Don’t play on my playground~

Don’t play on my playground

The rusty parts might cut you

The hinges may come off

The railing is weak
Don’t play on my playground

They’ll think you a freak

You want to be here on this grey dingy playground no it can’t be

You’ll be on this playground that’s owned by me

It’s so easy to get hurt don’t you see

My playground although dented and corroded is made just for me

I’ve cared for it poorly

It’s not to late

To play safe on the merry go round

I’ll sit and watch and wait

No I’d rather the thrill of the rollar  coaster you know

There is fear in my eyes but it won’t show

No no

I’ve played on my play ground for so long the fear I had now has made me strong

It’s been far to long get off my playground off my merry go round as well

I have a few choice words I’ll keep to myself oh what the hell

There is no more us not now no story to tell

Get off my playground

It’s being renovated

So shiney and new

My playgrounds reserved only for few

That means my playground is not for you

Politics of Mental Illness~

Let’s establish a platform for what I’m about to address. Politics is a good place. Below is a general description of what politics mean.

Politics=

Activities associated with the governance of a country or other area, especially the debate or conflict among individuals or parties having or hoping to achieve power.

I work with others, I stand with others, I promote with others, I believe with others, I fight with others, I dream with other of a day where I no longer must address issue’s such as what I am about to do in this post. Notice all I do with others, notice that I’m part of the collective of “others” like myself.

I try very diligently to educate and facilitate the changes needed to break mental health stigma. You know…. let’s move outside a little more, let’s be inclusive and break all stigma right? Wrong.

Perhaps I’m a bit more skeptical these days. Perhaps it’s cause I’ve invested my time effort that has compelled me to write this.

A question if I may, to provoke a thought process. Can you tell who suffers mental illness by looking at them? In some cases you can, but in 85% you can not.

The 15% are those hospitalized. Or have apparent visual aspects of said mental illness publicly.

I’m gonna ask another question. Why do we suffer, and further why do we suffer alone? Why do we have to go into full explanation of a disability at all? Seen or not seen?

Because it’s the politics of this subject, the debate, the fact that most anyone who is seemingly normal outside yet will act upon psychopathic behavior, killing, raping….these people fall under mentally ill, obviously they are missing a piece of something, and in most cases it’s the mind.

It’s because crimes that are related in violence and killings also relates to mental illness. There, there is the elephant it’s out the closet.

So now what do we do? There is only one thing to do, fight for the right of individuality of each other and our illness. Educate inform. But DO NOT let others generalize you in the umbrella of fear, fear and ignorance.

Further I want expound that bipolar and Schizophrenia are feared most by the public than other illness.

Depression is something that connects us all at one point in our lives, in fact, it’s the only mental illness I know that can cancel out. Meaning, when tragedy strikes we withdraw and get depressed however it may leave and never manifest again until another event that invokes depression. I say cancels out, because EVERYONE has been depressed or BLUE.

Not everyone has bipolar…… I think. Sometimes I question that. We are all dual. Double edged. ANYONE can be pushed to limits they may have never imagined, and incur a break from reality.

So the next time you look at someone next to you and you feel all comfy and normal as do they because what they perceive around them visually seems well, remember nothing is truly ever as it seems.

And to expound further, it’s never the ones you would have guessed.

However if only fear and ignorance was replaced by understanding and a willingness to help end stigma end, the politics of the subject at hand would cease.

Further I have witnessed that the ones you fear, are usually the ones who help in the end, and the one you think helps is still feeling superior in their mind, that there normal. Ha.

Can you define normal? Is it the majority? Sorry you will never understand the entire magnitude of normal. It’s just not normal to politically do so, and that my dear reader is the politics of mental illness.

“Overcoming the Overwhelming “ Can it be done?

Can you overcome being overwhelmed. furthermore…. can it be achieved for extended periods of time?perhaps always attainable? In my experience often times the only way to overcome the feeling of being overwhelmed has been to medicate. Right now instead I’m choosing to sit on the dock by the lake listening to the tide.But what is it that helps us feel more relaxed feel less stress have a sense of purpose that everything is OK? Where is the first place that you look? And when you look what is it that you find? And exactly where is it that you’re looking? Is it to God? Is it in a book? Can you find it in another person? Or is it always gonna have to be that pill?

See not only the mentally ill get overwhelmed sadly enough most of society is medicated……As it is most of society is definitely overwhelmed. Can we truly ever live in a state of peace honestly? And if we achieve it how long does it last? Suppose that’s the question that begs the answer. Can one overcome feeling overwhelmed? If you find the answer please contact me I’m dying to find out……literally

~Anguish~

Puddles form in the corner of eyes

Not like rain but like rivers that streak thy face

Tear salted river flows down thy neck

Does this show weakness?

