Blogging makes my heart break

Blogging has been difficult for me this year. Within six months I’ve lost two close friends. Ulla (Blahpolar) died in September 2016, and Johnna (Painkills2 from All Things Chronic) earlier this year. Johnna played a significant part in supporting me through my grief over Ulla’s passing.

Johnna and Ulla were active and involved blogger.s Their avatars were everywhere. Their part in my life has made me a better person. And now they’re gone. And as life evolves and changes, it seems the ‘old crowd’ has scattered to the wind. I open up WordPress and feel the impact of those departed – the ones that faded quietly away never to return, the friends who kindly bid farewell as they moved on with life. And then the dead. Nothing is the same anymore and the bloggosphere feels so foreign and empty. I don’t adapt well to change. And I form attachments very quickly. While I have since made wonder new friends and know there are plenty of new friends to be made, loss is still so fresh that right now, I’m not sure what direction I will take with my blog.

Not to mention I can barely keep up with following everybody else. I feel so guilty. That I’m not present, reading and interacting like I used to. Life doesn’t leave me with too much spare time. There’s work, which is a mammoth undertaking, exhausting keeping up and avoiding mistakes because of my poor memory. Since my L5 lumbar spinal surgery, its difficult after a full day of sitting at work, to come home and sit and blog. I’m not a laptop-lying-down kinda person. And then there’s my bipolar personal management plan I try so hard to keep to – routine, vigilant for triggers and combating them, lots of sleep etc. Its hard work trying to be healthy.

Stay, go, limit interaction, change the purpose of my blog. I’m not sure. But when I figure things out, you’ll be the first ones to know. In the meantime, know my friends, I love you all and will do the best I can for now.


Good Guy is a goner

He lied. He drinks.

Every day as opposed to the ‘rarely’ he stated when we met. Quanity? Undertermined… because he’s a liar and I don’t believe a word he says. Why didn’t he at some point in the past 4 months tell me he drinks everyday?

I wanted to protect you

More like he wanted to protect himself. He’s selfish. He wasn’t protecting me. He wanted his cake and to eat it too. He knew drinking was a deal breaker for me. So he hid it. He kept it secret. He wanted both alcohol and me, not one or the other. So he lied. But since confronted, he has at no point said – because I love you so much, I don’t want to lose you, so I won’t drink any more. No. Instead he said….

I’m not one to force anything on anybody. So its up to you. Whether you want to just be friends. Its your choice and I’ll understand

But what he didn’t realise is he left me no choice. I will not be subject to having another man choose alcohol over me. So I took back my keys and told him to – go home and “unwind” from your hard day at work, and “chill” with a few beers. Then he threw a manipulation tantrum….

Great! I get robbed today and lose 2 cellphones and now I’ve lost my girlfriend. Thanks! Thanks a lot. What a great time to dump me

Excuse me? He made that choice. He did. He put himself in this position. He’s had four months to come clean with his little secret. And only guilty people keep secrets. He can’t have the best of both worlds. And my world does not contain alcohol. Or liars.

I love you? Horseshit. And here I was, all this time thinking, how lucky could I get – a man who boils the kettle for a cuppa after a long days grind. Turns out he can’t wait to get home to his beers. Well now he gets to spend even more time with them.

The Hospital Chronicles – Part 4

Values are invaluable

I was admitted into a psychiatric hospital for a week. I’ve had my medication adjusted, an addition to my diagnosis and received some invaluable therapy. This is a documentation of all that I learned.

Codependency is also referred to as the Love Deficit Disorder. A broad definition is this: I can only love myself when I’m making someone else happy. I have no boundaries due to fear of abandonment and loneliness. But the real dysfunction occurs when I perpetuate the cycle of abandonment by choosing people who are abandoners. On a subconsciously level this abandoned state has become my normal, my comfort zone becaue it’s all I’ve ever known. But its time to break this dysfunctional pattern of behaviour.

This year I have learned about codependency and relationships. I’ve always been driven by a desperate need to be wanted. So if a person crossed my path and wanted me, that was the only criteria required to enter the inner sanctum of my life. I would invest the full intensity of my bipolar energy into being the person that would make them happy and ‘want to keep me’.

So we’ve established I’m lonely and its putting my health at risk. My doc has given me permission to enjoy the company of men without forcing it to become a deep and meaningful relationship. I grew excited at the opportunity of dating again. But when I attended one of the group therapy sessions about personal value systems, I learned *shocker* that I have none. No core fundamental beliefs that drive my decision-making. But how could I if I’m constantly changing who I am in order to please people. To, by default, live their life and not my own.

