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Sunday Morning

“The worst thing that can happen to you, is allowing yourself to die inside while you’re still alive.”

There was nothing extraordinary about today. The sun rose and set as any other day; the breeze whispered the silent snores of those I love around me. I could see the birds gently tweeting and chatting away as they swung to the breeze of another Sunday morning. I wiped the sleep from my eyes and placed one foot after the other on the ground. I knew the promises I had made to myself that very night. I didn’t take them lightly or say them  prematurely. I let out a deep sigh, allowing myself to fully take in the battle that would be placed before me.

After years of fighting, comprises and endless breakups; It was finally over. I had awakened, as I had slept. Peaceful, hopeful and ready for the journey.  There hadn’t been a storm that made me see what needed to be done. There was no physical altercations or police interference. It’s funny that way, I suppose. All this time I have been waiting for something that I could point too as proof, so that I wouldn’t feel so crazy inside. A divine intervention from the lord above and it never turned out to be that way at all.

It was the little things, the small specs of disappointment, the chips that he continued to nick at time after time, until there was nothing left.   It was nights I spent alone waiting for his text or call, while watching my calls go straight to voicemail at 5 am. It was the fear I saw in my eyes when he raised his voice and the anxiety I felt whenever he appeared.

Of course it wasnt always bad, he loved me, that much I knew to be true. He helped when I asked, he adored me and uplifted me when he could. He loved our children and was dependable. Like I said though, It was the small things that piled one on top of another and became habitual. The talking down to me in front our children, the laughing at my expense, the temper tantrums and endless suspicious looks.

I rose and felt free for the first time in 18 years. Free to feel how I wanted to feel and not depend on someone else’s mood to dictate that. That morning came with promise and an unexpected energy that I hadn’t seen in years. In the midst of his sleep, I collected my things and my car keys to escape into the day. A day that was filled with laughter, shopping, movies and fun.  I sent not one text, not one call and it suited me fine.

Something changed that cannot be explained. Maybe it’s like that song …when a women’s fed up”? Who’s to say but I felt different and I welcomed it with wide arms.  When I returned later that day, I saw him and watched as he dismissed me as part of the living room furniture. Nothing but coldness in his eyes and none of which showed me the man I had once come to love. He had always chosen others before me, I was simply a comfortable shoe. I had come to understand that and once even accepted it as my life’s story. All that had failed though because existing to not fight was not a life that I could bear any longer.

I had once asked my mother when she knew it was over? When did she know for sure that she wasnt making a mistake. She told me it was the day you no longer cared. Of course she still hurt and missed him but for the first time that seemed like a vacation compared to staying. It’s the moment that fighting seemed pointless and though to the outside world we looked perfect; on the inside we were simply dripping in cover up.

He told me if I wanted to leave than go. When I asked where he was the night before he stated he was with the very people who had nothing nice to say about me, as I’m sure neither did he. Than looked at me and said “why, is there a problem with that?” How had I not seen this before? The monster I helped to create. Entitled, hurtful, disengaged and predictable. He had been this way for so long and I had fought to not see it. How did It come to be that I allowed someone to treat my heart so carelessly.

My mother was right. It didn’t break me, it simply assured me of what I already knew.

I deserve better.

So as this Sunday turns to-night and I lay my head down in the guest room to rest. I feel full of hope that one day I will rise with all of this miles and miles behind me. Until than I remind myself that I deserve better….

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Seeing Past This….

With a clarity that was long overdue, I awakened. The hearts and the flowers – they all brought things into sharp focus. For many years I’d been paralysed with doubt. That’s the insidiousness of it. By degrees, like a frog being boiled – before you know it, you’re soup.

When it’s good, it’s great: endless snuggles and  laughs; he essentially cherishes the ground you walk on. When it’s bad: the constant criticism, the sulks, the explosive rages, the intimidation, the isolation – it’s so relentless, lonely and bewildering, you start to doubt reality. “Maybe it is me?” you think. You say sorry. You percede to try harder.