Remorse?

Pain? Oh the pain…..

Dying with no description or experience

It knows not

How nails screech upon the chalkboard

Taking bits and pieces form thine heart

Anything that hurts slowly allows suffering

Oh the beautiful pitiful suffering

Rooms kept dark light hurts’ thine eyes

Another humans’ contact beyond the doors

Never

Sand paper scraping scars, salt being poured upon them

Far better to isolate

Words just jumble together not making sense

Like a gurgling utterance

Howling screams

Of God or Men

Careful now riding between the fence

Escaping as options

Depression, the depression labeled slow death

Likened unto art

Surgery without being anesthetized

Removing the human that was

Replacing it with an organism

Without enough depth

Leaving room only for the pollution and shit to seep from pores

Ahhh yes…. dig deeper still shall we?

Cutting the same spot over and over again

Thy limb falls to the ground

It will not grow back and cannot be replaced

As puddle and rivers tears streak down thy face

Not for reproduction~

IMG_0415.PNG

Puddles form in the corner of eyes

Not like rain but like rivers that streak the face

Tear salted river flows down the neck

Does this show weakness?

Remorse?

Pain? Oh the pain…..

Dying with no description or experience

It knows not

How nails screech upon the chalkboard

Taking bits and pieces form the heart

Anything that hurts slowly allows suffering

Oh the beautiful pitiful suffering

Rooms kept dark light hurts’ the eyes

Another humans’ contact beyond the doors

Never

Sand paper scraping scars, salt being poured upon them

Far better to isolate

Words just jumble together not making sense

Like a gurgling utterance

Howling screams

Of God or Men

Careful now riding between the fence

Escaping as options

Depression, the depression labeled slow death

Likened unto art

Surgery without being anesthetized

Removing the human that was

Replacing it with an organism

Without enough depth

Leaving room only for the pollution and shit to seep from pores

Ahhh yes…. dig deeper still shall we?

Cutting the same spot over and over again

That limb falls to the ground

It will not grow back and cannot be replaced

As puddle and rivers tears streak down the face

Not for reproduction~

IMG_0415.PNG

Puddles form in the corner of eyes

Not like rain but like rivers that streak the face

Tear salted river flows down the neck

Does this show weakness?

Remorse?

Pain? Oh the pain…..

Dying with no description or experience

It knows not

How nails screech upon the chalkboard

Taking bits and pieces form the heart

Anything that hurts slowly allows suffering

Oh the beautiful pitiful suffering

Rooms kept dark light hurts’ the eyes

Another humans’ contact beyond the doors

Never

Sand paper scraping scars, salt being poured upon them

Far better to isolate

Words just jumble together not making sense

Like a gurgling utterance

Howling screams

Of God or Men

Careful now riding between the fence

Escaping as options

Depression, the depression labeled slow death

Likened unto art

Surgery without being anesthetized

Removing the human that was

Replacing it with an organism

Without enough depth

Leaving room only for the pollution and shit to seep from pores

Ahhh yes…. dig deeper still shall we?

Cutting the same spot over and over again

That limb falls to the ground

It will not grow back and cannot be replaced

As puddle and rivers tears streak down the face

Not for reproduction~

~Hell in Your Eye’s~

Walking, Waiting
Flying through the air

Hoping, Hating

Things that I can not bear

Did you think it’s cool to walk right up, To take my life and fuck it up

Well did you?

The Angel of what was me

I can no longer see

I see hell in your eyes

Even behind your disguise

Takin in by surprise

Touching you makes me feel so alive…….

Touching you makes me die inside

Oh I’ve slept so long without you

Alone with too much pain

Elements surround you

The Earth, Water, Fire, Air

You descend upon me without a care…..

Suppressed by your power

Your charming flair

In the witching hour

You curled around me

I was yours to devour

Now chains kept upon me

Seems I’ll never leave

Taking in by surprise

I see hell in your eyes

The True Difference Between a Choice and Decision~

I would like to take my reader through the definitions that describe choice versus decision…..
What is the difference between a choice and decision? Have you ever really given it much thought?
I have Bipolar 1 and PTSD do I have a choice? No. Can I decide? What? Decide what? I can decide a lot but I don’t have a choice. Now watch how cunning and clever the human language can be.
Now let’s define the two okhere is the definition of decision=a conclusion or resolution reached after consideration.”I’ll make the decision on my own”=resolution, conclusion, settlement, commitment, resolve, determination 

esoluticonclusion, settlement, commitment, resolve, determination; choice, option, selection

