The fight

Every morning I paint my lipstick on

and I con the world into believing that I belong

I smile and joke

and try to float

the current to the end of day

trying, trying to pave my way

to seamlessly behave

as is expected

living others’ perspective

then home, where I’m alone

my lipstick washed by tears

the pressured load to please

its finally released

and I can breath

now freed

to mourn my desperation

for this depression situation

and with each tear that falls

you’re a failure” Life calls

ungrateful and lazy

pull yourself together you crazy!”

failure, failure, failure echos

as death solemnly smiles and beckons

but still I wake and put my lipstick on

I might be done but I won’t be gone

a tug of war Depression and Life

I’ll participate, butI don’t walk away from a fight


Cracking Stability

It’ll pass

it’ll pass

it’ll pass

but why am I left to ask

when will it pass

when will it pass

when will it pass

Life is an ass

a snake in the grass

with every path

and every clash

I take a headlong crash

and smash a balance that lacks

pillars against these traps

my stability impacts

and cracks

and all I can ask

is when will this pass?

No, Bipolar, I said no!

*trigger warning – suicidal ideation, but it has a happy-ish ending*

I’m rapid cycling at a fast pace. Over the weekend I was in good spirits and had plenty of rest to ease the sciatica pain. Then came Tuesday when I made another nose dive into suicidal ideation again.

My boss had pointed out a mistake I’d made. My kind of mistakes cost the company BIG money and I’m well aware of how much my bad memory and confusion is affecting my work. But so far I haven’t made any irreversible errors. But this time I have, and combined with Thursday’s diagnosis of ‘decline in cognitive ability’, I felt worthless, incapable and frightened for my future. I decided then and there I was going to kill myself that night.

I went to the bathroom and cried. I cried because I’ve lost the ability to do my job seamlessly. A job I’ve been doing for years. A repetitive job that I used to know how to do with my eyes closed. But I can’t anymore because I can’t remember, from one click of the mouse to the next, how to do my job.

And then I cried because I didn’t want to live anymore. It’s too tiring – the stress, the struggle. Fear, uncertainty. It’s a scary place to be when you’ve set a date, time and method. Its desolate. I cried most of the day. When I got home I lay on my bed looking out the window at the bright blue sky and thought – I’ll never see a blue sky again.

My mind began to wander – I’ll never see my home renovations to fruition, or a yellow daisy, an ant carrying a crumb of bread, another sunrise. I’ll never feel warm, soft beach sand under my feet. I’ll never get to enjoy a crescent-shaped moon, or a chocolate milkshake; music, stroking a cat’s silky fur, or playing fetch with a dog. No more swimming in the sea, diving under the foamy waves. Never again the warmth of a hug, a laugh with a friend, the smell of vanilla incense, freshly shampooed hair, a roasting chicken, sea breezes, or a man’s cologne. No pizza. Ever. I’ll never write another word or take another photo; never cook, eat, clean, iron, smoke a cigarette or have sex. Ever again.

And so I changed my mind. And as if to confirm my choice, the very next day I read this post by fellow blogger, Scott Williams – clinical therapist, life learner, storyteller. You must follow, he’s a gem of insight.

There is so much more I want out of life than the misery I live in at this present moment. I always try to tell myself – nothing ever stays the same, change is one of the constants in life. I’m not going to let bipolar be a thief in the night and steal my life. I’m going to keep grinding through this episode, with one eye on the crescent moon, sipping on a chocolate milkshake and laughing with a friend.

Blustering bullshit

Yes. I’m full of shit. I’m referring to my most recent almost-but-not-quite brush with romance. I’m all like “I’m not broken” and “I’m relieved its over”. But truthfully, I’m not okay. I talk the talk but I don’t really walk the walk. I try to convice myself I’m okay, but I’m not. I will be. But just not right now.

Sooooo, yesterday I entertained the idea of a pity party. I even bought chocolate. Lots of it. But thanks to fellow bloggers encouragement, I’ve said to myself:

Myself, it’s gonna be tough, but no guts no glory, whatever the growing pain *sigh*

Sometimes, in the midst of struggle, for pure survival sake you have to take cover. You have to crawl into a foxhole and wait for the dust to settle. Such is life. And that’s what I plan to do. I haven’t given up. I’m just taking refuge for a while.

I’ve taken a few knocks
that have made me see spots
but I’ll try to get back to this place [here]
determined to finish the race
with grace and at an even pace
for my own state of mind
I won’t fall behind
this is my time now
I won’t throw in the towel

under construction