Tag Archives: fear

The Moment in Change

Pen poised in mid-air,
with mind musing upon
the course of destiny,
vaguely wandering in
floating traipses
shooting off into future dreams
forgetting the moment
given in tender love
for cautious care.

So quickly do I flee
from the pressures of time
into a world of imaginary dreams,
mystical illusions and cryptic
messages – forgetting that
only through a full living
does the journey seem brighter
and the path clearer . . .

When caught between
past and future
I stand in terror,
eyes fearfully turning first
one way then another
but never straight ahead –
fogs swirl in clouded images
through the mind
leaving behind a tension
of confusion.

Today is only like any other . . .
the past is all that is seen,
the future lies in a heavy
cloak, blocking out fresh air.

But the moment – if relished
for itself – treasured among all
others for it’s radiance, its life –
is a gift of the gods
given to the weary
to instill hope and faith
that other moments such as these
are there for the taking
and just as freely given

 

Emptiness

The halls are empty,
rooms swirl with draft
not a soul in sight
save for the lonely body
of one who progressively
falls deeper and deeper still
in the well of silence

How did such a person
raise children who
are so very verbal
easily able to communicate
to share and receive

Is that it?
The fear to receive
words meant to hurt
cause cowering
rather than speaking
out for yourself
and being part
of the world

Better to hide
in drafty rooms
with books for friends
a cat for companion
safe but alone
drowning in emptiness

Glassy mirror

A curse carried heavily,
a bane weighing down
harsh truths –
brooking no means
of escape –
pushing me into black
rages of rabid,
green jealousy leaking
onto pure, clean surfaces.

Avoidance has no safety valve,
However the attempt
to glean a measure
of self-respect
was played – no hope
existed for exorcising you
from my mind.

My demon in black,
fiery splendor . . .
captivating, tantilizing
with a mysterious
seductiveness long
I have sought to gain.

All that was hated
but secretly worshipped
from distant reaches
was yours to possess . . .
desire and passion, holding souls in
calloused hands –
lightly tossed
in scrap heaps or charnel pits
never thrown away.

Wanting those trophies
to hang for all to se –
stuffed members from
a vanquished race.
While huddled on the sidelines
I watched one after another
fall by the slight
of your blade.
Envy burning
as each writhed, screaming,
squirming, crying for more.

Running in fear as
the blade turned toward me.
The journey has gone to
far reaches you may never know.
But now scales are balanced.

Contained within myself –
an identity all my own.
I prepare for the final meeting –
a battle of power,
flip sides of the same coin
embroiled in locked embrace.

Fiery black now lies
within and no more
will your subtle charms
devastate in blows
wounding feminine pride.
The war of hating-loving myself
has ended – you can be you –
not a mirror into
the glassy waters of me.
 

Cautious re-entry

Somewhere beneath angry words
and pain of hurt feelings
lies that love, small and private
between you and I.
Touch it . . .
reach beyond shallow fears,
with critical demands for perfection
and petty stabs of insecurity
to find, nestled in the hollows
of raw, aching need
that one fragment of emotion,
pure, untainted by abuse
and draw strength . . .
to search further than cruel torture
and bridge that yawning gap
so we might meet once again
in that private world of caring
found one night in the past,
and begin to renew our faith
in the love we have found
to search for peace,
a common ground of surrender
to love’s cautious ways.

Combatting Bipolar Disease on a daily basis

Do you know that old time hymn “I’ve got the Joy, Joy, Joy, Joy Down in my Heart . . . I’ve got the Peace of God, Peace of God Down in my Heart”? Well for me, and I suspect, most BiPolar people, that just doesn’t track. The cynic, and the disease, tug me away from those feelings.

For me, a wellspring of sadness and despair coat my linings, much like that Pepto Bismol commercial. Anxiety flavors the mix. My heart is treacly coated with the stuff. I can be laughing, giggling, joyful even, and still can touch that pain and despair, still feel the anxiety. There isn’t any distraction from it. Even with a stable medication regimen, anxiety pervades my consciousness and dreams. I am haunted by Depression.

Amnesty International’s latest annual report speaks to a paradigm shift worldwide into Depression and Despair writes Mark Kerstan on May 27, 2017. I suspect much of that is normal despair, not the kind of thing BiPolars’ experience, but still, it’s a frightening fact.