“a number of factors led me to this decision”

verdict, finding, ruling, recommendation, judgment, pronouncement, adjudgment adjudication, arbitration;

sentence, decree, order, rule, injunction;

findings, results;

determination;

resolve;

 

“they’re delighted with the judge’s decision”

the action or process of deciding something or of resolving a question.”the information was used as the basis for decision”
a formal judgment.”last year’s Supreme Court decision”
the ability or tendency to make decisions quickly; decisiveness.
are Only some of the word used to describe the definition of decision.
Now let’s explore the definition of choice=an act of selecting or making a decision when faced with two or more possibilities.”the choice between good and evil” possibility, possible course of action; solution, answer, way out “you must trust me—you have no other choice” specially of food) of very good quality.”he picked some choice early plums” superior, first-class, first-rate, prime, premier, grade A, best, finest, excellent, select, quality, high-quality, top, top-quality, high-grade, of the first water, prize, special, exclusive, handpicked, carefully chosen, vintage, fine…… very fine ways to describe making the right choice as opposed to decisions
Then we have to remember options but thats for another time.
Funny how our human language has so many forms of saying basically the same thing. Yet two totally different ways in which we exercise each decision each choice.
I prefer the old fashion analogy “count the cost?” And “did you sell yourself short?” Both questions beg the for the same answer, but is it a decision or choice needed depending on perception and circumstances and situations.
Recently I contacted an old acquaintances who said “to make the right choice” But in light of our conversation and the topics at hand I believe that a decision would’ve been a better way……. a better suggestion to use in asking or stating the question… it was like both a statement and question at the same time kinda thing. But which is it? 
Can we get out of the damn cloudy grey areas all over the place especially in our communications with one another…. finding good true things in this world that lacks truth, love, kindness, and justice. Those only apply to some of us not all of us. After all not all of us are privileged and grew up in crystal white towers with stained glass temples as simple reminders of a sense of entitlement. Must be nice but I can only imagine as can most of the world population. 
I just know this I don’t have a choice in being PTSD and bipolar I can’t chose that! I could decide however to try everything to keep my illness healthy. See the difference I just proved? See you don’t always get a choice sometimes it’s only a decision…. so I’m gonna sit on this dock and make a decision to either get my ass up or just stay right fucking here. Sorry for the colorful language after all I’m supposed to be French being from Louisiana and having a Mother with the last name Bourgeois ( found out I don’t have any in me go figure however I have 5% Jew in me and a definite 50% Italian {my Dad was from Sicily}makes no sense why no French from Mom….guess she took that mystery to the grave too….. anyway I’m looking into that ) so that’s my excuse truly what is yours lol Thanks for listening.
Sent from my iPhone

  ~Walking Away~With My Weirdness intact~

I’m weird

I’m not of this world  🌎

The ether

I’m ethereal

I have lost

To much

The touch

The energy

The love

The essence

The Friends ……as I walked away

I lost it all

Had bills to pay

I lost my son, he is not the boy he was

And now it would seem I must accept I have lost a love I’ll never understand ……. boy to man~

So remember me and I’ll remember you….. yes I know I bit off more than I can chew

I lost the will to continue on

So I’m walking away it’s time to move on

You and I both know

You broke me

Still yet I am here

I’m gonna walk away now gotta learn somehow

You know I know you are with him

Hard headed always was

I’ll see you again in this I’m sure

Remember from this point my intentions pure

But I’m waving goodbye to you
I’m walking away now in this I know

I have to go

Walking away

Catch you on another day, time, place, or another life

These wounds cut like a knife

Looking back once more

Wish you would talk to me once Again, before I close the exit door

As…………………….. I’m

……….walking away~

~Accounability Collector~

In bowels of deceit you were born

Silence prevails

As dynamics fluctuate

Blood runs through

Veins yet…. no heart

A strange life

Life not meant for here

Life force with out life

Without love

Abandoned me, it’s ‘s what you do~

My voice will haunt you because I loved you~

Out the window stare

Trees leaves glistening

Sunlight dances upon them

Love has forsaken me

But Angels prevail

Breathing and whispering

Weeping for my numb

Unresponsiveness

Trying to ignite my flame of life

To save me all the strife

To late

The flames falls….. falling over

The precipice….in my heart has a steep drop

Flames burn out as they fall downward into the body, the shell of who I was

I am no longer

My life half there

Half gone

Timing, Destiny

Can kiss my ass

I’ll chose when or if

I decide to leave or stay

Best get on knees

Best pray

Memories don’t dissipate

Scathing scars

Blood runs

Slowly seeping

Out

What have you done

You fool

Foolish games

Stop

Because! …love no more

John Keats” there is no happy love

More happy happy love”

Please…
Nazareth” Love hurts

Love scars

Love wounds and marks

Any heart not tough or strong enough

To take a lot of pain, take a lot of pain

Love is like a cloud, it holds a lot of rain

Love hurts”
You had the the truth in the lyrics

Music can express

Art can express

But you’ll never again have Enough to impress

What does it take?

