Today at 6:15 PM


The battlecries ring out
Bounce around the room
Carry desperation through the air
Heed the call for help
I find myself crumpled in the corner
On alert for the demon’s shadow
His stealth being is rising
While my fragile self is slipping
Vulnerable I crawl to a safe place
Back against the wall
Tears have given way
To fear
I am not impervious to his grasp
To his clutch
His soul sucking strength
I have no sword
I have no shield
Purely at his mercy
His voice reverberates inside me
Taunting me from the darkness
These walls are cold
Denial breeds weakness
I am left defenseless
I hear his breathing
Feel his footsteps
Won’t be long now
I have since given in
No will to fight
To stave off this evil within
What else is there
But to turn myself in
The delusion is real

I want outta this mess

Raw ugly feelings being pounded into my head and now into the keyboard. Incessant and I repeat incessant thoughts bombard my mind. One thought begets another and begets another. I’m dizzy. I think I could throw up. I’m not chasing these thoughts like when I’m manic. I’m trying to shield myself as they are intruding upon My psyche. I cringe as if I have a migraine. Tears fall which you’d think would be a release.  Instead I feel like a prisoner. I carry klonopin in my pocket hoping to bolster my defense.

The chaos is nothing more than suggestive ways to end my life.  Ways for home, ways awAy from home, down by the river.  Even at the hospital where maybe I should be.  Am I just weak when the voices insist upon insist I gather all my old medications and I do. I couldn’t know longer tolerate the round and round word play. I gave in. Impulsively shoving them into a bag. The bag covertly in the backseat of my car. Fueling the fire of “options.” An escape plan of sorts.

Looking  up from the bottom of the rabbit hole. It feels to hard and to far to climb. I am by no means comfortable. I’m incredibly tired. I’m inching towards rapid cycling. I just came out of a 3 month psychotic episode. I had about 4 weeks of feeling back in the world on somewhat stable ground. That gave way to bipolar depression w some suicidal ideation for shits and giggles. I have to tell you I do not feel like I belong in the world. If bipolar is my lot and it leads me to destruction, perhaps that is just destiny.

Places I once felt comfortable are no more. Any hint of foundation I could rely upon disintegrated.  Enter the big B word..Burden. This is a huge weight. I know I know. Just shut it down. Don’t believe it. What tools do you have?  I’ve tried to shut down the thoughts and voices. They plague me, fuck w me. I’m so tired and just not wanting to fight anymore. Bipolar first wrote an awesome post Bipolar destroys you..fight anyway. Check it out. It’s powerful.  I read her words more than a few days ago. Since I have fallen farther.

While I do understand this is bipolar…UP. dOWN. sWINGS. I don’t particularly like it. Only a 4 week reprieve after 3 months of hell. I just don’t know that I want to carry on this way, or if I have the strength.

This is raw, unedited and really no read through. I had to get it out for better or worse.



Who am I

Somewhere along this journey of life I was faced w emotional challenges. It was undiagnosed for a long time in my late teens to early 20’s. I had found alcohol and I was away at college. But my inability to communicate my emotional instability, fears and feeling different was washed down with booze. My only way of communication was in written form. I wrote a note to my dorm supervisor hinting I was suicidal. I signed it anonymously but he knew it was me. I want to say this is the first time I experienced ideation.
Ironically, in my senior year of high school a friend of mine was hospitalized for psychiatric issues. I knew nothing about this world. I went to visit her and felt so comfortable there. The idea people were there to listen to me w out judgement, w out telling me what I should be doing, there was room for me just to be me..pressure free was so appealing. Many years later I would wind up in such a place several different times. I am lucky I have had positive experiences for the most part.
There is a point of desperation I hit. Or maybe it hits me. I’m not entirely sure. I am digging my heels in, keeping my nose to the grindstone, convincing myself how detrimental it would be to my agency to concede I need help. I work so hard in my place of work to look productive which means I am still functional, which means I still have my integrity in tack.  I struggle w the thought of someone else needing to pick up my slack. I have convinced myself my role is so important that to take time off now would be disastrous. Never mind in the work world there will never be a good time.
All the effort and energy it takes to get up and get to work, follow through on projects, take phone calls from disgruntled parents and vendors, not cry, not get bowled over w anxiety, not freeze in fear, and keep secrets from my husband comes pouring out at some point. Then I quickly become the person I am trying to avoid. This occurred just yesterday. I am truly dumbfounded by my behavior.
I awoke after my husband and we always meet for coffee in the office to start the day.  The sun was bright as I got up and felt grateful for it, so much so I was going to sing a little song to him. However, as I fed the cats and got my coffee I forgot about the song. I was working on my computer and he on his. Everything was as it always is. We had talked about plans last night for today.  He mentioned an email he received from a mutual friend, well rather my friend. I apparently had some reaction on my face, I don’t personally know what it was, but I was off to the races.  I still think he had a part but he doesn’t agree so much. Regardless the events that unfolded, specifically my behavior is irrational and out of control. I ran the gam met..yelling, screaming, throwing things, crying, sobbing, attempting to leave the house, went back to bed twice. I am still confused how it all happened. What in me set off a fire storm. I could not calm down for hours. Completely out of control. Unable to pull back or pull out.
The day was ruined. My husband at a loss and concerned for our marriage, as well as completely confused. He is stressed constantly and walking on egg shells each day. Guilt upon more guilt weighs me down. Shame already crushing me. Anger seething in me. Hatred of myself and hatred of bipolar disorder engulfing me. What is left?  Discouraged, alone, scared, and hopeless.  Why should a person like me exist to cause immense pain in others.  This kills me as I love this man. I am a compassionate patient loving person, at least I was. I am different now.
I can be impulsive. Which is dangerous. He knows this and refused to let me leave the house. I just needed out. Needed to be alone. Truthfully I didn’t know what I needed. I was pacing so full of angst and disgust w myself. My memory is so poor that I can’t recall the events of the morning so I can point some fingers at him. Regardless the monster that was unleashed is not someone I want to be for even a minute. That person is my father. He is angry and has no compassion for others. He has a short fuse and points fingers at others first. I own the unacceptable way I handled things. It hurts me. It hurts my husband.
I feel like I lost my mind yesterday and another piece of my fragile self. I barely know  who I am on the cusp of turning 42 years old.  I can’t decipher myself from my illness. Is this who I have truly become? Was this outburst due to bipolar disorder? Does it even matter?

