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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 · Cuttings · Death · Depression · Divorce · Dysthmia · family · Infidelity · life · Loss · mania · Manic · Manic Depressive · marriage · Obese · psychosis · Self harm · Seperation · Uncategorized · Weight

Living with Dysthymia

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,

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.