It took time to see how scared I was, to realise how my sense of self had disappeared. I had come to understand, that it was my fault one way or another. Had I not yelled back from frustration, if I would have put my head down and accepted his words as fact, If I could just be perfect. A part of me felt sorry for him because he believed what he felt and I suppose I would have to, had my feelings directed me to but ultimately I couldnt continue to ignore the truth.

The truth was it wasnt all me. The truth was he didnt see clearly. The truth was he needed his pills to help calm him. The undeniable realization that he may never relax and manage his temper came flooding in. I so dispeareatly wanted the guy that was happy and good to me to always be present. I feared for the one that wasnt. When would he appear, what would I do to cause his appearance?

“Why doesn’t she just leave?” is an ignorant question. There is a pattern to abuse: how it starts, escalates, and how it messes with your mind. Especially since all those involved dare not even call it that. The word abuse suddenly refers to mass beatings and death threates. You never think to accept that, intimidation , threats and name calling is a form of control. You never stop to think that you did nothing to possibly deserve an unexpected smack in your face or punch in your eye. No matter what, the double standard places him in control and you at the bottom of his feet.

You inherit his logic because its easier than facing reality.

“It wasnt that bad”

“I didn’t hit you that hard”

“It’s your fault”

“You made me angry”

“I’m this way because of you”

Guilt, intimidation and fear cause you to look the other way and bury your pain, that you have convinced yourself isnt real.

I read once that “If you are forced to alter your behaviour because you are frightened … you are being abused.” When being told to “detach with love”  or to “stop playing the victim” run. You are being victimised. I’m all for boundaries, but they are futile against a bulldozer.

He’s not doing it because he’s drunk, stressed, insecure, had a terrible cheating ex, is mentally ill, or because his mother dropped him on his head when he was a baby. He’s doing it because he feels he has a right to do it. He truly believes that his actions are justified. He doesnt empathize with me and doesnt see or care about the pain he leaves behind.

Sometimes I question if I truly know what love is, but I know it’s not warm and fuzzy feelings – it’s actions, it’s what you do. I have to stay true to that.

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Grey

Holding it all together through the pitfalls,

Breathing in and out as you concentrate on the sounds of the world around you

Fear and sadness, an old friend that has taken up residence

The over exaggerated smiles and laughter filling up the room for all to witness

Masquerading the truth from all that can see and hear

Stay, leave, Stay, leave

A dangerous game that begs a decision

An undeniable ultimatum that craves a choice

Plastering a smile on a sad face, carries its weight with time,

They whisper and nod as you walk by,

You talk of a life that doesn’t exist, to hide the one that does

You bow your head down in privacy and hold yourself tight

There is no comfort to reach for

No friends

No family

Just you, him and the gut wrenching reality.

Drink, smoke and bury it all

Hide behind a mask of perfection while everything around bleeds to grey

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You just don’t understand

I didn’t want another baby. I wanted you.

I held my face in the sun light praying for the energy to feel. To feel anything but this pain that overwhelmes me. This hurt that overtakes my very being.

Scrapping whatever happiness I can find to fuel my existence. I’m dying to survive.

Crying through broken smiles and invisible tears. Hiding this storm in my heart that  only I see.

I cry for the two babies I have lost, for the hearts that no longer beat inside of me. I muster up the will to go on but emptiness fills the void that has manifested in their absence.

The kind but angering words of strangers only pull me back further into the burrow I have created for myself to hide. The lack of understanding has enriched this anger I have festered in.  He/She is no longer living inside of me but this love goes on.

You just don’t understand.

I never held it or heard it cry and I wasn’t ready to say goodbye. I held all these hopes and plans that never will come to pass.

I cry for her in the night.

It hurts so much, and no one can make it right.

Though they try, with kind words and reassurance of at least you can have another….

But…..you just don’t understand.

I don’t want another. I wanted her. I wanted the feeling of fullness that my tummy felt when I knew she was growing inside. I wanted to know that my body could be the safety that she needed in order to grow. The ultimate betrayal when your body cannot sustain the life you love.

