Is that Charlie Brown’s Parents I hear?

Charlie-Brown

Back here again – everything to say but no words to say it with.  More honestly, no fucks to give whether or not anyone knows how I feel.  I’m emotionally and mentally exhausted and no matter how many times I say it, no one TRULY hears me!

No I don’t mean that in a poor me way.  I just get to a point where it seems such a waste of my time and energy to even interact with most living beings.  I have zero faith that even a person I deem intelligent can understand what I’m trying to say in some cases.

That leads us back to the fact that most people talk to be heard, not truly because they want you to listen and respond.  Sometimes that’s all good.  And sometimes you have to realize walking in a circle gets you nowhere, accept that you cannot change it and move forward.  Seriously, some days I feel like I’m trapped in a room with several record players in which the records are all skipping- why?  Because people love to hear themselves complain – I guess it makes them feel empowered.

I get that we all need to vent, but at some point, if you find yourself venting on repeat, you need to make some decisions.  Decide to change it, if you cannot change it, decide to engage your super bubble armor and not let it fucking get to you.  Because once you’ve gone beyond venting for the release of a bit of pressure, for the purpose of moving forward (PAST WHAT YOU ARE BITCHING ABOUT), then you are just as much of the issue as whatever you are venting about.  Not only that, but you are regurgitating your negative feelings about it again and again and it’s landing all over the people that care enough to listen to you.
Just like anything, if you use your credits up on repeats and trivial bullshit, where will you turn when you truly need that ear?

Many people feel comfortable talking to me.  I consider that an honor and am glad to be there for people.  But if you keep putting the same fucking ingredients into your cake batter and ask me why your cake still tastes like shit eventually I’m going to smash you in the face with your cake.  Or if you keep feeding me the same bite of cake over and over and asking me if it tastes different, I’m probably going to stab you in the eye with the fork you are serving me the bite of cake with.

Oh then I’ll be the bad guy because I had to get harsh and real due to the fact that people are so self-involved even when they seek out another for comfort, they ignore what the reward is yet keep asking for a reward.  I am a patient person most of the time, but once I’m full all my gracefulness flies out the window and I will tell you straight up that you are being a little bitch or I’ll just walk the fuck away and make myself less available.

I have my own life issues – I’m a single mom of a teenager with a full time job that fights to keep her bipolar disorder in balance day to day.  I LOVE to be there for people I care about, but I can only handle so much.  If you don’t hear my subtle advice and I see no signs of improvement or no steps toward resolution or acceptance, I’m eventually not going to be able to retain the SHUT THE FUCK UP from spewing out in some form.

Seriously folks, there’s a fine line between venting and beating a dead horse.

Not A Victim but Not in Denial

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I realized that I write more sad/dark content than I write happy/hopeful pieces.  This is not because I am always on the depressed or negatively agitated side of my bipolar coin.  After giving it some thought I realized it is because the happy/hopeful side isn’t as shunned or doesn’t cause confusion/misunderstandings the way the other side can, so I work extra hard to hold the dark parts all inside and keep them from impacting my life or the lives of my loved ones in a negative manner.

After holding it all in, it starts to rot; I write to release it (and hopefully to help others find their way through their own mazes or at least know they aren’t as alone as it sometimes feels).

Don’t mistake my writings as weakness or a drama-fest pity-party – they are far from it.  They represent the strength of surmounting the trials that my disorder can present.

I accepted a long time ago that I am fated to fight this battle.  And fight I always will.

I can proudly say that despite all the dark and ugly thoughts and perceptions that can haunt me, I have learned to keep them mostly inside and keep my life adequately in order.  Or to spew them all to my super awesome soul sister who knows me intimately enough to not misunderstand who I am based on the horrible things that are coming out of my mouth/fingertips.  Thank the stars for her truly getting it – because sometimes she has to remind me of myself and that this person/attitude is only a temporary side effect of my condition.  Also thank the stars for all the loving people in my life that do not shun me or un-love me when I hole up in order to recharge/get myself right and not bleed my blackness all over them.

Onward!  This is called life – it’s for living!

Ugly Eyes (Poetry)

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Seeing the world through ugly eyes…

Not the way I like to see.
Rubbed the wrong way,
I struggle to stay optimistic.