What it takes you don’t have,or was it Me, I didn’t …..all so complicated you see~
The accountability collector called, said its time to pay your bill it’s long past due~

How can you respond to someone who is acting bipolar to help them get out of their episode? I don’t even know what to call episode. Basically where they are abusive, negative and angry all the time.

First of all how do you even know for sure that it is bipolar?

Everyone has different realities and perceptions.

The anger well did you let this person down in any way?

See anger comes from being let down. I know. When someone wrongs me I get very angry. I can rip them to threads if need be.

So there is no answer to this question that would constitute a useful suggestion.

If you don’t know what to call it?

Because there is nothing to call perhaps you may need to talk with someone yourself about this troubling situation.

I can tell you therapy and a support system with friend helps a bunch.

But yeah…..if you feel this strongly and don’t know what to call it I advise you to get Therapy as well. Good luck God bless

~Breaking Bad~One Hundred And One Days of Hell~Needs lots of Work on this for damn sure~

I have thought over and over about the events that provoked my most recent manic episode.

It began on July 28 of 2018. Let me begin by saying that often extreme Manic episodes take time to build up to a Crescendo so to speak, to hit its high….. to hit the apex of insanity. Stress always is the catalyst, I hadn’t seen my son in months although I share custody. I was being parentally alienated, I was in a stressful relationship and I had to many people around me with drama,like mental vampires that suck all your peace and solitude away from your mind.

As I write this I realize that this may be too much to write too soon after these events occurred, events that should never occurred yet unfortunately did.

But I want to be brave and I don’t want what happened to me to happen to others, that is why I write this blog is to educate and share my personal experiences in hope that someone else can learn and understand bipolar disorder and posttraumatic stress disorder better. Read the links below this Is where 2 inmates died in less than a year in this jail because they don’t care and do what they want when they want. Why? They don’t listen nor care , See that’s another thing they won’t give you your meds either. I take benzodiazepines, you are not to stop abruptly or you could go into seizure and die. I know this happened to me once while baker acted I almost died because they wouldn’t give me my usual dose of benzodiazepine. Here is the article this only shows part of the negligence at Lake County jail

https://www.google.com/amp/s/www.wftv.com/amp/news/9-investigates/lake-county-sheriffs-office-investigates-armor-correctional-following-inmates-death/760398047 and here is another story https://www.google.com/amp/s/www.orlandosentinel.com/news/lake/os-ne-lake-county-jail-inmate-suicide-20190122-story,amp.html

I lost a lot this last episode I even lost myself for a while. I should’ve been baker acted but instead I was taken to jail for 101 days of hell.

I was also tasered in the heart while seated in my vehicle by an officer who knows and is well aware of my condition…..my disability which is bipolar disorder and posttraumatic stress disorder and yet he treated me and my disability without regard. This cop has baker acted me before. The police report is full of lies all my stuff was stolen there were about 20 responders…. too many …. shit got all fucked up, and a lot of my expensive things are gone….. stolen. I even lost my car.

I can’t go into detail right now after a lot of thought, I also have attorneys they probably wouldn’t want me talk about my experience while they are investigating case numbers of complaints I was brave enough to report to a nurse who helped me.

I held onto that piece of paper with a single case number and the name of the officer who put me into a room alone with him present while I was directed to write all of the things that happened to me.

I remembering asking him after hours of writing “is that all I get is a piece of paper with just a case number no dates no nothing but a number and your name?” Seriously?” Yep.

I was called the quiet one in jail. I didn’t talk much and I never cried. Couldn’t I shut down. I had no emotion left. Most likely all the trauma. Upon release on November 5th still no emotions. Honestly I only started crying after I watched all of the show “Breaking Bad” I completely could relate to Jesse’s character at the end, he drives away, and Walter white (aka Eisenberg) is on the lab floor dying as the cops are coming. That was the last episode…..I could feel for the first time watching it as it ended Jesse did the most amazing job of hitting that steering wheel so hard crying and screaming from all he endured, I felt it in…..that moment and it all bled through and finally after 5 and half months I cried…… so hard.

One day maybe I’ll tell more. Till then you can fill in blanks or not.

Perhaps I should have called this Breaking Bad…. 101 days of hell..or

“Finally I Cried, I’m beginning to feel again. . Now maybe I can learn to write again I’m learning to live again slowly. Thanks for reading. Breaking Bad definitely…….