The beauty is, I’m learning how to face my beast
Starting now to find some peace, Set myself free
Today, I don’t have to fall apart
I don’t have to let the damage consume me,
-Blue October (Fear)

I can have all the permission in the world to mingle, but until I discover and develop my own value system, I will perpetuate the cycle of choosing abandoners. Before I start dating, I need to build up an arsenal of key values to live by. If you’re looking for me I’m over at Youtube or Google learning the shit outta values and self love.



Love’s reality

he says he knows my moods but cannot name them
and whose to blame him?
who wants to talk of suicide and being left behind?
or a rage that would make front page?
being volatile and all up in his face?
we don’t want that, it’s such disgrace
so we put on a brave face
and say we cannot name the moods
that confuse
and confound
as they liberally abound
no, no, no,
we don’t talk of such things and the reality they bring
rather let’s perform and pretend and hide
from the truth that waits to flood with the rising tide
and when overwhelmed and drowning
taking a bipolar pounding
he’ll leave because he finally sees
the proof that lies in the truth

Two down, but still so much farther to go

The needle was sunk deep into my ass and the plunger wouldn’t work. I was twisted as far around as I could go, manhandling the Voltaren syringe now dangling from my butt, and all I wanted was to shout for someone to come and help me. But I had to figure it out because I’m alone and only I could fix this.

And fix it I did, but this time it hurt. The indignity of my vulnerability brought me to tears. Although, in my current state of depression, pretty much everything brings me to tears – every day. And so I cried because the injection hurt. And I cried because yesterday, as so often happens, I passed my ex-husband in traffic and he didn’t notice me. It was a metaphor for our marriage – I was as invisible to him now as I was then.

I cried for the loss of Lover, a stranger I never knew, who’s abuse has changed me at such a fundamental level I know I will never be the same again. I cried over every other man who had mistreated me, abused me, raped me. Every friend who has discarded me, every colleague who has judged me. I cried because my father loves money and appearances more than he loves me. And, as always when I cry, I cried for the loss of my mother and her abandonment by chosing suicide. I just curled into a heap and cried snot and tears and emotional anguish.

Crying by stardixa - www.deviantart.com

I cry for loss [source]

But, as much as I am resistant to see a psychologist, at the insistence of my doc I have made an appointment for Thursday next week. I have no doubt I will cry some more. But, perhaps the pain can be channeled into some healing of sorts? I dunno. I’m kind of giving up.

Double whammy

WARNING LABEL: Violent emotional outburst of bipolar proportions

shout - deviantart-com

It’s true. He’s gone. I can’t stop crying. It won’t stop and I don’t think I can do this anymore. I CAN’T DO THIS ANYMORE. I DON’T WANT TO DO THIS ANYMORE. Why? Why? Why? People ALWAYS leave me. My mother killed herself, my father remarried and told me – you’ll have to take care of yourself now Pieces, I have a new family now. And holy fuck has he ever kept his word on that one. Barely ever even phones me. Won’t acknowledge my bipolar. Rejection, rejection, re-fucking-jection. I’m SICK OF IT!!!!!

And in the midst of all this, I’ve lost my best friend as well. She was my ONLY FUCKING FRIEND. She introduced us, Lover and me. Granted she didn’t know him well. But she came to discover he was an alcoholic AND SHE DIDN’T TELL ME. She didn’t fucking tell me! She was all distant and acting strange with me. I didn’t understand what was going on. BUT I THINK SHE WAS AVOIDING ME!!!!! She didn’t tell me, she didn’t warn me. She says, by the time she realised it, it was already too late we had moved in together. The night I told Lover to leave, the night I FUCKING CAST HIM OUT AND PROPELLED HIM TOWARD A TOTAL AND COMPLETE SELF-IMPLOSION, I was highly emotionally charged and sent her an angry text about how she should have told me and perhaps it would have lessened my suffering. Now she won’t speak to me. I stand by the truth in what I said (‘cos I said other things as well), but I have swallowed my pride and apologised. I’ve grovelled like a pig in its own shit. But she will not answer me, acknowledge me, talk to me, text me. I don’t exist. YET ANOTHER FUCKING HUMAN BEING TO WHICH I DON’T EXIST.

