~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

~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~

~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.

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

~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.