Just a Glimpse

My world has been severed at the deepest intersection I know.  The connection broken at the most fragile part of me: my heart. Shattered. The pieces fall about me one by one. It was a slow desecration of the magic we created. The back pocket I often tucked you in was tearing, unbeknownst to me.  The interwoven dance of our souls seemed to be slowing down. Touch. Intimate touch was no longer present. It was as if my hand just reached through yours. No more holding on.  Soon only blankets were keeping me warm.  I retreated into myself. Believing it has finally come true. I am too much for you. The internal emotional chaos bleeds into the external often times for only you to see. You bare witness to my very essence wilting and decaying, afraid to stay and afraid to go.  Sacred space that allowed for a special kind of love inching smaller.  My wall that you brought down resurrected on fear. Impulse. Necessity. Such a small house yet the division ever apparent.  I steal looks at you hoping to feel you. Hoping to understand where I went wrong.  I try to speak but words fall silent, die on my lips. What’s to say but Wreckage. Selfishness. Lost in a bipolar world so cruel. Held captive. Beaten. No longer myself. It’s not a stretch to say I am no longer the bright eyed, vibrant, confident girl you fell in love with.  The outer shell may project glimpses, but inside the truth is known.  I’ve fallen from grace.  No amount of forgiveness and acceptance can bring her back.  It’s not lost on me how much you hurt. I have yet to tame the beast within me.  I secretly fear the day the door swings wide. I’d beg you to stay, promise of change. But, those would be lies.  I don’t know who I’ll be from day to day.  The confusion rings true for me and I know for you.  Just know that every ounce of me that can loves you tremendously.


The world is full of lies
Cancerous affiliations
Bullets affecting innocent lives
Tragedy rains down
With no protection in sight
Stress stares us in the face
Medication shoved our way
Mass fear mass anger
Volatile at best
He yells
She screams
Scars on wrists
Broken dreams
Lost in television scenes
Wanting of love
Desirous of space
Forgetting to say hello
Too busy to say goodbye
The rush of the rush
Stepping on flowers
To get one step ahead
Blind to sunsets
To tired for sunrise
Booze brings in millions
Calms the nerves
Severs the pain from the mind
Loud speakers preach
Of change
Of manifest destiny
Church bells ring
Calling some home
Pretend smiles and
Fake handshakes in the parlor
When does it end
How Are we to carry on
where do we start
To make a change

It Never Stops

It seems like it never ends. I’m over here trying desperately to get my stuff together and bipolar disorder is over there conjuring up the opposite plan.  I begged my doc to give me the okay to dive back into work full time starting next week. I’m currently working 20 hrs.  I’m not doing swimmingly well, but I’m hanging there. I dutifully sat on my therapists couch on Monday and talked it all through.  I thought we had a brilliant plan. I was going to ask my podoc to write two work notes. One for a full return and one for increase to 30 hrs per week. I could then see how my week went and decide on Sunday what I thought was best for me. Now if you know me at all, you know I am going to give the full return status to HR no matter what. I’m the fanatic. It’s all or nothing.
What I neglected to consider was that she has worked with me for 10+ years and just might have learned a thing or two about me, and how I operate.  She told me 30 hours makes the most sense. Giving me 2 notes would put a lot of undo pressure on me to have to decide last minute.  So there it is 30 hrs per week for the remaining two weeks in January.  I told her I would just shut up and oblige. I could beat this to death in my head. Play it over and over til blood spills.
So, i’m showing up at work. Trying to get my workouts in. Keep the house somewhat clean. The note request was on Monday. Moving through the week, so unsure of myself. Writing to do lists with no real understanding of the tasks. Then Thursday morning comes. This is a “big” all important day. Lots to do and I need to work 8 full hours.  I was walking around my office lost within a 10 foot space.  The floor was moving under my feet. The box full of proposals I didn’t read was expanding. The To do list was blinking. My breath was shortening. The room was going black. I was sweating.  PANIC ATTACK.
Okay. Okay. What to do. Priority is to slow my breath.  In and out. Count 4. One more time.  I slumped in my office chair wanting to cry. But not. Luckily I had something stashed in my purse for emergencies and I think this qualified.  It was early. My office mate was not working. I had the ability to close my door and take a few moments. So I did.  Oh there is something else. Intrusive thoughts. I hate them. Bombarding me. Suggesting I should just take all my medications at once. Avoid this kinda thing, or anything, in the future.
I tell ya.  It just never stops. The battles in my mind. Bipolar disorder always nipping at my heels.  Some days it’s treacherous terrain. Some days, with some extra armor, it’s manageable.  Other days the grip is too much, too hard.  How I’m still here I don’t really know.  I just am. That too hasn’t stopped.