The embarrassment and rejection runs deep.  You have nothing to be embarrased about, they say.

You just dont understand.

I’m sorry that you didnt make it.

If love alone could have saved you,

You never would have died.

I know the pain that drowns my soul, What I was forced to face.

Drowning in puddles of blood, searching for your face.

They just dont understand.

God doesn’t make mistakes.

But that won’t soften the worst blow.

Or make my heart not ache.

I didn’t get a chance to say “Hello.”

you never said “Goodbye.”

I didn’t think that I could feel

so sad, lost and forlorn.

I never knew God chose his Angels

before some of them were born.

Because to be honest, you just dont understand.

They say love is blind, and you made this true

I never got to place you in an outfit either pink or blue

A space where life once stirred, My eyes were not yet seeing,

Where once my heartbeat shared a tone, with a small and fragile being

So scarcely formed yet still a life. you were a dream, a hope, a promise

Our plans were changed to now include, this new life thrust upon us

Then just as quickly as it came, my dreams were gone away

The deepest pain I’ve ever felt, was when I heard our baby died today.

You just dont understand

With footprints left upon my hearts, he/she gently took their leave

I’m left with nothing but regret and only time to grieve and with each word of sorrow

my teardrops fall like rain,

The anger and resentment are mixed with guilt and pain,

I have to look to heaven for a sign in order to help search out a course

Where love can teach acceptance and eliminate my remorse

My body will eventually accept the truth, that now my baby’s gone

But in my heart, my Angel, you live on.

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Living with Dysthmia

As I open my eyes for the start of a new day, I am hopeful. I awaken with a chipper exterior and a life that cannot be contained. I envision the day, its stressors and beneficial highlights. I plan accordingly and seek all the positivity that this world can offer. The daily routine of applying make up to the gospel word, kissing my loved ones good-bye and driving an hour to work as I blast music the whole way through.

Enjoying the day with an extreme amount of enthusiasm all the while hearing the gnawing voice within. The one that creeps in when the end of the day is in sight. The anxiety builds and in a brief moment I think to myself, I miss him. I want to snuggle and feel his everlasting warmth, to kiss the smile on his lips as it forms. I naively think that he will be all the things I allow myself to envision and dream of.

A rude awakening always emerges itself in some form or another. A late night at the office, a text message or email from a male coworker or a misspoken word; can suddenly bring me back to the reality of my life.

My spouse has dysthymia.

He screams at me as I trudge in after a long night of work.

“Where were you?”

“Why did you not answer?”

“Who were you with?”

I plan a day at the gym with friends and it continues…

“You are easily influenced, so gullible.”

“You don’t need to work out”

“Just come home and eat and relax”

You find yourself “walking on eggshells”, never knowing what you will do to set him off.  What you will say that could potentially make it worse. Your feelings mean nothing and are laughable because his triumph all.

You coware when he screams afraid he will hit you. He screams profanity and anger at you. How can you even begin to reason with someone who has no perception of whats real. One moment he is the most loving husband and extremely apologetic; the next he stares at you with hatred that makes you wince in pain.

His depression, lack of self work and anger, slowly take over him and he no longer sees reason. He only sees his uncontrollable feelings.

When you love someone with a mental illness who verbally abuses you, it can bring pain and a sense of loneliness inside you. The fear of him hurting you is always there, the sadness that overwhelms me when all I hear are his hurtful words of how stupid and naive I am replaying in my mind. Living with him at times can be the most depressing and hostile environment    I feel most of the time; as if I am drowning. If I try to take myself out of the negative atmosphere, he resents my absence; if I remain in the environment he resents my presence. Nothing I say to reassure or comfort him helps and some how I manage to always fail.

He doesn’t see the names he calls me, how he belittles me, he doesn’t know that he shames me, at times he doesn’t even care that his ballistic rage comes for very little cause. He can’t understand that his threats scare and intimidate me, that my feelings are being dismissed and even more so he doesn’t get that he’s trying to manipulate me because of how he feels.

