The Struggle is Real

I wanted to drive right off the side of the mountain. The idea of flying through the air was so enticing. The ultimate escape. A sense of peace filled the wells of my existence. A sigh of relief almost. My right hand wanting to gently pull the steering wheel. Gently veer into the trees. Float on the air for just a moment. Tears fell. Not of sadness or joy. But of possibility. What if…
I find myself so confused and uncomfortable at home. My husband is trying to find his own footing for the first time. Bipolar disorder has ravaged our relationship. But, neither of us knew it. Call it codependency maybe. Call it the love of a husband trying to stand by his mentally ill wife. Don’t call it anything but a realization on his part. He hasn’t been taking care of himself. Always always worried about me. It takes its toll.
I flopped on the proverbial couch after an ultimatum. But, that’s not fair. What it really followed was a pretty bad manic episode and subsequent suicide attempt that left me hooked up to a machine in the emergency room for 24 hours. Therapy was a must. Something I have avoided for years. Reluctant and pissed off, I agreed. Somewhat selfishly suggesting I wasn’t the only one.
Just over 2 years later, and the most devastating manic episode to uproot our lives, broken he found his place on “the couch.” His sense of self possibly lost as mine is over and over. In any case, as he learns about himself, new coping skills, new whatever…his response to me is changing. For better? It feels worse to me. A discomfort I can’t seem to tolerate. So, I run.
It was a planned escape to Tahoe. My parents had extra room at their timeshare. I absolutely love it up there. Sometimes I feel like I remember to breathe in those mountains. Truly beholding the beauty of the lake. Nature therapy. But, I was also running. I knew it. He didn’t.
The three hour drive leaves lots of room for ruminating, guilt, fear, anxiety. My brain never stops. Ever. On a long drive by myself, which is rare, it could be deadly. Obviously I’m no stranger to suicidal ideation. It felt somewhat intrusive as I turned the radio up. Played songs I knew every word and could sing at the top of my lungs. But still, the thoughts of turning in front of a semi, veering off into a barrier or simply driving off the side of a cliff haunted me. However, then quickly turned into a glorious fantasy. Like Thelma and Louise, solo style. Perhaps just another accident on the overcrowded freeway.
I made my way up towards those mountains. Twists and turns called to me. I drove on through the tears. My parents were waiting for me after all. Tahoe is my chance to reset. Reboot this pained brain. Whispers of..there’s always the drive home too.
I traversed the roads alone. I persevered. Strengthened to face the discomfort as best I can.

Reborn

I rise and fall
On the anticipation of fear
There can be no perfect moment
Darkness into light
Sentient beings rise
Clamoring for answers
Faith on the hill
Fortune found in a cookie
Secrets of the past
Unlocked w a gold key
Moral compass shattered
Dangling from a wire of
Compromise and lost virtue
I am not myself
Staring back in horror
The mirror does not lie
Stripped
Scarred
And naked
Red blood spills on
White porcelain
Mental anguish
Gives way to the physical
I am reborn in this pain

 

Its NOT Impossible!

My integrity is my breath
I rise
And I fall
On its presence
I carry it
Honor it
And vow to keep it
Intact
No matter the
Depression
Mania
Mixed madness
That ensues
Standing tall while Bedridden or
Riddled w anxiety or
Fuming w rage
Sounds impossible
Can be
IMPOSSIBLE
but I refuse to allow my
Moral fortitude
My sincerity
My desire to maintain dignity
In the darkest of times
Be swept away by a
Fury of tears
Manic gibberish
Depressive credence
If there is no light
No relief
No reprieve
There is and
Always will be
Integrity
Even if I am the only one
That knows

Let me apologize in advance

I am wrestling with myself. So agitated. Every noise and every light grating on me. Every email I read sets off rage. I hate everyone. In the next moment I am cowering in the bathroom crying. Uncomfortable. Disgruntled. But then just overwhelmed and sad.  A lovely mixed episode according to my doc. What did I do to deserve this?

I think this started last night. I was wanting to peel my skin off out of disgust. I have just let myself go. Any semblance of a workout routine gone.  I used to be so fit and dedicated. Now I’m a sloth.  I curse myself, but do nothing about it. I set my alarm last night to exercise this morning before work. I got my out of shape butt on the treadmill by 6 am.

In addition, I am having trouble w my supervisor at work. I’m trying to get a new job. The environment is making me unhealthy.  I’m frustrated and confused about her responses to me.  I came home upset last night and as a result could not sleep. My mind was in overdrive and I began obsessing.  Catastrophizing. Creating immense anxiety. Then my mind was scripting interactions and exactly what I should say, what they would say…on and on. Agonizing.  I had to take an additional medication to make it stop.

This post is nothing but a rant. No substance. Sorry.  I have nowhere else to go!! well except the bathroom to cry some more. Pitiful!

