A poem…of hope

The drive down by the river
Echoed in the burned out trees
Sage brush nearly absent
Seems also are the honey bees
Blackened and hollowed out
Tall sprawling oak
Now in fevered disarray
Scorching heat of fire
Tearing at their fine souls
Threatening their ability to stay
In mother nature’s favor
Walking this fine line of
Pomp and circumstance
Fire black leaves blow in the wind
Crippled and broken
No more growth around the bend
Dire days for the manzanita
Beautiful red blazing skin
Now thick with smoke
Yet on the horizon and
Deep into the valley floor
Mustard spreads its wings
Billows of yellow sprouting
In its finest glory
The brightest smile of life
You’ve ever seen
Nature is fighting
Plotting its course
Bringing us small gifts
Within the raindrops
Within the wind gusts
Within the anxiety that startles
Our breath

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Dreams die in the Fog

The lies
They take hold
Implant in my mind
No persuasion otherwise
This just is
Fantasy of life
On the wings of delusion
What could be
Buried deep in illusion
Who are you
To believe
To pursue
Don’t forget
It is you
That rides the wave of confusion
Your mind overrides
Any sense
Any infusion
Of possibility
Your Dreams die in the fog
Of unrequited absolution
For you dear one
Rest in between the realm of
reality
Duality and
Persecution
The long road is ahead
Forever waiting

But Will I….

How is it I go from hibernation and suicidal thinking to wanting to embark on a 9 mile hike w strangers? It’s the same way I go from feeling so strong in my interview to thinking I’ve been an imposter the last 17 years. Yes..I have something to offer. Are you freaking kidding…I have Nothing to offer! I got by, and succeeded, because it was all in-house. Same agency for 17 years, I knew how to fake a job well done.
My mind absolutely will not stop ruminating. Perseverating on the interview of going on 4 days ago. An interview where, perhaps, i might have performed okay. I answered all the questions. I smiled. I was personable. I walked away thinking I just might have nailed it. As reasonable nails go. I think back and am fairly happy w my answers.
Yet, my bipolar brain..if that’s what this obsession is..keeps replaying it. Over. And over. I wake at 3 am w a “better” answer. Why oh why didn’t I say THIS or THAT. Of course you should have said….
I’m trying to block it out. I’m trying to breathe. What’s done is done. I showed up!
I’ve cleaned the house. I’ve worked out. I’ve taken a nap. I’ve cooked dinner. No distraction helps. No distraction frees me. I can’t take it back. I can’t call and say I’ve got the answer. Why won’t my brain let me rest? I don’t want to replay it. I absolutely do not. But it replays anyway.
So, this hike. I need something big right now. I need a solid accomplishment. I also need to get out of my house, out of myself! I think I have the physical stamina. Do I have the ability to be around others…strangers? Yet folks who are like minded. I’ve done short meet up hikes. I’m getting in my own way. I think I can do it.
But, will I?

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

Funny thing…Bipolar disorder

Funny thing
Having a mood disorder
When energy is low
Face is withdrawn
Language is sparse
Duh, depression
But..
When energy is good
Fluid even
Projects are complete
House is clean
Polaroid comes out for the moon
Vivid words used to describe
The actual moment at hand
I’m asked…
Are you moving fast
Or is it just me?
Gee.
I don’t fucking know
I’m over here just feeling
Pretty
Damn
Great
For a change
Pardon me for trying
To
Just live
Not merely survive

Caught in a Manic Moment

I felt my smile today. My cheeks widened. My eyes sparkled. A confident giggle just emerged. A sarcastic, witty statement fell off my tongue. My body was loose. I chose “provocative” clothing for the evening. A skip in my step turned into a slight twist and sashay of hips. I wanted attention. Craved it.
My previous slow wonderment was a blistering set of somewhat inappropriate questions. Firing off w out my recollection. At first they were at home, a big enough space to house them all. But when we moved to the car, my husband felt like he was under attack. He gave me that look..care, concern and annoyance all rolled into one. With a loud sigh he said the three words that signal something might be awry: are you okay? The underlying tone of urgency. Of, why now. Of, now I have to stay alert, floated in one ear and out the other.
I fired inquiries as to why he was ruining my vibe. It’s a good day. Nope, it’s an awesome day. Here I am, finally, completely available to you and you can’t handle it? It’s my gift to you. In return I receive an urgent follow up set of words: are you moving fast? Fast! Schmast! My energy is fluid. Pulsing through my mind, body and spirit. I tilt my head and become a little flirty. Suggest if he is a good boy he just might get an out of this world invitation to bliss. These are not my words. But they are delivered in such a way all questions ceased. Like a dripping candle, I was sizzling his skin with my heat.
I strutted around in my cowboy boots and overly tight shirt. Certain every man in the restaurant and later the bar, took notice. I sipped on water as if it was the finest vodka made in all of the land. I was careful to touch my husbands face, long hair and hands. But only for a moment. A tease. I don’t remember feeling my body until he caressed me. I think I was floating above. Alternating between sensual presence and depersonalization. An awkward shift was taking place.
I motioned him to the dance floor. Stomping my boots to feel the ground was just what I needed. He draped his arms across my shoulders and was pressing into me from behind. Once again I could feel him. Our juices flowing. Our need for each other growing. A sharp, and I mean, sharp laser pierced my mind. A lightning bolt of desire infiltrated me. But, not just for my husband. My eyes darted around the room looking for another man. Wait a minute. Please stop this madness. This is most certainly not me, not my line of thinking.
I break free and dance w wild abandon. Maybe if another comes to me it’s not the same thing. No initiation on my part. Trouble is, we were watching a solo acoustic singer songwriter. My husbands hands held me still. Perhaps reminding me wrong place, wrong time. I couldn’t stop moving. He hugged me and asked if I needed some air. I needed to be set free! This fierce drive was nothing I’ve ever felt before. I was alive. Awake. Fuck wonderment. This was decadent curiosity. This was out of bounds and enticing. Modest caution out the window.
My wise husband misses no signs. This was not his self effacing red haired freckled faced shy wife standing next to him. He held me close, but didn’t smother me. At first I resisted. He whispered he loved me over and over. We made our way back to the car unscathed. My body electric. The moon and the stars, warm dog days of summer nights ignited my insides. Typically my particular cocktail of meds ushers me to bed around 9:30. I was up well past 2 am. Brilliance encapsulating me. The race of ideas with no context or goal ricocheted around the room. They skidded along my blank page but left only an indiscernible mess.
I reached into the cavernous black hole of my medication shelf and pulled out the bottle “for emergencies.” It wasn’t critical mass, but maybe on the cusp. This newfound me felt risky. Exhilarating. But still risky. I washed them down with some shame, guilt and unsung empowerment. It’s for the best I told myself.
Late morning here I sit. Trying to piece it all together. I missed the signs. I just thought, for the first time in a long time, I was out in the world. Being seen. Being heard. In my body. And I was, for all the wrong reasons. It wasn’t me embracing myself. I was succumbing, unknowingly, to symptoms. I think there might be a difference.