He doesn’t see that he is abusive, he just knows how he feels. He knows he’s angry at me and so I must have done something to deserve everything that he does in retaliation.

With every day that passes by I always remember the nights I cried myself to sleep, the pain his words have triggered within me, the sadness I have developed within because of the opportunities I have let go of in order to not upset him. The joys I have set aside for maybe another lifetime because he needs me….

Somewhere in all this, I have spent so much time trying to lift his spirits and act according to his reactions, I’m not so sure if that extremely happy smile I bear is real or just another act that I have perfected so well over time, that I even fool myself….

I simply know that I love him through all the mental illness that clouds his judgement is caring and loving individual.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I feel most of the time as if I am drowning. If is take myself out of the negative atmosphere he resents my absence, if I remain in the environment he resents my presence,

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Silence

I shutter at the silent draft that creeps inside my room as it flows through the curtains leaving a tinge of frost in its wake. It’s a hint of days to come. I have felt it in my sleep, in my day-to-day life and within the very core of my being. I have stood at bay for all the cards to fall where they may.

Fall as they may, I have simply sat in anticipation, fully aware of what could come. Not entirely sure of how anything would pan out, I simply closed my eyes and hoped for the best. I begged for angels to keep on fighting for me, for reason to hold me up in a time when I needed it most. There were so many dreams, dreams of battles that begged and fought with resistance. A battle that can only by seen by me.

There’s an uncanny silence just before the dawn breaks. It’s like the eerie silence the moment right after the lights go out. Or the unimaginable silence right after you receive bad news. It stretches and yawns and pulls at your emotions and tugs at your heart. That’s the silence I have been in lately. In the Bible, that place is called Lo-Debar – The Place Of No Communication. Can you even imagine what thats like?

Sometimes in Lo-Debar, the silence is so loud it screams. Sometimes in Lo-Debar, the loneliness is so pungent it knocks the breath out of you. And sometimes in Lo-Debar the uncertainty and confusion can make you lose focus of the assignment, turn your back on the journey and run back into the comfort of the familiar, the mundane, the yesterday essentially.

I don’t tell them that I see demons. I don’t tell them that they appear in my dreams begging for control. I run always towards the light, I am determined to remain sane and whole.  They have no idea that through this pain and these tears , I remain vigilant. I remain calm and in those nightly adventures I seek faith. The random thoughts of ending it all and the struggle for purpose have never been so real.  I wont let this define me. Though I know no one could understand, it does not compel me into silence.

Today as I sit here in the pin-drop silence, I attempt to make peace. It simply means that I am seeing where I must go while not dwelling on where I have come from. This, I believe, is what is sometimes referred to as the point of perfect equilibrium or the pivotal point, some would would say.

Today I am in Lo-Debar.

You see Type 1 Bipolar Disorder doesn’t define the woman I am. It’s simply a symptom that I shall forever forego. I feel deeply, I hurt easily and I love intensely; flaws and gifts all in the same spectrum. The battle and  struggles I’ve endured against the devil on my shoulder (Mania)  have encompassed my reason.

I don’t want to swim these deep waters alone but I am doomed to eternal darkness. Now I can only imagine how dark this must sound to you, should you lack the understanding of a mentally ill mind. I never anticipated that my emotions and thoughts would run so deep.

I start my days with hope, ambition and optimism but when the mania hits, my day’s end out of breathe exhaustion and a never-ending to do list. I crave for a lower amount of energy but then I’m hit with disappointment , lack of energy and dissipating  joy. There is never a middle ground, I never feel normalcy only extreme amount of emotion. I truly believe that you must play to your abilities and so I have. I have played to my strengths and managed my weaknesses.

Mania has made me capable of accomplishments I could not have seen myself doing out of normalcy. Depression has brought the humbleness that I need to respect all that’s around me. I have received gifts out of my disabilities that I would have never known.

So the next time someone says ” Damn Tasha, Your crazy”. I shall smile and simply agree, for I m in Lo-Debar.

