~The Depressive Side of Bipolar~

There are two modes of bipolar 1, as well as bipolar 2. In fact in all bipolar diagnosis you have two modes. Some of the bipolar labels have mixed modes which means being hypo manic and depressed at the same time.

I can remember clearly at the beginning of my diagnosis waking up feel grand happy, beyond happy, only to feel like suicide may be the only answer later in the day.
I’ve written a piece of what a manic episode feels like. I’m going to try to give you what the depressive episode feels like.
Unlike depression which is another form of mental illness, bipolar depression although similar is more severe.
So let’s begin. Please keep in mind these are my experiences.
It’s a subtle sneaky liar that begins softly in the mind, growing into a monster within hours. The littlest things can evoke tears and regrets and fears that on a scale of 1-10 it’s an 11. Which means it’s beyond the norm,
What I mean by littlest thing is the catalyst can be just the loss of something, something you feel certain you put there, such as a book or a your shoes. Why surely I remember clearly that’s where I put them!
Truth be told I just think that. Because later the item will be found. The item may often be very close by where I thought I put it, and as though I have blinders on I simply am not registering it’s right in front of me.
This begins the tail spin,then thoughts begin, you know all the reasons why everything is not right how could it be I absolutely know where I put this item, this thing.Obviously I didn’t. It seemed as though I did put it there, not the case.
The thoughts continue and start to make me feel stupid hopeless and disillusioned by all injustice I feel exist in the world.
Next my thoughts take me to what I like to call the exit door. The exit door is basically suicide. Thoughts seem to rationalize that being non existent will solve all problems I’m incurring. Not being around anymore I don’t have a meltdown and this sounds like a good idea, or at least at the moment it does.
I will lay down and begin what call the stages of loss. Anger, disappointment, the “Why me” syndrome, finally arriving at the fact that I’m afraid. Afraid of what you ask? The unknown, the lack of courage to carry out the task of going through the exit door. Yes, I just used the word courage. I wrote a long piece of why suicide takes courage. In order to understand you would not only need to read that piece, but be me, think like me.
This mode can last for only hours, a day, sometimes days. Then just like a snap of a finger abracadabra bam it’s all good again, life is ok and onward I go.
Normal reaction by those not afflicted with bipolar reach depressive states in extreme loss. Loss such as death of a loved one, a terminal illness that will take a life quickly ( by the way bipolar is indeed a terminal illness and can indeed take life away) a loss of a pet, breaking up with a lover or spouse, losing a job, these are a few examples. However for me and my reaction the normal (by the way define normal…. Yeah exactly) reaction is I thrive under real pressure or loss.
My experience with the lows of bipolar may differ from yours, I’m here to share, to educate, communicate, and break the stigma. In order to do so we all must share. Find your voice share let’s compare then let’s see where we can all go from there. Thank you to those who took the time to read this.

~Let Me Introduce Myself, I am Depression~A must Read for anyone Depressed~

~You point out all the reasons to not be depressed. I see clearly the things you so readily direct my attention to.

What you can not see is for all the positives you see, there are negatives waiting to consume the positives you point out to me.

With brittle faith, and frailty  of the mind, the positives you refer to are impossible to find But wait… Hold on a minute, it could be far worse than you have.
Could it now? In this I believe. But often easier spoken than to fully receive.You must change your thoughts, don’t think about these things.
Oh, ok and again I can hear what you say. But shifting this mindset will take more than a day. It will only surrender when it’s run it’s course, after consuming the mind with regret and remorse. Shake it off already get over it, move on.
Oh, I see… You have not met me, let me introduce myself, get acquainted with you. In no random order I’ll make you feel blue. My name is depression, mental illness with no cure. To live right beside me you’ll have to learn to endure.
‘Ill make your decision making a complete udder mess, while you can’t decide which question to address.Remorse, despair, there with no hope, I’ll squeeze out your life until you choke… And then right before you take your last breath, I’ll decide that to today will not be your death.
I want you to be quiet, don’t say a word, it makes the goal easy, you’ll never be heard. Genetics is what I hear many say , is the very reason you are this way. But I’m no respecter of persons, not choosy one bit, I’ll  fester around you and in your mind I will sit.

Awaiting the circumstance to sneak my way in, and you’ll question the link of genetics again. But regardless you will not win, and I’ll  not give a clue, because its to easy to get within you.

Invisibility to me can not be acquired , nor obtained.  The seeds are well planted and I’ll make you feel that all is for granted.

