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Lost again..

The exhaustion of wearing the mask of normalcy, began to take it’s toll,

The inevitable day will start with or without me  and I must be prepared no matter my minds eye,

I rub the sleep out of my eyes and face another unpredictable day, trying to remember the events of the night before,

The words that were spewed out in anger were not my own,

I acted on things, did things and said things that were not becoming of ME

A stranger randomly takes control and I’m left to pick up the pieces of the destruction left behind,

Holding myself up with what strength remains, I slowly approach the mirror to face myself this very day

I apply my make up and put on suitable attire for work, in almost a mechanical fashion

I was so high on life the night before and the most loved, wanted and confident one of the bunch

Not today though, today is a low day. It’s the exact opposite of yesterday.

It’s a day that the darkness manifests and thrives, and guilt slowly peaks its ugly head.

I drive silently to work and close the office door; letting all who dare know today is not the day but never knowing why

The fleeting feeling of insanity haunts me with every step I take, and than

The very next day comes….

Waking up a little more afraid of myself everyday becomes the norm

Mania, creating characteristics of feeling grand, glad, gorgeous, high, heavenly and haughty

Leaving yesterdays lessons in the rearview mirror as I dive in as the beautiful disaster I have always been

Normalcy is an otherwise mundane mortal activity and holds no interest in my eyes

Not today anyways because it is a high day

I advocate for audiences and despise interferences

Adventure lies in all avenues as I’m actively associating with strangers in bathroom stalls

I believe in fictional theories forgetting fact based beginnings

And as I stop eating or sleeping through this hazy phase

I try to fathom the nature of my thinking

As I reach a climax,  I begin to sink into a depression,

What a difference from the previous mania….

I am floating forever, far gone from fenced in facts that once made sense

Further flying feelings soon fleeting, falling, forcefully

Focusing on forgotten failures as they begin to come back, with relevance

Trying to part and propel myself from pity parties that Im hosting

So I take poor perception pills that are pouring in my mouth

Popping to stabilize but the symptoms surmount and add up to my systematic separation from sanity

And so once again..I run and yearn for conversation in the height of my heart rate

excited, elevated, elated and  eventually exercising the elements of evolution

eluding from stress as its soaring smoothly and standing still with my mania.

I am yet again lost in mania….

 

 

 

 

 

 

Bipolar · Bipolar Disorder · children · Cuttings · Death · Depression · Divorce · Dysthmia · family · hypersexuality · Infidelity · life · Loss · mania · Manic · Manic Depressive · marriage · Miscarriage · parenting · psychosis · Self harm · Seperation · sex · Uncategorized

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.

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

The woman in the mirror

Holding an old red brush that pulls my hair when I begin to brush the naps that do not easily entangle. Basting the foundation around my deep, exhausted eyes that illustrate a story untold. I stare at the woman in the mirror, its early and the sun is just awakening through the skylight of my bathroom. The birds are happily chirping in the distance alarming me of the new day that is before me. I know this woman; faintly. She is a person that used to be someone I once knew but lately she has become unrecognizable.

The soft sounds of those I love around me, silently sleeping. The light snores and faint breathing allows me peace for the time being. The hustle and bustle of the day will start soon but for now, I envelope myself in the silence. There’s an eerie feeling when the woman in the mirror stares back at me with these deep sunken eyes. The small creases that begin to enfold wrinkles, that are slowly making their way through her withered face. Time has not been kind and the struggle of it all has impacted her image. The scar’s and bruises are deep within; festering within her soul and heart. Her mind is altered and filled with joy and despair.

I look at her and she presents a small and frail smile that appears fake in some respect. Her roots are coming in as her hair drapes heavily over her face. Ponytails have never suited her but they suit me just fine. She cannot afford to allow all of her flaws to shine, so she hides behind the thick multi colored hair, that resembles her life. She sacrifices comfort for beauty in order to manage her insecurities.

Her body has fallen and sagged into its own shape and though most see her beauty, she only see’s the inconsistencies. The nose that grows larger with every pound, the gap between her two front teeth that widen with ever coming year. The hair that brittles with every treatment and the mind that deteriorates with every coming day.

I have seen her before but this woman has taken a form unknown to me. She has wrapped herself in exhaustion and has lost the fire that once bestowed her. She is the strength that once was and is no longer.  I fear for her safety and pray for her to return to us all. This woman that once carried joy, positivity and optimism.