 

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Psychosis: The Aftermath

“It is not heroin or cocaine that makes one an addict, it is the need to escape from a harsh reality.”

You know they never tell you how hard life can actually be. They explain bits and pieces as you grow up but they never elaborate on the details of what you may or may not encounter. Everyone is told that they can be anything they want to be, you are pushed to do your best and you walk through life with this ringing in your ears that life is your oyster. Until that fateful night when you feel pain, witness injustice and embrace tragedy.  All that I could be, stopped for me. I was diagnosed with Rapid Cycling Type 1 Bipolar Disorder (the worst kind) and with that came limits. Limits to what I could do, who I could be and the loss of control that I so desperately seeked. I’ve seen despair and all the triumphs that life enfolds but I have also seen the most beautiful moments that this world has to offer. I am compelled to dive into my depression or rise instantaneously into mania but there are moments that remain a memory. Moments that exist before the mania fully takes hold.  In that moment, I sense the uplifting joy, I recognize the enfolding happiness and suck in the wonders that this world offers.

I know that I’m happy, I know that the smells and sounds are intensified and that life is embracing me back. The music is liberating, the breathe of fresh air is intoxicating and the laughter around me is contagious.  I am conditioned to ask myself, what is the cause of my happiness? I am programmed to sense the beginning symptoms of mania but at this very moment I don’t care. This is the only moment that I am grateful to be like the average person. This is the moment that I can see clearly and enjoy my surroundings despite the realization of whats in-store. Theres a sense of peace and genuine happiness that not even I knew was possible. A weight that has been lifted as the stress of life’s struggles have been forgotten. Suddenly nothing seems impossible.

What a relief.

I drive with the windows down and the AC on, music blasting with all genres thats manifest strength and joy. I take in deep breathes that have never been sweeter. I take a passing glance at myself in the rear view mirror and see the beautiful, smart and ambitious woman I have become. I allow myself to suffocate in this moment; as this moment is always brief. This moment will evolve into full fledge mania. I am only hours, minutes or seconds away from losing full control of my emotions and in essence my mind. Eventually everything will intensify and become an overload of sounds, feelings and thoughts. Soon I will blast the music at an ear bruising rate, I will inhale cigarette after cigarette with no resistance and down red bulls as if they were water as I feel every emotion with an intensity thats unexplainable. The rapid thoughts that list the to do’s for today, tomorrow and next month. The feelings of happiness, insecurity and uncertainty mix itself within and I am simply a bucket of confusion.

In this moment though I try to slow down, I try to embrace the feelings that reinforce my present joy. I do not prepare for the storm; I simply bask in the ambience of simple pleasantries. Even the loneliness can be replaced with endurance, the insecurities can be replaced with self esteem and the anger can be replaced with pure humility. In this moment, I try to save myself. I wish I could always feel this way. I dream for a life where this feeling is the norm. I grasp at the feeling and watch it slowly slip away. I have lost control…..

The darkness protects you in a sense so that you are completely unaware. Some where inside of you, there are previews.Seconds really, where you can see from the passenger side. I’m frightened and I have no control but thats not what scares me. Its the way I feel, its the voices I hear and the delusional thoughts that I have accepted as fact. A day of severe grandiose behavior, unconventional spending and unlimited drinking mixed with a week of no medication have taken its toll.  I cant remember and what I do remember stops me in my tracks. The feeling of being untouchable, the words I scream out of unwarranted hatred. Somehow I’m barricaded in my room, theres bread, theres laughter and there are voices that say I am not safe. Yeah Bread, no clue why. Maybe that was my meal until help arrived. I couldn’t tell ya.

I awaken the next morning exhausted and confused. Where is everyone? Bruises and cuts on my face. Tons of calls that I have no recollection of. The last thing I remember was sitting with my husband and having a drink. I wasn’t drunk. I was sure of it. The next morning I am faced with the damage that I’ve caused, damage that I don’t remember and seems unreal. As I drive straight to my psychiatrist for help, I cry. My face is swollen from the tears. The shame and guilt have over taken me. I’m afraid. Can you believe it. I’m afraid of myself.