Moreover, we need to continually monitor our frustration and anger levels as they are two heads on the same coin. Our emotions can escalate and drop at alarming rates and anger is a seductive release from the pent-up pain we carry within.

Coping strategies that work for some, may not work for others. Know them, read up on the latest research and articles, but ultimately you may need to pick and choose among them to find out what works best for you. Millions globally find much relief in Mindfulness Meditation and even though I practiced it for a year, I just can’t slow down the chatter my mind offers up. I have found reading and writing work for me. So does housework. Repetitive activities comfort others – coloring, sewing, cooking. Music therapy is wonderful. Some swear by Affirmations – put a poster of them up on your wall for you to tap into.

I do try to observe negative coping strategies and reduce or eliminate them. Some practices simply serve to agitate me further. I look for something that works better. For instance, when the sorrow and anxiety grow too uncomfortable, I look for someone I trust to unburden myself upon. It sounds crappy, using someone like that, but I try to respect their decision to not listen when they choose or need to. If they accept that role, unburden away, get that pain out of you.

Ask yourself, Do I want to be in control? Is that what is making me squirrely? Antsy unrest, obsessive thinking, and nervous irritability are symptoms of Bipolar depression or mania, with possibly a co-existing anxiety disorder. Everything feels hopeless. The mountain is too hard to climb and I’ve run out of power bars and water. Or my body is too handicapped to even begin the walk, even on a flat surface I am limited. For me, its a sure reason for anxiety and depression. I hate my limitations. Fear builds because I see the never endingness of my life situation.

And don’t even get me started on Money, maintaining friendships, or dreamed of escaping, having sustainable, or any, social life. Seeing and being all those things I dreamed of escaping – sands through the hourglass – fear builds. Just the daily stress of life can prove too anxiety producing.

What it boils down to is relatively simple. Find coping strategies that work for you. Keep seeing a therapist. Talk to others about your feelings, keep on the right medication regimen for yourself. Practice Humility – give up the need to be in control. “Let Go and Let God”. Radical acceptance – forcing yourself to see things as they really are (although I sometimes prefer living in my fantasy world), and not as they should be, is a trending treatment. Pray – turn your burdens to a Higher Power. When I do that I experience a measure of peace for a while – and then have to start all over again.

Even with all the helpfulness available to us, we BiPolars have to realize that we have a Disease that is not going to magically disappear. There will be good times and bad. We just need to find our way through the morass and use the tools that work for us.

I dreamt you died

I dreamt you died last night
and a week went by before
I realized you had slipped
out of my consciousness
and into another of your choosing.
My heart bled little one,
I couldn’t imagine a life
without your shining face
reflecting back on mine.

You are the mirror of my madness,
the being who forces me
to resolve the tortured places within,
for if I don’t, yours is the life
most likely to suffer.

Parenting requires me to turn
my soul inside out,
like shaking pennies from a piggy bank,
seeing what it holds,
then stuffing them back in again,
known commodities.

Each day forces you to examine
your premises, expectations,
under a finely tuned microscope
until I am sure,
cemented in the knowledge
I am offering all that is best . . .
releasing the worst . . .
before irrevocable damage happens
to the sponge of your young mind.

Each day I awaken
to a little mourning,
a small keening of my soul,
for your encroaching lack of innocence,
the slow evolvement from purity
to detachment and
a rethinking of how life is
forced by big and little
tragedies of your days.

If I could hold you back,
heal your wounds,  I would.
In owning my responsibility to you,
my spirit must strength,
while letting go of control,
so you can be the adult meant to be,

and be free, wholly yours
so as not to not die week before I notice.

esmeralda with her hair

 

I’ll leave you behind

I’ll leave you behind
I bitterly cried
as I glared in the mirror
at a face ravaged by pain,
bloated with frustration
fed with rage and despair

But my child,
the quiet voice said
there are no chains around you.
Only your own fear
kept your eyes blind
to keep the radiant freedom
which was always within you,
could  not be chained
could not die, but slumbered,
waiting for conscious mind
to know her truth.

The walls, the limits, the boundaries
are only the product of fear.
True freedom was always
unblemished and held..