This woman has endured great amounts of pain, she has shouldered the cosmos on her bare back. She has held back the tears and strived on through life’s constant struggles and road blocks. She has persevered when all have fallen behind, she has loved when she wasn’t loved back. She has given and expected nothing in return. She has faced love and deceit. She has remarkably survived but to say that she made it through unscathed is a lie. She is broken and she has fallen to her knees.

Though the pieces are hard to find and glue back, she takes a deep breath and glues them as she stares back at me through my bathroom window. She cries as she puts it all back together and then she stuffs it away from all those that can see. She wipes her tears and continues on her early morning ritual and before she leaves to begin the day, she looks back at the mirror, knowing that she just has to get through one more day. She stares intently at me and I know that I am her strength. I am the person she strives and wishes to be. She holds on and stares at the stranger in the mirror and I know that she is me. She knows that I am her. Though we are not the same, we once were and all the glue in world could never combine us.

There is a moment as a woman where you see the person you used to be, the woman you have become and the woman you strive to be. This moment is staring me in the face and asking me what is the outcome. What will it be? I stare and hope that she will surpass her struggles and navigate through her indifferences. I plead for her to see past her indiscretions, past her pain and disappointments. I beg for mercy, understanding and the possibility of acceptance and forgiveness. This woman who has become tattered by life’s unpredictable paths has become numb and it shows. It resonates within her face, her body, her mind and dare I say her very existence.

She holds a steady gaze and says goodbye to all she once was. This woman that I barely recognize is now me and as she walks away with not even a second glance, I know that she will never be the same.

 

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

A little Introduction

I grew up with a mother that loved reading and a father who valued education above all else.  These traits most definitely stuck with me and growing up I read so many books, that when I ran out of children’s books; I read my mother’s books. By the age of 10, I was well versed in the signs and symptoms of menopause and could recite a good majority of Edgar Allan poetry. Reading was an escape for me, it provided a gateway to other worlds that my imagination could take hold of. You see even though my parents were intellectuals and instilled education as the forefront to my life, they had flaws that overshadowed all the words they spoke. Their actions determined the truth behind it all and I was fully aware of it. I chose reading and writing to escape the reality of it all.

My mother was determined, smart and loving but with age I came to realize she wasn’t like most mothers. It would take many years and many adversities until I found the truth, my mother had untreated Bipolar Disorder. Learning that softened my heart and allowed for forgiveness. My father on the other hand was a functioning alcoholic and drug addict. There were more disappointments than a girl should ever have to endure from her father but the love that I had for him was immense and no amount of pain he caused, could ever deter me from loving him.

 Writing became my peace that can only be described as serene. I’ve always been compelled to tell a story, always had a talent in seeing beyond just words. I felt the meaning behind the smallest of things. As a writer or artistic person, there is an understanding and a connection of the world around you.  I can feel and hear the whispers of life because I simply sit back and soak it in. I can embrace the elements that fearlessly embrace back.

True writing cannot be taught or learned for that matter. It can be enhanced, nothing more. The creativity that compels someone to express themselves fully through art, words, photography and more is a gift. A gift that requires a vision.

 I have always had a knack for writing and poetry. I felt deeply, hurt intensely and loved courageously.

 When I saw the sun, I not only felt its warmth surrounding my arms and face as I enfolded in the new dawn.

 When I was by the sea, I envisioned the sand between my toes and the sound of the waves clashing in the distance. It created a melancholy symphony of music that intertwined with the winds various movements.

The stories in my mind were not only easy to write, they were widely vivid and enticing. My mind took reality and captivated it; in doing so there was only manifested beauty. Many people can write on specific genres and subjects, mine has always been humor and sadness. I know… what an odd combination but hear me out if you will. I could always encapture sadness and in that sadness, I cultivated humor. Its my defense, my shield and my only tactic for handling the issues that I have had to endure. I always felt that if you couldn’t laugh at yourself, you could easily cry for an eternity and where’s the fun in that! In my life I have felt so much sadness that I felt it only fitting to claim it as my own, it seemed appropriate to say the least.
In this bullshit world of social media, selfies and primitive behavior; I choose books, writing and education. I have always dreamed of a life unscathed by the 9 to 5 work flow. You need the experience of life, pain and beauty in order to be inspired and triggered to create something into existence.

Writing has gotten me through the hardest moments of my bipolar disorder and its not easy to present it to the world but I know that many are alone in their struggle. I know I was and when I began writing and opening up about my disorder the outpour of relief from others that felt the same was up lifting and presented an opportunity.