Im catatonic, there are no words or expressions. There is only silence. I faintly hear words such as psychosis, nervous breakdown and delusions/hallucinations. Its my first episode and its common with my diagnosis. Im prescribed stronger meds, spoken to about the next steps, reassured, followed by her warm embrace. I opt out of psychiatric care, I have to work. I call my mother and she tells me all the things I said the night before. She tells me she understands. She tippy toes her words in fear of causing me more distress. I get it because I’m doing the same. I try not to think, I try not to stress and I let go. I don’t want to fall again. I don’t remember but some how I survived. In that darkness, you are no longer you. I’ve read about it and it was something that happened to other people. Until it happened to me.

They never told me that my grandmother had many psychotic breakdowns, they never warned me that my mother had extreme OCD and mania. They never truly explained the seriousness of my fathers alcohol and drug addiction. No one ever assumed that I would inherit it all. So I sit here, wanting to embrace life but afraid of myself and whats to come. Holding on to my sanity for dear life. I pray that I never lose it again because I have lost a piece of myself. A piece that I don’t think I can ever regain. I can never be certain of my actions. I will never be confident in my emotions. I will forever questions my thoughts in fear that I should break. There is no cure. So how many more pieces do I have to lose before the Natasha I have come to know and love is no longer me?

Cause in this world, anything can hurt you and it can push you and then desert you. I cant let this steal my history. I still look the same as I stare at my reflection. I look the same but I’m not. I just cant stop living, afraid of what I will see and who I will be.

I just need to remember me.

Bipolar · children · Death · Depression · Divorce · family · life · Loss · mania · Manic · marriage · Miscarriage · parenting · Seperation · Uncategorized

My little girl

June, June is a month that holds weight. June is the month that my mother was born. June is many things but June is ultimately the month I will never forget. You were everything I ever dreamed of.  I prepared as any mother would. I didn’t have much but all that I had was yours. The crib set up in preparation for your appearance. The soft small pink outfits that I folded time and time again. The tiny toys that filled your box. With every doctors appointment your heart beat grew stronger and stronger. I felt your kicks and your little hiccups. I loved you more than you had known. I loved you more than I had the chance to show you. You were so tiny in the sonogram and the overwhelming realization that you would soon be mine came over me. I felt blessed and afraid. Afraid that I would never add up, afraid that I couldn’t be a better mother, and hopeful that you would make me better.

Within one appointment, I carried you for a last month check up. You weighed me down and  I felt your pitter patter not too long ago. It had been days though and I grew worrisome. The doctor was hopeful that I was simply an overly worried young mother, she knew that all would be well and reassured me that I should cast my worries away. So I did, assuming that I was just overly protective. You see, I loved you so much. I was so worried and excited. I dreamt of you so many nights. I dreamt of your long black hair, your pale skin, the deep brown eyes that would stare at me with your dads long eye lashes. The smile that would break your fathers heart and drop me to my knees. You were my daughter before you even knew it.

That appointment , the doctor smeared the cold jelly on mommies tummy and the moment that I waited for each month came as it always did. It was time to see you move and squirm within me. It was a chance to see you and feel you and hear your tiny heart beat within mine. It was the moment I thrived for. It was immediate but I saw the concern within her eyes, I didn’t hear the beat of your heart. She smiled awkwardly at me. She rubbed the handle of her sonogram machine all around me, in hopes to find a sign of life. She only only saw the tear. Tear of your amniotic sac, the home that you have known since you were conceived. You at some point were lacking your nutrients, your home, your safety.

The sadness and despair to which the doctor had was inconceivable. She apologized as she excused herself from the room. She returned almost instantly with 2 other physicians and they all took turns confirming what my fears had already shared. You were gone. You no longer lived and squirmed within me. The absence of your kicks and the silence of your hiccups were a sign that you were gone. Rushed into an OR room where I was provided medication to contract and push you out was almost unreal. I didn’t have a chance to call daddy. I didn’t have a chance to call anyone.There was hope that if you were taken out they could save you. I didn’t take a chance yo slow down the process. I needed you. You see you were my salvation, I dreamt of you since I was a little girl. I dreamt of your appearance, how you would feel and the years that came after. I never let go of hope.