But I don’t fucking exist. My father hasn’t contacted me the entire week. Not a peep since Saturday, when he was urging me to kick Lover out. No ‘how are you’, nothing.  My friend won’t speak to me. Lover has left me. WHAT THE FUUUUUUUUCK??!!!!!!!!! *doubles over*in.fucking.pain*

ALONE. ALONE. ALONE. ALONE. ALONE. ALONE. ALONE. I’m sick of people, I’m sick of life and most of all I’M FUCKING SICK OF BIPOLAR ‘COS IT MAKES EVERYTHING FEEL BIGGER, COLDER, HARDER. I feel like I’ll never recover. GODDAMN THE UNIVERSE. For the briefest of periods I was wanted and loved and he told me we were forever. AND I FUCKING BELIEVED HIM?????????? Even Christopher Columbus would not be able to find a more gullible person on this planet than me.

Everytime I think of him on the bus heading back to hearth and home, my whole body goes cold. I’m done……. I’m done, I’m done, I’m done, I’m fucking done. I will forage through my stockpile and slip into a sweet oblivion. I HAVE TO escape my emotions. They are killing me.

It’s not personal

Nobody knows for sure, but I’ve been told they think he left on the bus to Cape Town at 10am today. I should be relieved. I should be happy he’s gone and will soon be someone else’s problem. But I can’t break through these feelings of guilt and being abandoned, left behind, deserted. Unwanted. It’s a choking, physical pain.


love fuckin’ hurts. i want to wash away the memories (pic)

I’m trying to tell myself its not personal. He’s just a thief and a liar, a sick drunk, who hasn’t left me because he didn’t love me, but actually never loved me to begin with. I’m trying to tell myself that he hasn’t left me, but has instead run away. He’s a coward and has run away from his accountability. I’m trying to tell myself that he burned his bridges here in Durban and had nowhere left to run. So he’s run back to Cape Town….. from where he orginially ran one year ago.

I’m trying to tell myself these things. Repeating them over and over in my head. But today it’s not working. For today, I am just unwanted and heart.broken.

But not tomorrow. Tomorrow will try to be different, because he’s taken enough from me already. Throughout this experience, I have come to recognise that this grief and abandonment is far older than my encounter with Lover. It’s been buried and breeding in the wet basement of my soul for a lifetime, and Lover’s actions merely brought it to light.

So it’s not personal. It’s not about him anymore. It’s about me.

your mind already knows

I’m dreaming of …. an alcoholic

Today is a public holiday. All I’ve done is sleep. And dream. I can’t keep my eyes open.

I dreamt I was travelling with my husband and all our cats and dogs. We were staying in a B&B up in the mountains. We were injecting drugs. I don’t know what type, he introduced me to it. He was astounded when he asked me how I felt and I shrugged and said “it’s okay I guess”. It was supposed to be euphoric, the best feeling in the world. And I told him probably if I had 2 injections I might feel like that. Both our eyelids were drooping. We were watching TV, sitting separately from each other, but at least there was harmony. Then there was a tsunami that hit the coast. We were making contingency plans on how to get back home once the water subsided. Next thing I was being woken by the B&B owner. My husband had left without me. Taken all the animals and just left me and my stuff. Everything I loved was gone and I had no way to get home. Then I woke up, disorientated and sweating.

As for the meaning? Probably escapism, addiction, feeling overwhelmed and my sub-conscience working through abandonment issues. I have a lot of dreams involving my old marriage and his alcoholism.

I’ve just woken again from another bad dream about a fat, drunk man, a dead puppy and a philharmonic orchestra with a conductor that had a long finger nail on his middle finger that he used to direct the musicians. He winked at me.

I gasped myself awake and decided I needed chocolate. Stat! So I dragged on yesterday’s clothes and headed for the shops. The residue of the dream clung to me while Michael Buble woefully serenaded a sad love song via the store speakers. I felt lost and wanted to cry. Then I got to the check-out. The guy ahead of me reeked of alcohol; I watched 4 youngsters barrel out of a car – they looked worse for wear; even the cashier smelled drunk! WTF! Is today national alcohol day? Or am I still dreaming?

Sigh. Oh joy. But I suppose at least now I only dream about him and the marriage. It’s all behind me now. I’ve left, I’ve done the hard work. I’ll take an upsetting dream over an upsetting reality any day. But, if I’m honest, I still miss him, there is still a hole in my heart. I don’t know why, because he was heartless. Does it ever heal? Or do you just develop a hardened protective layer over the open wound? I dunno.

‘Aint life just fucking grand, hey…..  Sure I’ll feel better tomorrow.


shadows of past lives accumulate in the mirror of my face

where lies are bought and truth lies burnt in cold embers

I will never leave you he said as he walked out the door

and I crawled on my knees to follow but there was no path

only the echo of footsteps drowning in the windswept night

and so it is that I linger in eternal waiting for the return of a love

that is not lies nor fairytales but a truth that cannot be bought