~The Art of Being Sorry in 4 Simple Steps~

The art of sorry in 4 easy steps…….

For the majority of us being sorry is something we often feel when we do something wrong. We often forget is that when we truly are sorry and we apologize to the other person with whom we done wrong too we open ourselves up for hurt.

Feeling regret or remorse or sorry is an emotion that humans feel after doing something against their lack of better judgment or against their values or morals…..basically in any circumstances that they should’ve acted differently in.

Previously I stated you open yourself up for hurt when you truly are sorry, you then proceed to tell the person with whom you have wronged that hey “I’m sorry truly sorry”

What happens when you are sorry 1. You say it and 2. Mean it and 3. Leave yourself open to the persons response there are no “but’s” or “Could’s” or “Should’s” or Would’s” 4. There is but one single statement” I am sorry” that is all that should come out of your mouth. Next you should prepare yourself to receive whatever the other person Has to say in response to your contriteness silently listening without excuses.

Lately it appears or so it seems that the majority of relationships that I engage in are all one sided. This makes for a lonely existence. Unfortunately however alone it may feel I am learning that it is necessary to limit those around you who continuously make excuses or are master manipulators at trying to always turn everything into their “reasons for” never truly being sorry , only wanting to explain why they did what they did… see that is not sorry, Or at least where I come from that’s not what I was taught.

So to recap…..don’t ever say that you were sorry unless it is the only three words that you were going to say to the person you wronged,there is no excuse for whatever you’re sorry for that’s why it’s called being sorry….So there it is 4 simple steps to the Art of truly being sorry.

~Breaking Bad~One Hundred And One Days of Hell~Most Recent Manic Attack~

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…….

“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

Gone is Sunday’s Rest~

There was a time where time did move slowly calculated differently~

Humble beginning
From brutal wars~
We all bare the scars
Of our history of all wars
Fought~
A time where God was revered
A time where many feared~
Then some stood up
Spoke a strong truth
An uprising inspired by the youth
That day~
Conflict contained?
No. Look around foolishly we believe yet in lies~
Sadly we eat what they feed us eagerly~
Children of all the times never truly protected~
Further more the Poor, hungry, homeless, rejected, neglected~
A time where stores closed on Sunday’s the world did rest on that day, in honor of the Lord, the very notion that sparked all wars~
Quiet was heard on Sunday
Like a Christmas holiday
Quiet energy radiating as all took rest, refuge around the dinner table~
Then Machines gave rise through men’s eyes
Able computers doing what hands had been hired
In this many jobs lost, people fired~
Clogging up lives, red tape causing rape, news travels at unbeatable rates, instantly communicate~
Cops get away with murder and rape of people and youth, twisted all the stories turning lies into truth,What of protection? ah yes a broken connection~
There was a time where families gathered, and looked past the insanity of each other, embracing brother, mother, sister, father
Tolerance replaced by intolerance~
A time where children were quietly abused
Now children are loudly treated as adults they are often used, for fill ins, mind games, stolen, runaways, used for porn and sickness of men
Times has it changed much then?~
From beatings by hands of a Mom or a Dad oh the children cry out, so sad
You’re that child still, you, me
But we chose to forget, not see~
Time it changes~
It echos impervious
Yet alters,  leaving illusions, confusion~
Population out of control
Not enough can go around
People subdued no rising up
Cloned, drones marching onward without a sound~
Revolutions things of the past
Time long gone
Machines compute making our voice mute
Just a text~
Busy busy on the go
Did you know, we once rested on Sunday?
Time handled carefully, treasured and indeed measured by standards long lost
Human race you did not count the cost?~
Insanity is cool, disorders separate, labels everywhere often causing hate
War we still are, that is we are at war
Not winning, not by far~
Comfortably some sit, afforded the bliss of ignorance~
Could they be the ones who could bring about difference?
Won’t know, complacency rules
No not one can be used as needed for tools~
Time once moved slowly
Sunday’s we took rest,
Personally think it best~
Time not captured but in a memory
Believe we should take rest~
Mixture of times both then and now
Mingling to concoct a recipe
To level, even it out~
Would a revolution shout out bring about needed change?
All lives rearranged~
We used to rest and revered Sunday’s~
Quiet as a holiday where energy is mellow and slow, resting peacefully on that day, we all stopped at once~
There was a time
But it’s gone~

~Stigma~ 

Smeared dullness

Catatonic stare

That’s what they think

Washed out color

Long halls painted grey

Not a door insight

Ideas out of focus

Stifling, confusing

Lack luster,  incredulous

emotions …….Clawing away the life fingers scraping their nails jagged and bloody, threads unravelling.. like the sound of a chalk board being scratched.

That’s what stigma, bias does isolates you.

Yet I exist Wrapped inside this cocoon~

Generic and uncategorized yet longing to be labeled and in a category ~ oh wait, I am… I fall under stigma mental illness under my skin, unseen yet relentless in my mind there are millions of my kind.

One size fits all as long as that size is extra large as to swallow my frame,as well as yours.

Swallowing my existence whole~

Preferably invisible~

Left unseen~

To myself~

Designated ~

As is~NJM