A kaleidoscope of dreams


Beauty immersed in


Twisted and tangled

Tarnished and mangled

Ah, but not destroyed


Teeny Tiny shreds

Of hope

Hold these dreams together

Caught up in darkness

Falling free into light

A slight turn of the


An uptick in thought

Transcendence of expectation

A sometimes soul-less


Floundering in the night

Reaches so very deep

Within the cavernous mind





The essence of me

For when I am found

That is but one dream

Come true

Social Studies

I am a self diagnosed Over Thinker. I saw a cartoon yesterday that really hit home. It was of a person pushed to the ground, laying on her side, shielding herself from the mass amount of thoughts that were trying to take over.  I get stuck on an issue, lets say relationships, and whirl around on a merry go round thousands of times.  I never trust my judgement, my gut. I tend to think my bipolar brain is wrong about most things, when maybe, just maybe I am right.  But, I get bogged down and never come to a resolution.  I find it quite infuriating.

I sit in my therapist’s office and rehash day’s old events. I look at it from every angle, upside down, right side up, diagonal.  She applauds me for being able to see so many sides of the coin.  Yet, I just feel like I am chasing my tail. Like my mind is an empty drawer full of marbles rolling around in all directions. I wonder if I somehow, unconsciously, I do this to avoid making a decision.  Or to avoid coming to a painful conclusion I don’t want to face.  Or maybe I truly am weighing all my options.  I just don’t know anymore.

What I do know is all this thinking and overthinking keeps me from living in the moment. Keeps me from taking a leap of faith.  Keeps me from reaching outside the “safety” of my box.  I don’t want my life to be a bag of symptoms I carry around and manage.  I want to live, not merely exist.  In a way, I suppose, I feel like I’m protecting myself.  If I don’t reach out too far, I don’t get hurt.  However, if I just stay put I am at risk of being tied to the whipping post of my mind.  The voices in my head can be quite cruel.

So, I force myself to open the curtains. Press my face against the window almost as if I can feel the outside.  The sunrise is beautiful. The dawn of a new day. The pink hue that gently edges across the sky is mesmerizing.  So much to see and do beyond these four walls.  In all honesty, I am no safer in here than out there. Alone with my own mind can be just as “dangerous”, if not more so.

I was talking to a coworker who is also in sobriety with 20 years.  We are just getting to know each other. I was trying to relay some frustrations and anxieties about friendships.  She talked about when you first become sober its like learning to live again, without the booze. Learning to relate to people on a sober level is hard.  I knew what she was saying as I had been there myself. I ventured to say that I feel like I am in the same position emerging from the toughest and longest psychotic episode of my bipolar career. I have been steeped in psychiatry and symptom management for 3 months. Very little contact with the outside world, especially on a social level. Sometimes I was in a place where my husband had to tell me what to do next because I couldn’t figure it out.  I feel like I am re-entering the world as a functioning person again. I don’t know how to relate to people. I don’t know how much they want to know about what’s been happening and in turn, its really all I have to talk about.

In reality, I think I am doing better than I am giving myself credit for. I am showing up for work everyday, trying the best I can.  I’m maintaining a workout schedule for the most part. I am participating in my marriage.  The next step is dipping my toe in the social arena. Wish me luck!

Painful Journey

For the sake of honesty
I hold my pen to the fire
Drink the bounty of sugar
Bourbon and wine
Drunken words w no inhibition
Run a stake to the heart
Can be naughty or nice
Liquid courage becomes the vice
Summoning false conviction
Demanding deep red sultry
Lipstick on your face
Who you believed to be
Washed away in a bottle
Lost in illusion
Reality an intrusion
Perhaps white powder
Is the long sought solution
Desecration of soul
Loss of control
You never truly had
So anxious for the pass
Your next round
A ticket to bliss
Expunged of pain
So many voices
All pretend to be your friend
Not on one can you rely
This isn’t you
But the mirror doesn’t lie
So cold
And alone
Pain looms large
Promising to swallow
You whole
Terrors of childhood
A time without love
Forever sadness
Of what could of been
But stolen instead
Close the curtains
Fall into bed
Weep for the little you
Who knew no bounds
The journey now begins