Writing can be a beautiful and mysterious experience as I always envisioned long nights of words and wine; as I reach an oasis of elevation.
Not everyone feels they have a story to tell and for me my life was enough to fill multiple books. Though for now we shall concentrate on the subject at hand; Bipolar Disorder. My life contains so many anomalies that it begged to be told.

A girl raised in a small and stuffy apartment in the Bronx slums of New York City. The smell of urine intoxicating the elevators and the litter that filled the streets of my neighborhood. It was all I knew and to me it was simply home. In a home that consisted of domestic violence and an untreated Bipolar mother whom did the best she could with the tools she had.  My mother was a fierce woman and she was capable of more than she gave herself credit for but as a single mother with 3 kids she was limited in her time and patience. That frustration eventually caved in and spilled over onto me. With no possible understanding as to why my mother acted the way she did, I rebelled. In that rebellion it only made matters worse and I was homeless by the age of 16.

 

My father was a fun and adventurous dad that most kids wished they had. He had no fear and did as he pleased. As a young girl I idolized him and he could do no wrong in my eyes. He was the center of my love and though he was what you would consider self-centered, a drug addict and an alcoholic, my feelings and outlook of him remained the same. I never understood why he failed to show on many occasions; when it was his turn to spend time with me. I was young but I wasn’t too young to see the pity in my families eyes. I wasn’t too young to know, that there was a routine of either showing up extremely late or not showing up at all. It didn’t deter me though from grabbing my grandmothers rotary phone and calling him repeatedly. I knew he would never answer but I always kept the faith that one day he would.

 

As the years past I needed him more and more and as the relationship between my mother and I worsened, I frequently wished and dreamed for his insight. I carried pain in my heart, pain because I felt he didn’t love me, pain because my mother had disposed of me, pain because I was alone and pain because I had a grim outlook on my life.  Though there were moments of sadness there were also moments of joy in the little things and I remained hopeful that one day I would be the woman that I dreamed of being. I would be successful and then, only then would my family accept and love me again.

 

With education, hard headedness, determination and my boyfriend -who’s now my spouse – I managed to become a writer, mother, wife, accountant and somehow trudged along; even as I was eventually diagnosed with Bipolar Disorder tearing at the very seams that I worked so hard to pull together.

The only way this works is by allowing the words that I have held in for so long and have waited so very patiently to express. To use the gifts given in order to fight the demons that stand at bay. Isn’t it funny, that for a good majority of my life I resented my mother for her mistakes, to only then commit the same ones she endured. Isn’t that the paradox though, its assumed to be the cycle of life, all that your mother endures at some point you will endure the same and the level of understanding awakens within you. Though I do not agree with all her choices, I know that Bipolar Disorder controls every part of you and logic is non exsistant. As she did it all alone with no family or spouse to bring her back down to earth, she managed somehow to gets us all through this alive. I may not have been around much but the moments I needed her and came for help she assisted despite her doubts. My mother is the reason I am who I am today and dispite the everything she has also provided, loved me and guided me; even when I fought to not listen. The good and the bad molded me and allowed the same sort of fierceness and independence to flow inside of me.

My weapon is my truth along with my mind which carries racing thoughts that have flown through as an uncontrollable tornado. Pounding down the shed door as the latches give way, these words need to be portrayed.

 

As I sit here I hope you see the deeper meaning behind my words, read as if your the writer. Analyze and maybe you can even feel what I failed to acknowledge for so long.                  

                                                                                                                                                            My life is not dictated carelessly and its hard to share such intimate details of my life and the struggles I have endured with alcohol, drugs, family and bipolar disorder. This memoir is a reflection of all I have overcome and still overcome on a daily basis with the inconsistencies of life, mental illness, drug and alcohol abuse. Coming from my own family, my upbringing and my adulthood. Though I carry no certainty and pride in the drug and alcohol addictions that I have carried, I feel like it has played a role in shaping the woman I am today.

 

Drugs…Alcohol…They were my solitude and they were my poison. Its crazy to know that the one thing that kept me sane,  played a major part in my illness. The drugs and alcohol only magnified the mania and the depression which in turn amplified the realization that there was a problem. A problem that I was never truly ready to face or even admit.

If I could ever give something back; let it be my words, stories and visions. Let it touch those that know my struggle but lack the direction, the approach and the ability to elevate and share with those around them. For those that have a story they cannot tell, may my saga speak for you. May it embrace and comfort you when you are at your loneliest and most misunderstood.

