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.
That’s what they think
Washed out color
Long halls painted grey
Not a door insight
Ideas out of focus
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~
~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.
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.~
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.
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.
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.
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.
Mary Louise Bourgeois
7/12/1927 – 9/30/2010
In that photo she was 75… died at age 83.