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

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Emotional Upheaval

Feels like it all happened in slow motion. He was in the kitchen asking me a question about the day ahead. He says it was a simple question. I heard something entirely different. My body filled with heat and anger. I leaned forward on the couch and unloaded words of hatred. They shot across the room w venom. This is not who I am. I then rose to my feet and vile came spewing out of my mouth. This is not who I am. Shame surrounded me. I felt trapped. The only thing I knew to do was run. Out of control and desperate I fled the scene.
This emotional upheaval actually began the night before. My sponsor always told me we are as sick as our secrets. It’s not a new phenomenon that I withhold information. This time, I chose not to tell my husband I quit taking my meds. The funny part is, and this is the honest truth, I was cleaning the bathroom and declaring to myself I MUST tell him. I would absolutely find “the right time” this very weekend. I didn’t know the phone rang and I certainly didn’t know it was my psychiatrist calling at 6pm on a Friday night. Shit hit the fan fast.
She was in my ear saying how worried she was I am not taking any medication at all. He was in my sight worried I was receiving this phone call knowing something wasn’t right. I just wanted to yell at everyone to leave me alone. How very selfish of me to want people to not care about me. How very selfish of me to make an important decision about meds and not include my husband. It’s called keeping a secret. I need to get honest and real.
I am not a malicious person. My attempt to keep information secret was not meant to hurt him. Although, that’s exactly what it did.
Back against the wall I came clean. Stopped all meds cold turkey about a month ago. Ups and downs continue. Suicidal thoughts continue but I am making it through so far. I did not share that I had agonized all night about jumping off a bridge on my return home from my business trip. In my mind, no reason to take meds. If I die, I die. I am still selective in what I want to share.
Catching you back up..morning comes and we are both harboring feelings from last night. I yell and scream, grab my keys and bail. So many emotions fill my car..guilt, shame, fear, sadness. I drive around aimlessly for a while alone with my thoughts. Its time I take responsibility for this illness. For my one sided decisions. For my over reactions. The road laid ahead of me. My future in front of me. I know this much: this is not who I want to be. I drove until all those emotions no longer took up space.
I didn’t rush home to make amends, but I did eventually return. I’ll spare you all the details of what ensued upon my arrival home as it was not pretty. I am hopeful that it was productive. I shed many tears as I listened to how hurt he felt, how he wonders if at the root of all this disease is my unhappiness w him, how he worries everyday I am going to hurt myself. I was able to tell him I don’t know how to let him into my darkness. I told him I didn’t want him to know what I think, the places my mind goes.
After many minutes of intense silence, he said this is the most honest conversation we have had for months.
i think we have come to an unconscious don’t ask don’t tell mentality. We are both scared and dancing around each other. I do think I do much more dancing and juggling than he does.
There isn’t a lack of deep love between us. Darkness effects the family as a whole. While I’m in my pit trying hard to cover up my fall in an effort to “protect” him from me, all I’m doing is creating more space between us. That for sure is NOT productive.
I still have to figure out if medication is going to play a role in my recovery. What I learned today is that not including my husband in the equation is not an option. He wants to support me. But he simply can’t if I won’t let him. My task is to learn how to let him.

Medication Chronicles

I want so badly not to need medication. I play with fire and just slowly stop taking them. I’m not convinced they are truly making a difference. I arbitrarily take my lithium here and there and there are other times I have been in compliance for 6 months straight. No difference. Mood swings all over the place. Intense anxiety. Deep depression. Suicidal ideation. Mania. Doesn’t matter. My closest attempt occurred when I was taking 3 medications religiously.
I worry about my thyroid, my liver. I’ve had almost all my hair fall out and a dangerous rash. One med made me so restless and agitated I had to stop taking it. My doctor is convinced lithium is working because I’m still here. Is that the marker for success? I can be suffering non stop, but as long as I don’t jump its all good. That’s no quality of life. I wholeheartedly disagree. But, I’m running out of options. I’ve tried all the med combos, even including an antidepressant w my mood stabilizer.
I don’t know. I seem to be “okay” not taking meds right now. I do still take trazadone because I absolutely cannot sleep on my own. I worry I’m dependent on it, but without sleep I become more vulnerable to symptoms. This dance isn’t very comfortable. I tend to want to be the lead. The voice in my head tells me I may need meds but they don’t truly help me. They poison me. Maybe my body and mind are treatment resistant.
I open the small cabinet that houses my medication shelf each night. I stare in. Blue bottle tops blur together. I’m not necessarily overwhelmed as I am sad.

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.

Change

The world is full of lies
Manipulations
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