Some days it seems like “Fuck It” is the best answer.

Seems like, being the key there,
It never works out as nicely.

But ugly eyes…

Sight cast over with cynicism.
Effort seems pointless.
Humanity is exasperating.

Why do I play this game, day after day?
It all seems so burdensome.
What’s the purpose to all of this?

Some days I think I’d be happier left out of this world.

Give me a forest to lie in,
A tree for shade,
Some berries to nibble,
And no part of this thing we call civilized life.

 

Oh what an excursion! (or) How crazy am I?

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Last week, for the first time in a long time, I went on a cycling trip.  No, not a bicycling trip – I am blessed with rapid-cycling bipolar.  I haven’t done much cycling over the last two years.  I have dealt with situational depression and my anxiety disorder was a bear to keep reigned in.  Consequently, I didn’t pick up on it immediately; okay, maybe my BFF had to point it out to me when I was telling her “I don’t know what the hell my problem is, I’m up, I’m down, I’m bursting with energy and optimistic then seconds later I feel as heavy as a brick and buried… blah blah blah.”
Once she said, “Girl… you’re going through your cycles rapidly is all.” it all made perfect sense.  How did I forget what this feels like?  How did I not realize that all the high-stress situations that cropped up one after another with a side of monthly hormones tossed in threw me into a round of good ole bipolar fun?!

At least now I know why I feel like I’m losing my mind and bouncing all over willy-nilly.

The next mission is to make it through this without extensively damaging any of my relationships.

One second I can look at someone and see all the good and feel so grateful and happy to know that person; the very next second I shift and my eyes see things in a completely different manner.  I may flip from feeling like we have this great bond and you get me so well to feeling like you just humor me and probably don’t even like me.  Or maybe where I usually see all the best qualities in someone suddenly any less than appealing quality is amplified to the point that I begin to feel very put off by our interactions.  It’s one extreme to the next and back again and it’s all in my head.

No one else is seeing any of this; they are my own delusions or exaggerations.  I have learned that over the years and as a result of making muck out of the good things in my life because I chose to see these things as reality and not a byproduct of my illness.

So, I fight to keep it all in check.  It’s like having the battle of heaven & hell raging inside my head and it takes a lot of energy for me to keep it restrained there instead of barfing it all over the world and the people in my life.  It is rather physically exhausting – it encourages muscle tension, headaches, irregular breathing (sometimes when I am trying to reign in the battle that is happening in my head I actually forget to breathe – I know it sounds ridiculous, but it happens and the next thing you know I am gasping for air), inability to focus on any one thing for more than a short period of time, and many other tiring affects.
Oh goody, my body is exhausted and my mind won’t shut the fuck up?!  This means that I fall behind on things that I should be using my energy to do… laundry, dishes, enforcing punishment, creative projects, journaling/writing, scheduling/keeping appointments for doctors, etc.  I basically get through in what I deem to be a very half-hazard manner.  But that’s the best I know to do, keep it together the best I can until the cycling slows, then deal with any aftermath (which is hopefully little to none) when it has come to a conclusion.

Oh what fun it is being a responsible bipolar individual.

Detoxifying Life

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It’s so easy to get oneself entangled in a toxic situation/relationship without even realizing it.  It generally starts with compassion for others – most good-hearted people are empathetic to others.  Especially when it is someone we care for going through something hard, or someone we’ve just started to get to know whose “patterns” we are not aware of, etc.

Before you know it, you’ve been sucked into their vortex.  You’re just trying to be a supportive friend, partner, or coworker; listening to their woes.  At first you may think, “Damn this person really has some crap luck.” or “He/She is going through a rough time right now.”  As time goes on you start to realize that what you have mistaken for temporary is part of who they are; not what they are experiencing.  It becomes clear that this person is THEIR OWN STORM.  Whether it’s because they need turmoil to feel whole, they are using it to avoid looking too deeply at their own lives, they think they deserve to be miserable or any other array of possibilities, this person is CHOOSING to be the victim and in some cases smearing their negativity all over you day after day.

I am a victim collector – let me rephrase that, I used to be a victim collector.

I have a huge heart; I care a lot about others.  I was also a “fixer” – you know, the girl that says, oh that’s broken, let me fix it for you – be it your stapler, your heart, your bank account… whatever.  Helping people made me feel like I was doing something good.  And I am when I am helping someone that truly wants to fix it.