You came out and the silence was deafening. You were pale, you had the black hair I dreamt of, you were so small and fragile. You were beautiful. They let me hold you. I was in aww, I was in pain and I was alone. I was so young and I had no idea what to do. I wanted you to kick, to say surprise and start crying. I wanted you to breathe. I wondered how I would even begin to tell all those that waited for you in anticipation. How could I let you go? I couldn’t take you home. I considered it. I felt pain but the sudden realization of what had happened didn’t hit me. I was numb. I let you go and they took you away. I laid there frozen signing papers with no real understanding as to what I was doing. I was told that I would be transferred to the maternity ward. I couldn’t do it. To hear the song of every new baby brought into this world with a new life to be witnessed. To hear the sounds of babies crying all around me, knowing that yours would never be heard. I refused. I left and never returned.

Everyone around me felt anger, sadness and emptiness. I couldn’t understand or even process. You were gone. You would never lay on that bed that your dad and I built, You would never wear the tiny outfits we prepared. The depression deepened and everything within me shut down. Daddy had to pack everything away, No easy task I’m sure. I held a blank stare, I lost hope. I felt a feeling that I wish upon no-one. I loved and lost you in such a small time frame. Death had never been apart of my life, you were my first loss. I didn’t recover. I never could.

Every birthday I dreamt of how old you would be, how cute you are and what your personality could be at this moment. I envisioned your smile and sassy attitude, your tiny feet and little dreams. I imagined the look in your fathers eyes that would have been filled with so much love for his little girl. Every little girl that passes by me,  is you. Every babies little laugh is yours. The dreams that I have of you are so real that it hurts. Years have past and not a moment goes by that I don’t see your little face, feel your small body and smell your soft scent. Not a day or year goes by that I don’t want you. I dream, I hurt and I know that this emptiness will never go away but ultimately you are and always will be my little girl.

Adultery · Bipolar · Bipolar Disorder · Cheating · children · Cuttings · Depression · family · hypersexuality · Infidelity · life · mania · Manic · Manic Depressive · marriage · Obese · parenting · Self harm · sex · Uncategorized · Weight

Maybe Tomorrow

The sun has risen and the children are laughing in the distance. I can feel my husband rise and within moments I can smell the brewing of coffee, that means it’s time for my day to start.

I can’t move.

It’s seems to be the simplest thing; right? It isn’t though, it’s crippling. There is a fear to jump out into the world, a resistance from my bodies lack of energy and my mind’s refusal to acknowledge all that needs to be done.

I know that I will be a disappointment and the looks of dissatisfaction will only confirm my need to hide further within myself. If I could be a turtle, I would hide in my shell until all have disappeared. I can hear the clink of the dishes that need washing, the silent whispers of socks that haven’t been cleaned and feel the disapproval of the time that I have managed to squander. I have spent the past few days saying the same exact thing.

“Maybe tomorrow”

There is no real reason or explanation that I can muster. I simply hide further in the sheets, knowing that they provide a blanket of comfort. My bed allows for me to sleep and not feel, see or hear. The soft feel of my comforter holding me down and allowing me to stay. I know that I can’t or won’t manage a thing today. Sweet words and loving kisses will not change me. I have locked up and lost myself within the shadows of mind as depression consumes me.

What happened? I was so energized and optimistic just the other day. I was proactive and almost perfect. That woman seems far away from where I lay now. I know the world means well but I wish they understood. I wish they didn’t take it personal when I reject their calls. That they accepted my unwillingness to answer the door. I wish they all could see that it isn’t me.  That I truly want to be all that they expect of me.

