Tag Archives: fear

Anorexia

In the space between two breaths
she is caught unaware, unknowing –
having spent a short lifetime
eternally busy, frenetically paced
always in motion,
never internally directed –
she is lost, adrift,
her skills and talents
not having prepared her
for rejection, for misdirected words –
she has never allowed
for this contingency,
Who is she beyond the accolades,
the activities, the endless
leadership roles –
what lies beneath?
What feelings exist
in her picket fenced heart
which let in undulating waves
of anguish
filtering out love, trust, kindness.
Like a drug she moves
in perpetual motion –
running, leading, moving, teaching
no reflection of hows or whys
attempting to fill the void with verbs,
no static, resolute exploring
of hidden secrets and mysteries
which hold the heart’s true measure.
No breaking through the resistance.
The moments have arrived
when razor sharp clarity
begs for expression,
where it chips away subterfuge
so real work can begin,
to explore the dim reaches of the soul
to enter terms with
the bald face of reality,
finally unmasked, stripped,
laid bare, but . . .
will she take
the proffered challenge
to grow, or backpedal,
rewind the inner tape
until she can splice, edit,
a produce a facsimile
of the original in its unedited form,
honoring the pain motion covered
the fear leadership masked,
the need unhinged in teaching,
all the imports of a life
skated over in terror and avoidance

Your Rage

You – so full of youthful righteousness
from resolve etched in fear
slipping down the planes and lines
of your furrowed brow
glowering your rage and frustration
despair flung out, rolling in waves
warding off the heavens
with its glad tidings
and earnest appeal
granting no access within
wanting only to ward off all
who might crack through
that thin veneer and reach
the fragile underpinnings
of your heart
Try to remember dear one
all words are not weapons
some hold elements of honesty
to the eyes and mind of another

You are safe
though you choose to fear it
your childlike emotions
do not threaten me
Safe may not look like you
envisioned it
but safe nonetheless
You are loved little one
You are loved

Failure

There is a name I call myself
thrust down deep, not voicing aloud
for fear it will be more outwardly
manifest – Failure.

Others may call me Strong,
Committed, Spirited, Feisty,
Pushing through the Dark Times
to come through Stronger.
Pointing out the accomplishments
I have made, the great gains
managed at high cost.

But inside I know
there were other choices
which could have made me
Great, Successful, Healthy
not clothed in Fear –
and so, the bottom line
is that of Failure.

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