I prefer to romance you, woo as you will. Tinker and tangle the web I can weave, and the beauty of all, is I’ll never leave. Not for long at least, but when I’m away, you might enjoy life for more than a day.~

~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

~Restless Bipolar Thoughts~

Bipolar mind

Machinations

Eclectic mind

So random without order

Content unknown

Images flash

Strewn about thoughts

Racing fast,

Flooding my brain invading

Concepts to conceptualize

Twisting

There is no pause

No stillness

To much to contemplate

Subjects subjective

Bursting

Perception yet perceived

Intent

Only to be Crystallized

Donnell Kerr  Christian~follows give me support on this very critical post!


Donnell Margaret Donald KERR~
There is no easy way to put this

No easy way to say

But you all think you are a Christian in a comfy corner you pray~

While your own flesh and blood did you turn away~

Does Jesus not say, Whatsoever you do to the least of my children that I do unto you?

Yes I believe that has been written~


My son……your blood as a new born kitten, you turned your back to a blind eye did you give, Do you really think in heaven you’ll live?

You dress all fancy on Sunday and sing put on your holy face~

But the promise the Lord made to his children is he will wipe you out erase from the book of life you see

You all turned your back on Donnell’s son trust this is not about me.

So when you read Gods word you sing and you pray it’s the blood of the innocent for which you will pay~

He did nothing to you, or you, or you, but I can tell you’re all ignorant and have not a clue~No Holy Spirit abides within you!

Suffer not the little children… hmmmm….

You go about life as though your grandson/Son Doesn’t exist~

On judgement day you’ll feel the Lords fist slam down the book make you take a look., Hypocrite you see? Think you better than me? Than the rest? Time God puts you to the test~ or maybe give it a rest, nope it’s the contrary~

Hey your daughter Noel some call a fairy? I think you know what I mean some say a queen, but it is what it is, so she’s gay, did not your God make her that way? Yes I believe he did.

Hey she is cool with me but the Bible you read doesn’t accept that you see?

You can live free~

On time bought buy the blood~

Times running short~

And so is the love~

Those who reject others reject themselves in turn God also will reject you~

Not sure what bible you read, But you know not the creed.

You Judge and sit tight now~

Think it’s all right now~

Time has a way of making you complacent you see?like so many others, fake and a snake slither the earth~

Not sure why I write this for I do not curse, vengeance is God’s~

Perhaps I am a small instrument he used to keep you on track and not be confused.

God is not the author of confusion you see, I’ll always accept you, yet you have yet to accept me or my son~

Perhaps retribution has begun……

Turn the other cheek?

Turn away the meek?

The weak?

Helpless?

Well …you did!

He now is a young man

No longer a kid.

I write all this down~

It’s my therapy you see~

I advocate for breaking stigmas~

Breaking exclusiveness~

Bringing in inclusiveness~

For all who suffer affliction~

Both physical and of the mind~

I try to think myself kind~

I often fall short~

Trust I’m no saint that’s for sure~

But enough is enough I’m letting you …..now endure~

Forgive me for my in your face ways, but we all know the bill somebody pays~

Truly I strive to forgive I try to be courageous in how I now live~

Such as this is the case but I truly give thanks for Gods loving grace~

God’s grace abounds the utterance the sound of cries long gone from days long past~

To think at one time I thought Your sons love for me and his child might last~

I want to thank you for training up your child Donnell in the way he should go, so that when he gets old he will not depart from it.

So I write a lot in quiet I sit, no doubt I’m a sinner too,

But I’m sure I’m not a sinner like you~

Not for Reproduction~

Updated~Two Week Notice~yeah already~—

Dear God up above I can still feel your love…. but I’m sorry to say I must leave go away~ you called me a light worker, I can only do so much never ever figured out what is the human touch.

You blessed me with human a beautiful baby boy. I’m entrusting you to him, he is a child and yet my sin~when I try to write my book I don’t even know where to begin my life was fast like a whirlwind…and pieces scattered about and within

It’s all like a puzzle that was left in a closet hidden away, no one notice nor knew what to say

Laying by the devils side it isn’t hard to decide, he is the God of this world I now see, and I figured out the exit for me…. for any who look and choose to see, my mission complete~

So just give two weeks notice and keep the memories they serve no purpose when I’m gone. My words will live on and on. I planted seeds along the way, somehow though was led astray. So here I am Lord here I lay so I request an early judgement day.

I would do the same for my son, I would love him no matter what he may have done.

I ask in return you bless his life free of worry grief strife…. to live to laugh to love to know I can still see him from far above.

I laid by the devils side for over half my life it caused me to much pain to much strife and as a human being I’m sick of this life… I quit. Well I’m giving my two week notice as any good employee of a universal truth I must say I did enjoy my youth….. sometimes…. it reminded me I wasn’t meant for here, I was wild free and truly fierce scared of NOTHING!!!! Not even death. I couldn’t wait to take a last breath… but I endured and at times I laughed

But often rejected due to class, stereotypes, and bullshit in general full circle around but this time my Lord I leave this playground~ two weeks notice not to long to go and when I get where I’m Going please don’t say “I told you so” see ya soon!