But “Maybe tomorrow”

I can’t though. I am drowning in myself and the only one that can save me is unfortunately me. I will though, as I have time and time again. I will eventually rise, with my knotted hair, my 3 day worn pajamas and a frazzled look on my face. I will force myself to move. With every step, as a million pounds of bricks weigh me down. I will still trudge through and try. I will try to do all that I need to.

Today though I’m perfectly delighted to hide and that is where I will remain for today. So I whisper softly to myself.

“Maybe tomorrow”.

Adultery · Bipolar · Bipolar Disorder · Cheating · children · Cuttings · Depression · family · hypersexuality · Infidelity · life · mania · Manic · Manic Depressive · marriage · Obese · parenting · Self harm · sex · Uncategorized · Weight

Where did I go?

When did the push and pull of life become the center of your being. The overwhelming exhaustion of life’s many trials.  Where did I go?

Where is the vibrance! The optimistic girl that once resided in me?

When did life become so predictable and dead stares of silence fill a room?

Knowing all and realizing you still know nothing can be the ultimate paradox.

The simplest of things aren’t so simple when you really consider it.

The need to be seen for the first time. To be valued and not pitied. The resistance that is put forth in order to protect yourself. The loneliness you feel when in a room filled with those you love. We all want to be loved, we all want to be acknowledged. Its what makes us human. The looks that turned from passion and hope; to resentment and hopelessness? When your feelings are deemed irritional and so you reserve them and shell up. There is a sense of jealousy towards all those who remain carefree. There is a sense of disappointment when all you had wished for became a joke.

Distant stares and secret cries carry its toll. The arguments that resolve nothing. The words that aren’t heard but hurt.

As a mother, wife and friend I had hoped for so much more. Am I wrong? The love is blocked by the 9 to 5, the children’s every need, the families every quarrel and the bills that appear with every coming day. The bulbs need to be changed, dinner needs to be made, wash the dishes and pay the bills before they shut it off. Think and think and solve and solve. Hoping for 100% and settling for keeping the peace.

Get over it, except it so you don’t end up with nothing and no-one. Is the presence all worth it. Craving for a different ending, knowing that it will never change. The difference is ever-changing and undeniable. The broken hearts that carry weight. Resolved in what life has provided. I don’t know, forget about it, Keep the peace. Is this ok? Those that are lonely pray for love and those that aren’t pray for happiness.

Sinking in a hole that no one sees but you. Praying to simply give up and knowing this isn’t even an option that should ever be entertained. The misunderstanding that all know how you feel or can even relate is bitter sweet. Pulling me back or pushing me forward is simply a form of control and sometimes the need to not care is enticing. Where are the invisible restraints that bound me and hold me without even being touched.

When did it disappear? When and where was the moment that changed it all? When did life ultimately diminish the faith and love that was once dear. When is your decision ever the right one? I know that the answer will never truly be clear and only time will tell. Never takes too long to be pulled back into the same spectrum that you have become accustomed to. Broken vows and innocent lies carry through and weigh you down with time. The pain that never left, the deceit that has never been forgiven. I don’t know if I like what I have become. The voices that whisper in the back of your mind and confirm  the scary questions that lie hidden. Who am I without you? The love that you provide never allows me to even ask. The loneliness you create also holds me in the dark.

The fight has diminished. I don’t know me any longer. I know that I should. Holding impossible dreams that cannot be controlled is not fair to anyone. The letting go is the simplest solution and at times the hardest. Knowing that you will never be heard will always remain a fallacy that can never be identified. Why can’t we simply cherish who and what we have? Why can’t we accept who we are not?  I know perfection doesn’t exist but perfection was never demanded. I cant say that I don’t dwell on whats been done. The ripples that still remain hold a a sadness that had never diminished.

We have been here before and I have no want to say everything and nothing all at the same time. Let go of what has been done and continue with faith that all will resolve itself.

There is no right or wrong. There is only the understanding and realization that change is needed. Change that can make or break you and those that you love.

Choose wisely and hope for the best as life never holds a gaurentee and doesn’t that scare you? I know It scares me…