“You are not your illness, you have an individual story to tell. You have a name, a history and a personality.

Staying yourself is part of the battle!”

 

Julien Seifter

Bipolar · Bipolar Disorder · children · Depression · family · hypersexuality · life · mania · Manic · Manic Depressive · marriage · parenting · sex · Uncategorized

It’s OK to be Overwhelmed

I have seen the overloading, inexplicable need to be perfect and to be the best, wife, mother, friend, daughter and employee a woman can possibly be. I know I wrote this blog to tell you that you can do it all and I still hold true to that statement but I also want you to know that it is OK.  It’s OK to have moments of doubt and fear. It’s OK that you don’t know everything. Its OK that things can get a bit overwhelming because we live in a time where women do everything but to everyone around them they never do enough. Find your inner peace, the place you go to in order to get away. Take a deep breath and relax because you are only one person and doing the best you can.

I can honestly admit I get anxiety attacks due to all the jobs that I have on my plate and to be misunderstood and easily dismissed can be frustrating. The best description for anxiety for me and the way a lot of Bipolar women feel that are taking on, their world goes something like this:

“It feels like a freight train running through the middle of my head.

Like being trapped in a tiny phone booth with 12 other people and they’re all yelling at you to the point where all their voices become your own.

Blur of Hypomania, Mania

Like the brain being on speed while your body tries desperately and unsuccessfully to catch up.

Like being a genius that no one understands and being annoyed at the stupidity of everyone else.

Like being unable to complete a thought before another comes and runs over the first, blanking it out without completion.

Like torment from the pulsating cell walls that won’t shut up for one moment and let you think.

Like crying and running and screaming and jumping and scratching and clawing and hitting and gnashing all at the same time.

Like tossing and turning all night long

Like anxiety created from not being able to quell the millions of thoughts or being able to facilitate the thousands of movements being demanded of the human body all at once.

And like a million other things all happening at once inside one tiny head unable to contain them all.

And, personally, I have to keep telling myself that everything is fine because it feels like it’s really not and that I’m going to freak the hell out at that very next moment.

BUT…It will be alright and it’s OK. Some women need anxiety pills to make it through the day, some use exercise / yoga and some try breathing methods. Whatever the method, find your relief to get through the day because you are amazing but even amazing people need to know it’s OK.

(2015 natashatracy.com/bipolar-disorder/bipolar-hypomania-feel-like)

Bipolar · Bipolar Disorder · Depression · hypersexuality · life · mania · Manic · Manic Depressive · marriage · sex · Uncategorized

Defeating Bipolar Disorder: Once you believe you can

Sometimes I think to myself that I wish I wasn’t Bi-polar. I imagine what a normal life would be like. I imagine what days without highs and lows would be like. Its not that I don’t love the person that I am because sometimes I do. Though I assume that my mind allows me to believe its okay to be wild, fun and carefree. Is that who I truly am or is there another side to me that I have never discovered because I have spent so much of my time being the person that I have always been. God knows I’ve tried to be anything other than who I am. This at the end of the day is me despite the pills, despite the constant internal battles. This is who I am deep within. The darkness that over takes me and convinces me that I am with sorrow is stronger than any belief system that I have tried to acquire. The wildness that takes over my mind when it chooses to is stronger than any drug or alcohol addiction that I could ever have. Its a life style and it is a true identity that will always remain despite your need for normalcy. I have learned to accept the inevitable and use it to my advantage. Can you say that you have done the same? Can you look in the mirror and find the positives within yourself? You need to find it, find the good despite the bad. Through the turmoil a Bi-polar mind is not all that you are. You are a person that deserves recognition and a fierce survivor of your own mind.

When others look at you they can never understand, though they may find pity and hope for understanding. You are the only victor of your own struggles and you may not see much praise for your accomplishments. Know that every time you lift your head and withstand the day that you dread and fear, you are a victor. Everyday that you control your unsounded emotions and cravings that are not logical even to yourself, you remain a victor. Even when you give in to temptation know that there is always tomorrow and you will see the victory that remains within you to keep  persevering  towards  a life of normalcy. The life that normalcy can possibly provide despite your mindset and struggles. With Bi-Polar disorder there is no infinitive sentence and you always remain in control. You may see your life flash and take over you but somewhere within it all, with the right medication and support you have a chance at peace. I believe that no matter my condition I can find away to have peace and life beyond Bi-polar Disorder. Find your peace and hold on tight to those you love as they will always remain your salvation. We can conquer Bi-Polar Disorder once we simply believe we can.

