Hello all you wizards of words, it’s been a while since I blog. Well not true, I write everyday but a lot of my material doesn’t see the light of day. This thought, however, I been working on for a while now. I finally got the idea incoherent sentences because not everyone speaks Sunny Larue right. With this blog post I’m taking a different approach. Many of my ideas for a blog are inspired by my journal entry. When I tackled this reincarnation, I promised to be truthful in regards to my mental disorder or “Chum”. In fact, to be as brutally honest not matter how hard the topic is. Well what’s more honest then journal entries. I been holding back this side of my Chum. It’s very scary place the the dark side of my Chum. It’s a place of the unknown with little to no control. The links throughout this post are materials that helped me get through this episode.
This post is from my journal entry titled: “The High Card” May 30, 2019
It’s Monday and I am sick to my stomach. This is the situation as of late. Going to a place of work where I’m the villain it’s not fun. Dealing with a coworker who constantly bullies me not fun. It’s a fight I find myself losing. She makes damn sure I know where my place is. She’s the alpha-dog and she has the big boss on her side. I been at the end of this person wrath for the past four years and it’s non-stop. The last incident “incident number four” was of epic battle. One would say it’s the battles seen in the movies. Just a knock down bad situation. Just mentioning it here might come back to bite me but lets just say She-Devil was right. No matter what she do, she will always have a job. I believe it. She’s like a cat with ninety-nine lives always landing on her feet. She can come shoot me in the back of the head go to jail and get out and come back to her position. I wonder is all this unnecessary struggling worth my mental state? But let’s leave the job thing here.
Let’s go back to the weekend. I always look forward to the weekend. This weekend was pretty nice. The crew (my friends) and I still dealing with the unexpectant loss of our friend so for us getting out and about really felt good. Friday evening was spent with family. Just kicking back not really doing much of anything but talking. My great-nephew got his first phone. He’s turning twelve soon, so this is a big responsibility for him. We spent all Friday evening texting each other. Bless his little heart, it’s amazing the mind of a child and what’s important to them. Saturday was pretty much the same accept I spent it with the crew. We took in a movie (which I wrote a review) and had the world’s best pepperoni pizza. Again just spent the time laying low. Sunday was relaxing did some binge watching, caught up on reading, writing, watched the Dodger game and did my weekly laundry. Again, nothing exciting just really a laid-back vibe. That evening I went to be early. I closed my eye and several hours later it’s Monday AM.
Buster, my google home assistant wakes me up every morning at five-thirty with a snooze time of ten minutes at which time Buster turns on the shower. A warm seventy-seven point five degrees. I mean Buster pretty much runs my home life, he even turns on the coffee maker. I’m up and now looking at myself in the bathroom mirror. Sometimes when I look at myself, I can hardly recognize the face staring back. I see all the laugh lines, crows’ feet and gray hairs signs of getting up in age, every line tells a story of a person who struggles with a mental disorder. How she views herself. How the world views her. Sometimes I see a woman who is embarrassed by living a life as a manic depressive. Most times I see someone who is ugly, not happy and struggle to find peace in a chaotic world that dances between delusional and reality.
Let me explain, May of twenty-eighteen I found myself again, I blogged about it (Repair My Armor). To have the spark back and that sense of invincibility, knowing yourself worth is something that money can’t buy. That armor, however, have seen many battles. My armor an impenetrable force or so I thought. It’s quite different now. Over the course of experiencing life trauma my disorder or Chum slowly chipped away at that armor. The visits from my Chum has become stronger and more frequent. I started seeing that person in the mirror getting uglier and uglier. I don’t mean ugly in a sense of vanity. I mean ugly in the sense of being broken. Being broken means that some people are afraid of you or some people pity you. It’s rare to find people who understand you.
National Alliance On Mental Illness (NAMI)
1-800-950-NAMI (6264) or firstname.lastname@example.org NAMI HelpLine
For some reason I keep getting lost in the shuffle. It’s like being in a deck of cards you have the high cards like the ace, king, queen and jack that represent the society elitist. They dictate the terms of how things are. They are viewed as high valued and perfect. Then there’s the face cards of ten, nine, eight and seven. These cards aren’t perfect but are highly valued and deems acceptance of normality by society. It’s what most of us wants to be accepted as “normal.” Then there’s the low face cards of six, five, four, three and two. These cards are the worst place to be. It means society doesn’t want you at the black jack table. Unfortunately, this is where most people struggling with mental illness lives. It means as a low card you have to work extra hard at achieving a better place in the deck. Like I said, some people are afraid and some people show pitty. It’s rare to find someone who understands.
It may seem like I’m all over the place with this thought, but I am not. I’m simply trying to explain what life is like living with a mental disorder or illness. It’s a very dark and lonely place. Sometimes I feel like I been sentence to life and manic depression is my prison cell. It’s very difficult to speak because when you talk about this disorder, people can mistakenly take it as you being an narcissist ass. Clearly not the case. I miss that brave and fearless girl. I wish I can get her back but as we grow, somethings we must leave behind and that careless but brave child is one. Today I will struggle, suffer in my own private Hell as for tomorrow who knows I guest we have to wait and see.
For more reads in my Confessions of a Depressive Mind Series try these…..
Repair My Armor
Crying In The Shadows
My Big Brother
Confessions of a Depressed Mind
Over The Hump
Welcome to the Dance
In the Trenches
Diary of a Manic Depressive
Bite Your Lips
Chicken Soup for the Soul
Closed for Business
Until next time…..