I think this is a real problem with me; I get overly pedantic about organization, writing quality, and proper structure, and lose track of the real reason why I am writing in the first place (as a recreational pursuit for the enjoyment of myself and others - I am not writing a business report).
I should write this blog as I write in my journals, and in my word document folders on my computer - freely and without inhibition.
So, here goes.
The last week or so I feel my mood swings have lessened, and become more manageable. For the first time I am looking forward, and planning, rather than living only in the moment, from one moment to the next, hoping nothing bad will happen.
I feel as though my brain is clearing, my sanity is returning, and there's less of a divide between my inner voice (my true self, looking on helpless and horrified) and my emotional thoughts and corresponding actions.
I have thought about all kinds of gruesome ways I could die, or kill myself during lows. Some of the more memorable ones included falling on the glass wall of the pool from a great height and being sliced clean in half, and drinking the entire contents of the alcohol cupboard at home.
Once when I was really down, so that my vision was sort of disconnected/unreal, and I was so heavy moving was a big effort, I tried to rouse myself by walking to the park. When I got there I wrote in my diary. Then I walked across the bridges to the video store, then home, and I wrote some more.
I think some of what I've experienced is best captured in poetry. I will share a few poems written during this time.
Bipolar
I feel so intensely alive I want to die
My mind is spinning and I don’t know why
Nobody can help me, but nobody can try
Nothing can save me from this turmoil inside
I’m grieving
Anguished grieving for immortality
I want what nature has denied to me
I want the power to transcend mediocrity
I don’t understand.
An aspect of me still alive
Is horrified at my demand
It isn’t what I planned
I am ashamed
My tumultuous thoughts are out of control
I cannot contain any sense at all
I am embroiled in ambition’s tortuous thrall
Transcend into hell.
Division
A division
Split into two entities
One black, the other white
Hide the darkness deep within
So only I may know my sin
Purity.
The whiteness expands, sublimates all surrounding it
People are bathed in whiteness
Drenched in white
Saturated in white
The darkness festers…
Ambition
The monster rises within
Ready to drown out my logic
Ready to shame me into unravelling,
I could burn up inside
With gut wrenching emotions
Brought on by this disease,
This possessing.
Ambition is a cancerous canker blossom,
Best avoided,
Best immunized against,
Incurable once it has taken hold.
Once ambition gets its hold on you, it will feed off your happiness, your sadness, your laughter, and your tears. It will take everything, until all that is left inside you is a pulsating monster driving you onwards into eventual, inevitable, self-destruction. A euphoric addiction.
Glorious suicide.
Hive
Sinking, sinking
Is this a bucket without a bottom?
Weeping, writhing,
Will stability be forgotten?
I’m lost in transit
Somewhere between the here and now
A foreign perspective
Unreal, insubstantial somehow.
Can I escape-
This tumble dryer of thought
Can I survive-
Exploring the hive?
Sunlight-Blinded
Standing in space
Out of place
A step to the right–
Open water
A step to the left–
Burning highway
Straight ahead–
Who knows?
My head hangs low
I cannot lift it from my heaving chest.
I am suspended in non-reality
Walking a straight line tightrope
Blinded
By eyes that can’t see right
Fearless forward motion
In bright sunlight.
SPIN DOCTOR
High
Fly like a kite
Don’t bend, don’t be rigid
Can’t break
Can’t breathe—
My mind is jumping that fast
Don’t believe
All the tales they spin for you
Don’t take
One more tablet tonight
Don’t break.
Caitlin, the living for the now is something Chris Mitchell told me about. I think meditation and Buddha or some ways to help apparently.
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