Soul chainer you were only,
ever, the visible reflection of me.

 

#everydayinspirations Prompt – Image

Chosen Image – Girl standing, looking into a forest

Scratching and clawing up the mountain, pushing through trees with long, sharp thorns, I started working my way through the pain and rage I felt.

Back at or family’s summer cabin, my parents were involved in a heated argument, sitting in chairs in the front yard. I have never been one who was highly vocal – my feelings were mine to keep.  However, when I heard that horrid, devastating word “Divorce”, I lit into them.  My fourteen year old self called the dogs and took off, trying to get as far away from the turmoil as I could.

Crossing the creek, I followed a late summer trickle of a mountain stream, rugged with sharp rocks at all angles. The stream fed the creek, with watercress and mint planted in its waters at the base. After scrambling over boulders, I got as far as I could before the boulders were too big to crawl over. I entered the land of thorns, shorter trees bearing inch long thorns throughout. It was a much larger area than I realized for in all the years we had been here in the summer, I hadn’t climbed the mountain.

Somehow, whenever major messages come from God, prickers and thorns are always a part of it  They don’t leave scratches or cuts – they are for the struggle and learning.  They are to get my attention, for the struggle of understanding.

Finally, I entered a glen as the thorns I passed away from. A huge tree had fallen, its root system an incredibly mosaic reaching to the sky. I was captivated, staring at the myriad lines the branches made.

Beyond was a barbed wire fence with a hunting road leading to a large fallow field.  A tiny cabin stood at the top. I crossed the road, easing my way through the barbed wire on both sides to a lush, soft green forest.  It was a fairy land. As I eased myself onto a log I could see moss climbing trees, grass ankle high. I breathed in the pure air and completely relaxed.  Moments later a young doe wandered to within 10 feet of me. We looked at each other, then she went back to nibbling the grass.  I couldn’t remove my eyes from her smooth, delicate beauty

A few minutes later the dogs came bounding back from their explorations. The doe took on look and high-tailed it away from their noisiness. Time to go. Crossing through the barbed wire, I decided to take the road down and the three of us started back downhill.

Back at home, all was quiet.  To my young eyes, my parents seemed to at least have called a truce.  My parents didn’t say a word to me but I was left with the feeling I had shaken them up a bit, and brought the tension they had so forcefully had earlier.

The lessons learned?:
a. State your truth.  It is right and appropriate to open your mouth and let others know how you feel
b. After life’s thorns comes beauty
c.  If you are not afraid, you won’t spread fear#everyday

 

 

 

We Are Not Our Disease

I was recently in California, visiting a dear friend. She was crushed because she realized the Depression she had lived with for years was, instead, Bipolar I. A lot of her feelings were based on the fact hat her husband of 11 years has severe Depression/Bipolar.   She was the one who always took care of everything. The previous several months had been very hard on her. She spent a lot of time in her bed; her therapist quit; she had her husband were building a house from the studs up. Her Mother of Conflict and her heavily drinking brother were making her life crazy and her Mother subsequently died.  Major factors were making her life miserable. However, I’m not the Doctor and while I think she’s right – she bought a 27 acre, beautiful property against the warnings of her husband – she needs a trained professional to verify she , indeed, has the condition.

However, all of this got me thinking.  I had been in a down mood prior to going to California, but was rejuvenated there.  My moods shift more often than before.  Sometimes I can’t tell what mood I am experiencing. I thought I was only Depressed for years but while looking back over journals 35 years old, I noticed I was definitely Bipolar then.  Next, I started thinking of being Bipolar in general.  There are all sorts of nuances, facets, depths and ambiguity in Bipolar people. It looks different in each person and from day to day. There are things you can do to limit intensity like staying on meds and eating right.

We struggle some days, bounce off the walls some days, and feel great and balanced on yet other days (which might really be you are on a manic high).  But largely, we are like a lot of people on the streets and in the stores.  Most people in this world have issues of one kind or another. We don’t have to minimize ourselves just because of our disease. We are not our disease! We are human beings with scars and wounds, just like so many others,  I, for one, will try like hell not to wear my disease as a cloak around me, because I want to be as healthy as possible.  And I know most of us feel the same way.