bipolar

His and hers

His and hers. Hers and his. Mine is on the right – coffee with cold milk, white sugar and in true OCD form, a neatly wrapped sugar packet with a neat twist. His is on the right – coffee with hot milk, brown sugar and a laid back scrunching of the packet. Two different people,with different experiences, different perspectives and different interests, finding a common appreciation of one another. Him and her. Her and him. Together, enjoying an early autumn dinner out. If only all of life could be as simple as this observation of a moment in time. But that moment was mine and so I am happy.

Lackluster

Woke up with fear in my gut
Wanted to keep my eyes tight shut
Got no money in the bank, it’s a deep and empty tank
Annual increase is laughable
Implausible
Impractical
Totally irrational
I must look like a sucker to those rich motherfuckers
In their castles on the hill while I work myself ill
So I didn’t do my hair because I don’t care

I didn’t paint my face and not by mistake

its a rebellion

against the reccession that has become my life

of the highs and the lows and the anything goes

the why’s and the woes and the who fuck knows

I’m tired

mired in this uphill treadmill

of going nowhere slowly

headed to the end lonely

I have to say, it’s been a lackluster day

Snap

thoughts racing, spinning

irrational mind winning

decisions, decisions, decisions

self-doubt will make revisions

so without grace I pace

irritatable and so irritated

I’ll scream and shout to illustrate it

aggitated elevated to

excessive and aggressive

angry, short tempered

I can only surrender

and plead – be still my mind, be still

for today you are ill

but still ideas flashing

flights of fancy,

foot tapping

mind rapping

geared up not down

tightly wound

enough to snap

and not look back

best give me a wide berth

and wait for my meds to work

Slow down

The excitement of buying my home sweet home has worn off and morphed into absolute terror. I’m engulfed by fear – not only the financial side of things, but the logistics of buying a place that needs work. My head is swimming with to-do-this and to-do-that and to-execute-perfectly.

I. AM . FREAKING . OUT !!

And I swear, I am the butt of Life’s jokes. This morning, frazzled and overwhelmed, on my way to work, the first song that pops up on shuffle is Beethoven’s 5th symphony. Right now if I were a piece of music, this would be it……….

But amidst all this panic, I’ve developed a new mantra that is working well for me so far:

SLOW DOWN
slow down
slo-o-o-o-ow…….. do-o-o-o-o-own……..

And I’ve plotted a gameplan. I’ve written out a list of queries I need answers for, people I need to book, items I need to order/buy/make, and I’m systematically going down the list. I move in on Thursday, 1 September and have taken leave for the Friday too. Since I was going to have the extra day off, I have had an intense urgency to wrap up all renovations immediately on that one day. Impossible I know, but tell that to my brain.

So, new strategy…… NO renovations until I’ve been living there for a couple of months. This new plan dramatically reduces my workload building up to the move. Phew! Now I’m down to bite-sized, manageable tasks. And of course let’s not forget the mantra….

SLOW DOWN
slow down
slo-o-o-o-ow…….. do-o-o-o-o-own……..

 

The Narcissist

the drug-guzzling, medication thieving alcoholic
that used to be Lover’s old work colleague
who wooed me with poetry
and romanced me hopelessly
offered up an apology of poor quality
but I advanced a second chance
which lasted a week and now we don’t speak

And I’m so grateful ‘cos he was just hateful
it was all about him, him, him
’til my patience ran so thin

he talks in rhymns
with clear signs
of control being his goal

he was barren of compassion
and quick to shout and strutt about
it’s his way or the highway

a narcissist he’s self confessed
they dole out doses of distress
thinking they’re so grand when all they are is shallow ‘n bland

the poem he claims he wrote especially for me
was none other than a W B Yeats specialty
what an absolute ultimate liar
I do hope his crotch catches on fire

p.s. – …..and I know, and you know, you stole a chance and took a glance at my secret name, even though “that’s not so” you claim. Well, stop playing your games they’re lame. I know you are stalking my blog, you think you’re smart but you’re not. Just fuck off before I lose the plot, you plagiarising snot