几（事实上，连续吃激素片同样如此，因为二十一和二十八一样是七的倍数）。
讽刺的是，如果我继续吃药，大概率也会选择乖乖按说明书来吃，倒真不是对什么完美周期心向往之，只是吃激素给我带来很多的不适，能短暂停药同时不失去避孕功能就是赚到（补充：后得知暂停激素片可能导致激素水平波动和相应的情绪波动，决定还是两害相权取其轻）。
这是我的又一次摇摆。或许只有尝试与被划归为不正常者同频地摇摆，才能真正看清ta们，不然所见只有视觉暂留效果带来的残影。与很多“正常”抑或“不正常”的人一样，我对“对话”和“理解”充满怀疑，但也充满渴望。我仍隐隐希望它们不只是神话。
If we can abstract pathogenicity and hygiene from our notion of dirt, we are left with the old definition of dirt as matter out of place. This is a very suggestive approach. It implies two conditions: a set of ordered relations and a contravention of that order.– Mary Douglas, Purity and Danger: An Analysis of Concepts of Pollution and Taboo (1984)
Women with a history of depression should be closely monitored and stop taking YAZ if depression recurs and reaches a severe level.– YAZ Patient Information Leaflet
Every night at 11 my “take the pill” alarm rings and at 11:10 headache and nausea arrivePregnancy is BAD, but this way of preventing it is bad, too – just in a different mannerOther ways are also bad in their own way: how about giving up penile-vaginal intercourse?What about condoms – some are great but unaffordable, and cheaper ones use silicon oilwhose brand is homophobic. And ligation – on whom is it operated? Any abdomen to open?My abdomen was once opened by a metal part of my scooter when I rode it and slippedMy forehead was once opened, pushed by Buddha1 to the door after my reading for hoursMy back of the head was once opened when I was, depressive but still went out, hit by a carMy vagina was once opened and it still always is. Heard that it means I’m lucky enoughIt’s been a year and a half since I wrote my last poem and I was by then much more sentimentalAnd all I wrote down was nothing but creepily banal thoughts from a literal Woman in LoveWriting this poem, I was interrupted by the message from a Douban “The Pill” group memberShe said with care that she would send me a video of packing the pill I bought from herYup what if the pill is fake? But what else could I do other than trusting my stranger sister?I don’t like the cynical canceling of the power of sisterhood, reading the group messages dailyFrom my college roommates though I since long ago stopped contacting the three of themThey chat a lot and greet each other often and are always helpful and loving, and they wouldEven make something called “empowering call”, something I never tried nor showed interest inI willingly broke with them but never successfully removed my admiration as an observerLike I broke with another ex-friend, triggered by her message: reply when you feel wellDoes being unwell defiles me and makes me BAD? Maybe I just don’t deserve any sisterWhy does it feel either horribly disturbing or traumatic to be in a company? I hate those whoOffend me with their company as well as myself who can hardly eliminate the need for itAnd end up hating everybody and not hating nobody: leave me alone, cause I’m a BAD guyDays ago the strange feeling that I’m about to write a poem surged within my body and I had no ideaWhat it meant because I’ve long ago rejected my identity as a poet. So many identities have I rejected thatI almost rejected my life as well. Recently I’m again thinking about giving up life once and for allThis is the title of a song2 and that of my daily or more precisely monthly life record. Spent much effortThrowing myself into a safe space with “company”, which is a shoulder to cry on, I started crying“Are you again thinking of committing... ‘that’?” asked the shoulder’s owner, and we started laughingMaybe roller-coaster riding doesn’t head downward all the time with terrible weightlessnessI still fear life, but death, too. Love works no cure but it makes me reluctant to leave the worldWill is not that powerful but it allows me to rebound and endure through my all-time lowLife is not that meaningful but I keep constructing meanings to survive. Construct a bit moreJust A BIT more for God’s sake! I want to be just a bit healthier, a bit more light-hearteda bit more relaxed, a bit more capable, and a bit braver, and to love a bit more and a bit betterI’m in no hurry, I’m only twenty-three and a half years old, and I still have plenty of time
Two years ago, because of my poor physical-mental state, I started to focus on mental illness and gender with an awareness of intersectionality. Coming from an outburst, the poem is somehow a record based on the past two years’ learning and rumination, in which I’m not shy of revealing my long-term chronic depression, hurtful borderline traits, random suicidal ideation or gender-related cynicism. They are for sure no less dangerous burdens than self-knowing gateways. As is written in Trauma and Recovery, they exist as both an enemy worthy of my mettle and a piece of my personality.
Having complained much with friends about how the concept of health disciplines and governs us, I never really conquered the internalization of stigma as a mentally disordered “patient”, my symptoms making me feel almost “contaminating” people around me and making me “want to be nothing more than a healthy lover and a healthy loved one as well” like Lin Yi-han (Taiwanese writer, the author of Fang Si-qi’s First Love Paradise) did. We never stop swinging from the system-criticizing outrage to the secure sense of being “normal” and the other way round.
The poem written on the day of taking my 21th pill being a coincidence, the number 21 itself makes me sigh with feelings. There are always 28 pills (placebos included) for each cycle, which seems no more than a repetition of the “perfect 28-day period cycle” myth, mimicking the bleeding during “normal”periods with withdrawal bleeding, and is medically not necessary at all. However, when browsing the Douban “The Pill” group, I ran into a senseless utilitarian rationalization of the pill of a certain brand having 7 placebos: so that you won’t forget which day in a week it is to start the next box (which is also true with skipping the placebos, since both 21 and 28 are multiples of 7) . Ironically, I’d probably still follow the instructions and take the placebos, not for a “perfect cycle” but to avoid side effects without losing the contraceptive effect so as to maximize the pill’s “performance-price ratio” (did some research after the submission of my writing and it turned out that taking placebo can bring hormonal swings and thus mood swings, so to skip them sounded somehow less uncomfortable).
Just another swing of mine. Maybe only when we try to swing at the same rate with those branded “abnormal” can we see them clearly, or all we can see are mere vague shadows left by persistence of vision. Like many of the normal and the abnormal, I’m always questioning things like “conversation” and “understanding”, but still I long for them and secretly hope that they are more than just myths.
负责设计、布展的志愿者，为此付出了巨大的心力，再次对ta们表示感谢
本期排版: 甜感谢她的排版巧思！
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