Bipolar · Bipolar Disorder · Depression · hypersexuality · life · mania · Manic · Manic Depressive · marriage · sex · Uncategorized

To my Husband

There are so many things that I could say to you and so many excuses that I could run through. I suppose that the first thing I would say to you is that I’m grateful for you and your support. You didn’t sign up for the ups and downs of my mental illness. I see the frustration, followed by patience and understanding. If I could tell you anything its that I know sometimes I overreact about the smallest things and get angry, but please be patient with me. Please understand that I’m in a state of anxiety, depression and over dramatization.  Sometimes I know and see the cloud coming over me but if by some chance you see the cloud before me, hold me, love me and leave me be when needed.  I know you prefer the good days when I’m happy and excited about all that life has to offer but know that I prefer those days too and this isn’t a choice. I would never choose this over happiness with you and my children. I know you love me and sometimes I forget this because sometime its hard for me to love myself. Its hard to see what you see.

I am blind at times and whats clear to you, is clouded by depression, anxiety, mania and bipolarness. You see sometimes my thoughts tell me I’m a bother, sometimes they team up on me and make me feel anything but what I am to you. On those days when I’m hovered under the sheets and afraid to deal with life, love me harder then you ever have. Encourage me when I’m down, even when you feel that you have done this a million times before because what you don’t know is that you are saving my life. You are reminding me restlessly that I am important and loved. You are pulling me away from the cloud, one piece at a time and showing me sunlight that I had no idea was there.

Sometimes I feel like I’m losing control over my mind and I’m far from reachable. Those are the days that I’m scared. Scared of my thoughts, scared of my life, scared that the whispers of insecurity are right. You are the one that brings me back to reality and reminds me that this darkness won’t linger forever. Bipolar disorder is evil and it lies to me on a daily basis. I never know what thoughts are my own or bipolar. Sometimes I feel that you and my children would be better off without me. Sometimes it makes perfect sense and I know what must be done. But then you come along and make me laugh. My boys come along and hold me tight and in that small insignificant moment to you all, it means the world to me. It allows me to hold on tight despite what I think and feel. It reminds me that I am loved and worth loving despite my minds constant battle.  Sometimes I feel that who I am is gone, that I am a mere shell of myself just scratching to reveal itself. The smiles, crazy hair and vodka drinking crazy me is the real me…pushed down by tons of pills and societies description of normal.

Its hard being me when I feel I fall short every time. I could bake cookies with my kids, be excited by trips and draw pictures with them like normal mothers. I know though that I’m not like other mothers. I fill myself with regret and guilt because I don’t fit the script.  I do care though. I care more then words can describe and even though I fail at showing my otter devotion because I am lost in my own storm, know this. I love you and my boys so very much. Thank you for everything you do that you never signed up for. Even though you said in sickness and in heath, you and I both know, we never really thought or imagined what those words would mean or how they would change our lives.

Sometimes the urge to harm myself is greater then I would like to admit. Those days I never tell you about. When you ask me how I’m doing please know that I’m not entirely honest. Sometimes I dream of an end where my mind isn’t rushing and the endless list of To Do’s and failures end. Know that those days I need the most love even though you have no clue. I love it when you open up about my illness, when you acknowledge its existence because it allows a certain comfort in opening up myself. I love the support and conversation that’s there because I know its safe to be honest. Speak and tell others of your experience, tell me of your struggles, make me understand so I’m not the only one in pain. In that moment we are one and our pain is relatable, we are both effected by this illness. At the end of the day though I am me, Crazy, wild, workaholic Tasha but I am yours. Please know I try and that trying is a struggle that I endure everyday to be a better mother and wife for you and my boys.

Thank you because a thank you is needed. You don’t know this but every morning I wake up and I wonder will the sky be blue or will it be cloudy? Will it be a good day or a bad? Can I handle this day? When I awaken and see you smiling and holding me tight despite my mania to do it all so early in the morning, I know that it will be a good day.

So for what it’s worth thank you…..

 

 

 

 

 

 

Bipolar · Bipolar Disorder · children · Depression · family · hypersexuality · life · mania · Manic · Manic Depressive · marriage · parenting · sex · Uncategorized

Wake up..what time is it? My son needs to shower, brush your teeth! Why haven’t you brushed for longer than two minutes? Its so easy to remember we do this every morning. Make up get it on, clothing….. where are my clothes?  Not all the sensible clothes but the ones I want to wear but never have ready when I need it. A mess, my unorganized chaos for which only I stand by. I know I’m disorganized but I don’t care and don’t you dare tell me I am for which I will then deny it. Food, you all need to eat. Coffee needs to be made. So many things that need to be done, what to do first? Appointments need to be made, clothes need to be washed and I should really clean the dog. When am I going to paint the living room? He still hasn’t checked the oil. What if the car breaks down? What if the tire pops? Oh, right! Here and now…Brush teeth and make sure kids are ready.