The next thing I knew, I was surrounded by toxic people – takers – victims – users – the list goes on.  And I taught them to keep dumping it on me, crying on my shoulder, etc. because in my mind when you care, you are there.  So there I was sitting in the middle of a group of people that used me for what they could get, that became over-dependent on me; a cluster of people that sucked me into their vortex of negativity.

Not only was it slowly sucking me dry over a period of time, it was also making it near impossible for me to keep a grip on my bipolar cycles and anxiety.

What a miserable life.

But guess what, when that is who is in your life, eventually they empty your tank.  You become depleted.  Toxic people are generally, in addition to the things I’ve already mentioned, not the type of people that consider how they are causing others to feel or to stop and consider replenishing the well they are drawing from.  They are selfish – deliberate or not – and they will take until you are lying wilted on the floor, then they merrily move on to the next source of nourishment.

Where does that leave you?  Broken.

Once I reached that point I sat there, crushed, not understanding how I could give so much but be of such little importance to all of these people that run to me over and over for their fix of choice.  I was astonished by the fact that when I broke, there was no one willing to help fix me.  Some dropped everything and ran; others were content to keep me close so they had someone to keep them company in their pit of darkness.

As I sat there, I realized, that as comforting as it was to pity myself for a time, that this behavior wasn’t going to get me anywhere and my “so called friends” weren’t going to help encourage me as I would them because they liked the comradeship they thought they’d found.

That’s when I had to put my shit-kickers on (my preference Doc Martin’s) and start climbing out.  I don’t know how people are content to just stay right where they are and blame everyone else.  It’s certainly not fulfilling.

It might be for some, but it wasn’t for me.  I donned those boots and grabbed my ax and started to climb.  I had to thicken my skin and harden my heart a bit (not for always, only as needed – it’s okay to put yourself first).  As I climbed I started lobbing off the parasites that were bogging me down.  Yes there was guilt associated with it, but just like a scratch on your hand, it didn’t last forever.  Others fell or knocked themselves off by trying to pull signature manipulation moves that had worked for them in the past.  I let them fall.

As I did this there were times I’d ask myself, “What the hell are you doing?  If you dismiss everyone in your life, what will you have left?”

Do you know what the RIGHT answer was?  “Me!  I’d have me left.”  And you know what I didn’t have?  The dark heavily weighted feelings that had me constantly battling with depression, stress and anxiety.

I thought, “Woah!  What is this new world?”  I had time to consider me, I had the means and energy to nurture and pamper myself a little in a manner that I deserved.  Fuck yes this feels good!  But wait… I do kind of miss having comrades.  I love myself and am perfectly content with my own company, but we all need interaction with others.

No worries!!!  I cleared all this room in my life.  As I continued to tend to my own needs and responsibilities something started to happen.  For every space left, life was bringing me people to fill them back up; this time of a more positive nature.  However, let me be clear, it wasn’t just life bringing me people, it did bring them, but it was also me assessing and choosing which ones would fortify my life, which ones were worthy of all the love and kindness I offer and would be willing to enrich my life in return.

It was all up to me.  I could elect to begin new toxic cycles, or I could resist the urge to embrace every person that reached out to me and select only the ones that would be a good fit for both parties.

Once I accepted that I wasn’t being cruel and heartless, when I finally realized that I was worth all of the love that I extended to others, my entire life changed for the better.  I am a much healthier, happier person.  As a result I am far more of an asset and inspiration to my loved ones.

IT’S OKAY TO SET BOUNDARIES AND KEEP PEOPLE THAT DO MORE HARM THAN GOOD OUT OF YOUR LIFE OR AT A DISTANCE!!!

Try it, you’ll thank me.

Checkmate? (Poetry)

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Twisted inside; choking on myself.
Maybe I’m the doll
That should be left on the shelf.

Sickened within
By my own frame of mind;
Feeling all sorts of misaligned.

Miss-matched and varied;
A patchwork of personality,
All fighting to be unburied.

An unappetizing mix
Contradicting into itself;
Light as air, heavy as bricks.

All I can do is let them battle
Until they dissipate,
And my core-self can yell “Checkmate!”

~Sandserene 5/11/17