Probably by noon

Mary Louis Bourgeois~one of the greatest fortune tellers, my Mom. On the Bayous of Houma Louisiana~

My Mon was 78 years old right there in the photo, just saying~

Momma I called Dennis today, been 7 years since you passed away.

I was sick in my mind and was unable to help when you died.

Momma we had a very strained relationship I felt that you tried……. the best you knew how, oh how I wish you were here now.

The words I speak now are still hard to find.

After 7 years I asked Dennis, I never met face to face.

If he would render the ashes, if not where they were placed?

Momma he couldn’t you see.

He gave them to your companion who was 20 years younger , as you well knew his name is cecil. Here I got his picture today! He looks great see 

I searched Cecil down and what a surprise he did tell. By the way he is doing well.

He poured out your ashes onto your mothers grave.

It was to late for your ashes for me to save.

Momma I’m sorry I was sick in my mind, there were many around me who were very unkind. You warned me long ago but I didn’t take heed. Watch who you let in and what exactly they need. They will cling to you, your life force and will breed.

You mailed me a card voicing concern, it was mailed the day you died I finally learned.

Momma it is bittersweet to know the day you passed & went away that you mailed the card to me that very day.

Momma you already know I grieve differently than most.

I have delayed grief it takes many years to finally sink in.

Just like when Dad died ashes to wind, he died on my birthday as you already knew. He died 7 years before you.

Momma lately you haunt my dreams… I want you to know I don’t have a Stone where your ashes did go, so this is your headstone now this is your grave.

Momma you kept secrets to tell……

But I’m not sure if those secrets went to heaven or hell.

I’ll never know but I can presume you’re finally at rest you paid the price you passed the test.

I know your life was really hard it was far from the best.

How I wish things were different

How they could’ve been.

Momma receiving the card you sent on the day of your death,

It was delivered 3 days later

I opened the mail box took a deep breath.

Momma the last two years of your life we became close

I want you to know I miss you and Dad both.

You lived through Katrina I found  your sons as you asked, I never knew you had many children each one you left except me, I don’t know why,

And will never understand why it was me? Or why the others never came to see, except my sister Jackie

But time has a way to change what has past make it what’s best.

Momma I talked to Dennis to day

Twice before too, this is what he would say “Kismet” at first I didn’t know what he meant

Didn’t know how time moves,

How time is spent.

I know that will be the last time I’ll talk to him as he announced to me his Kismet is due.

Momma Dennis is now 71 years old.

He had a few stories that needed to be told.

His accent sounded so good so Cajun you see the blood so creole in you and in me.

Momma you instilled in me the Bible and quotes each day

At night on bent knee psalms 91 we would pray.

I still can recite it in its entirety today.

Momma you were known as the great fortune teller who lived on the bayou I saw what you did…….

How you always eventually knew.

People would come from cities around to see what was ahead of them to see what you found.

You used a plain deck of cards for you to see what would be.

The kings and the Queens and jokers Jumped out of the deck.

Taking inventory gave them the check read them the mail from the outer realm, touched by the unseen, you taught some to me, taught my unseen instincts only you could at first see.

Prophetic words spilled out of your mouth. You could summon the knowledge from North, West, East and south.

You never approved of any man I brought before you.

They were not good enough,

They weren’t good men.

“Not able “you’d say to give my daughter only truth long the way, to love me as needed, to protect me from harm, guess you knew that none existed so you never did tell how life could often be hell.

People clouded by lies shackled in death, confessing only in their last breath.

I’m so sorry momma I couldn’t get you in a casket into the ground.

But Jimi sang a song just for you how profound

“The wind cries Mary” all around.

https://g.co/kgs/pxdqgQ
I think of you when I hear that song, Jimi tapped into your life somehow in that unseen realm… I think it’s cool and truly old school.

How could he see the creole Mary how the wind would cry your name, how the words painted your life, your strife, your hope, the saddest thing to me was you had to learn to cope.

So Momma this is your headstone on the web of the world immortalized but your story not all told.

Momma I too now am getting old.

Your grandson is growing up to, I see so much of me in him like I see so much of you in me.

Funny how life works how it moves along somehow.

Momma I pray for your blessing as I move along on my quest

Momma inside me I know you’re at rest.
Love Nicole
Mary Louise Bourgeois

R.I.P.

7/12/1927 – 9/30/2010

In that photo she was 75… died at age 83.