Ah AJ looks ready, I suppose. Can concentrate  since I don’t even know if i’m ready. I can find anything. I know I had my debit card when I was shopping two days ago but where is it now. Did I leave my keys on the key rack? Chaos, uncertainty and frustration all the overwhelming feelings that take over my morning and I haven’t even left for the day.

Bipolar · Bipolar Disorder · Depression · hypersexuality · life · mania · Manic · Manic Depressive · marriage · sex · Uncategorized

Its Ok to not be Ok

In the depths of my mind I know as I awaken that today is another day that I may or maynot be ok. My mind is clouded with questions and racing thoughts that take hold of the gracefulness of the morning and press for answers. There is a reluctance in rising to conquer the day and then at that very moment I realize I’m not Ok. You create excuses and stories of exhaustion and too much to do. When in all honesty you’re just not ok. Today is a day that I don’t want to go to work. Today is a day that I don’t even want to waken. Knowing deep down that the Rapid-Cycling of your Bi-polar disorder will make sure you are motivated soon enough but for now I am mellow and disheveled.

Yesterday the curtains were hung, the dishes were washed, a 5 course meal was prepared from scratch and the even some reports for work were completed. Today there will be no coffee and the energy to even eat has dissipated. Yesterday I played and laughed with my children at their silly stories and crazy personalities but today I can’t even leave the room. I cannot withstand a hug or a kiss. Yesterday I was the most gracious and attentive wife and today I cannot even be bothered to text back or listen to the pressing concerns of the love of my life. Today is not my best day but I must know that it won’t be my worse day.

I take deep breaths and tell myself I will be ok. I lie and tell everyone I’m alright. I’m not though… Im overwhelmed over the simplest of things. I have moments that I am unsure of myself. Moments that compile themselves on my insecurities and suffocate me with uncertainty. These moments where I try to breathe in and hold in all the pain and confusion.These are the moments that define who I am. These moments that come and try to break me down and make me into the person I fight so hard to not be. I know that these are little victories. The smallest of victories but a victory nonetheless. I woke up. I brushed my hair. I went to work. Even though the smile may not be genuine and the day may not be the best; I know that today, its ok to NOT be ok…..

Bipolar · Bipolar Disorder · children · Depression · family · hypersexuality · life · mania · Manic · Manic Depressive · marriage · parenting · sex · Uncategorized

This Moment

When’s the last time I felt the wind on my face or better yet the last time I sat down to actually absorbed it. To register a windy day and enjoy how it pushes and envelopes me in its cool embrace. The intoxicating fresh air and the peaceful sounds of the rippling water. Have I ever enjoyed it…I can’t remember? When have I felt so much but yet little enough to actually embrace the feeling. The oranges are slowly falling of the neighbor’s orange tree and the budding flowers slowly emerging as spring awakens. The smell of life and the feel of the sun arising for a new day. It’s something that has always been there begging to be seen but I couldn’t possible take the time to grasp. What is it that makes it so easy to push away… Push away from life, the day, my existence all the while grasping straws for some sort of meaning. The leaves are swirling, dancing with the wind and allowing themselves to be swept away to the next adventure. The sun is bright but hides and peaks into he clouds, in order provide light and darkness all at a moment’s notice. Dogs barking in the distance muffled by the sounds of laughter from just next door. Life is happening around me, when is the last time I embraced it? Saddened by the realization I have hidden inside my madness for so long. Grateful that for this moment, if only a moment its recognized,..Its appreciated. Cars passing by in the distance, bustling about on a Sunday morning. I wonder where they are going. Maybe a BBq, maybe church or maybe food shopping as Sundays are usually a good day to remember the things that need to be done and the family time you need to spend.  Plans for Sunday Dinner perhaps? Everyone around you living and embracing existence, have you?  How many times have I taken notice of the shimmering water as the sun hits it just right. The relaxation this whole moment brings. I don’t get many moments such as this. I will take it, use it to feed me and fuel me with positivity and beauty as this moment was meant for.  This moment was meant for nothing or no one and yet it means everything.