Hello all you keepers or words, today blog post hits a bit closer to home as it involves dealing with mental health specifically my diagnosis. I have been very open about my bipolar disorder in doing so blogging about something that is so personal it’s hard I’m not going to lie but being on this constant rollercoaster ride trying to seek answers to new questions it’s tough. Through therapy and support I learned some valuable tools that helps when in the mist of an episode.
This blog is based upon my personal perspective and experience dealing with a disorder.
The research of this blog is for informational purpose.
I am not a doctor or a license healthcare worker.
If you are experiencing thoughts of suicide or self harm call 911 immediately.
Hello masters and mistresses of words, today blog post is inspired by songs by my favorite artists. These songs best describes the battle I currently find myself fighting. This week has been a hellish nightmare, a nightmare I can’t find myself out of. My armor is worn out tarnished, you can see the cracks deeping. I fear at this rate my armor I so depend will all be gone. It’s scary to hold onto something that most people think is insignificant. To me this shield my armor is a matter or life or death.
Today I am feeling lower than I can possibly go. It’s shows. My emotions are compromised and my strength my armor is slowly being chipped away. With every frown or crossed stare I get from the powers to be, a crack appears on my armor. If I stay here in this space, I fear there won’t be anything left. It’s like that situation where you’re in a crowded room enjoying the scene then that evil force walks in sucking all the air and life out that’s how the current work space is. Here it’s quite clear we all play by a different set of rules. I should know this by now. Naivety I hoped things would get better but with each inopportune moment is a slap in the face. Yes they talk a good game but the truth is there’s no room for growth well if you are me in my position. With all my experience the only thing I am good for is to sit here answering the few calls that comes through.
I come to the conclusion when writing or blogging a thought or an idea to be honest. When I write my words are a result from something traumatic in my life. These moments are like reflections. Just like one would see a reflection in a mirror, words for a blogger/writer are just as such. I find myself staring more and more at my words which are very emotional, raw, powerful and sometimes painful. Sometimes these emotions can be very difficult to face. It’s especially difficult putting yourself out on social media where the trolls thrive. I often ask myself “is it worth the risk?”
Driving down this road hatred fills my eyes. Seeing red, I can feel the flames burning inside. Waiting for that one slip up to release the beast that dances within. Cool as the morning dew sweetly fills the air, still can’t stop this living hell I am in. The more I drive down this dangerous road the more I feel alive and ready to fight. Lying in wait, to pull the pin to explode. Looking in the rear view mirror I see the road I left behind. Plenty of rocks left in my wake to over take that turn. It’s all in the past now as I look forward still reeling with this anger. Coming to the stop light blinker on left turn, then another left turn pulling into the drive of the fortress of destitute, realizing another nightmarish hell. Seeing that brick wall I’m about to come crashing into just accepting this is my fate.
I don’t know where I am in the grand scheme of things. My head feels like a merry-go-round spinning in circles a never-ending circle. I want to stop, I need to stop but I can won’t you help me. Everything hurts, every words, laugh and cry is painful too sensitive to act too sad to be happy I need love to light the way. I am a prisoner to this fate bleak drowning deeper into the sea of void sinking lower than Moby Dick’s occupants. Not lacking in faith, wishing for a band-aid to cover the scab I’m slowing picking at, screaming in a crowded room with no one looking up not evening giving a glance I’m here with this demon. A constant companion these days speaks to me in ways no one can comprehend. Scared no, just concerned that my mind is no longer my own. Fighting the good fight staying above water in the hopes that one day this dynamic dance will be done.
Uncontrollable thoughts I have many of them. I’m a manic-depressive, what do you expect. These thoughts seem to come out of nowhere causing great distress. I find myself at the of the pen staring at pages of lists I created out of nowhere and for no apparent reasons. It’s quite stressful trying to organize my chaotic thoughts. My pattern is always the same which I found to be strangely ironic. I will start an idea write it down spend time on it then lose interest. When I go back I feel there’s nothing to go back too just a bunch of blah, blah. Sometimes I can’t keep things straight. I feel like my head is a cork-board filled with thousands post-it-notes. Every note is a piece of a puzzle I’m trying to put together. Once the puzzle is complete I now have to find away to express these thoughts to the outside world in away that is healthy. The stress is unbearable I’m thrown into a world that is dark with no light at the end of the tunnel. All my thoughts are lost in the sea of nameless void prompting me to start all over. I really need to STOP and PAUSE because this adds to my stress level and heavens knows we do not need anything else adding to the state of confusion I already feel.
Call me nuts that’s okay as they say a nut a day keeps the insane sane. My behavior shows a level of difference for I am not the same as all of you. It’s in the mind, my mind running thousand miles a minute shuffling through every idea analyzing every thought. It takes me time to catch up but don’t worry I will catch up. In this world my nuttiness is normal, here in this world everything I do makes sense. It’s only when I’m around this table do I see the dark. My soul is intact, my verbal skills doesn’t lack the need to be expressive. All my senses are alive and well thank you for asking. I’m not sure if it’s the meds or just a good day but what ever this is I hope it stays. I enjoy the feeling of controlled nuttiness.
Twenty-nineteen started with an uncertainty I had no idea of what’s to come but I spent the last few weeks of twenty-eighteen stressing about it. I don’t know why but I have this sick obsession of trying to control the future. I worry about things and events that haven’t happened yet. The anxiety is quite overwhelming but what makes this worse is that I put myself in this position. I willingly make myself go nuts trying to control something that is uncontrollable.
They say beauty is in the eye of the beholder and yet as I stand here looking at the mess in the mirror I beg to differ. I’m not a beauty nor do I feel pretty. What I see is quite the opposite. I see ugly, useless, dirty person with no future. I wish I can be pretty, as pretty as the actress that grace the silver screen. I wish I can be pretty, as pretty as those models who are splashed on the cover of sports magazines. I wish I can be pretty, as pretty as the girl sitting across from me on the bus. I wish I had better eyes to see what you see a beautiful girl.