 

Forgive me for the Dance

After the fire has long been expunged
My ashen feet charred w soot
The spiral smoke infested ceremony
Precariously Rests upon my skin
Paying homage to the damage you’ve done
They say let go of
What you cannot keep
I needed rid of you my love
Your stench hanging in the air
The enmeshment more than a charade
Your lines blurring into mine
Our step becoming too in line
I tried casting you off
With dignity
And grace
You came back w a fever
bungee cords in place
Tethered
Always tethered
My breath becomes yours
Until
I severed the connection
Painfully and slowly
Plotting
Disguised as independence
Disguised as a need to grow
Gasping for air
I lit the fire
Freedom flames erupted
And began to replenish my soul
Forgive me for the dance
Upon your demise
As I swayed
Sashayed
And pranced
To a rhythm all my own

Its So Okay

When we held hands it was electric.
A modern day sparkler extravaganza.
He lit up the night sky in a way I never knew existed.
Later, I came to realize it was all a fantasy.
His grip was just on the verge of being too tight.
Its okay, he’s just strong.
His words came across w a pungent tone.
Its okay, he’s just intense.
His desire sometimes could illicit pain
Its okay, he’s a fierce lover
His lips were sultry and smelled of another
Its okay, he comes home to me
His whispers were full of deceit
Its okay, sometimes lies fill the gaps
His love for me is grandiose
Its okay, i can be anything he needs

A Forever Balancing Act

I’m going to share something that is so counterintuitive my credibility will probably be in question. I had a travel day for work today. It was only a little over an hour away I had to drive to my appointment. It was a beautiful crisp morning. By the time I had to get on the road, all the frost had disappeared in the glistening sun. My iPod was plugged in and I was ready. My impending appointment wasn’t stressful, so my anxiety was rather low.
I live in Northern California in what many people would probably define as a rural area. I was able to travel this distance without getting on the freeway. I took notice of the black, brown and Oreo cows standing on the hillside. I could see reflections in the standing pond water off to the side of the road. I felt the sunshine insulating my car window. Dare I say, I felt at peace.
I’ve been focusing on being grateful. Forging a connection with a higher power. Allowing myself to believe I belong in this world. Just about 4 weeks ago I didn’t believe this and landed in the psychiatric hospital. Just about 4 weeks ago I had a solid plan I was ready and prepared to carry out. But 4 long weeks later I’m back at work and enjoying this drive. Bipolar disorder has got nothin on me.
As I leisurely take in the view up ahead, I picture myself take my hands of the wheel and glide through the air. Arms out to the side like one might do on a bicycle. I think I want to feel this contentment forever. The only possible way that could happen is to veer into oblivion.
The urge to carry out this fantasy becomes overwhelming. My heart start racing. My thoughts start racing. My vision blurry. Panic attack. I pull over as soon as I can to gather myself and my breathing. I always always leave early. I’m sure you can understand why.
Soon, I turn on my signal and begin my road trip again. I practice what I will say when I arrive. I practice what they will say. I turn on some mellow music. Sink into my seat and remind myself I’m OK.
After my appointment I meet a co-worker for lunch. I do not mention the earlier incident. I prepare for my return drive home. I reach out to my higher power and mumble a few words into the car. Again some sort of comfort comes over me. I notice my surroundings. I take it slow and don’t feel rushed to get home. Its that feeling of peace surrounding me, enticing me, promising me what I perceive as freedom. If I died right now, I could actually say I was at peace. Seconds later I pulled in front of a semi truck barreling down the road. He blared his horn as i narrowly made it through the intersection. I didn’t panic. I didn’t seem to care.
Holding on to a positive feeling can be challenging in this world. For my bipolar brain it’s seemingly impossible. I shoot up, then careen down. With all that lies in between. This was all in the span of 6 hours.
How could someone who thinks they feel “at peace,” such a coveted feeling, put herself in harms way at the same time? I don’t really know. Its completely counterintuitive. I’ll tell ya its the truth. Its not hard to want to feel good. Content. At peace. But, with bipolar disorder, everything is a balancing act.

Save me from Myself

Brazenly stepping across the
Threshold of reality
Dangerously dangling into
The realm of insanity
You see chemicals have
Left my body
Brain left to fend for itself
Transmitters and sparks
Light up the synapses
Cosmic chaos ensues
Dazzling bright lights blur
My vision
My course
Altering the direction
Of what I perceive
Of what I think I know
Shadows lurk
But become my friends
Lead me into a dance of
Sinister behavior
The timeless projector
Plays the movie of my life
My character full of
Force
Precision
On a collision course with
Misunderstood passion
I call to the white knight
Of rescue
Please save me from
Myself

Saturday Morning Musings

The tide has turned
In the wee hours of the night
Darkness began to fade
Only to usher in light
Vibrancy filled my veins
Sustenance filled my soul
An angel graced my bedside
While I slumbered
My penance had been atoned
Forgiveness sprinkled over me
Manic agitated being
Lifted from my weary bones
Rest had finally entered
Mercy granted
Simple
But not so simply
Were my actions condoned
Upon the rising of the sun
I had much work to do
Not only a self pardon
But apology to you
A mere gesture
That faith has been restored