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

~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.

“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

~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.

~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

Loneliness~

Loneliness

A feeling so singular

A despair that numbs

No one around you

No where for them to come

Much less would you run if they did

Who can you trust

In this life you have to have one

At least they say it’s a must

Don’t believe them

There is……

A home that is lost

Friends walk away

Seems in this life

Nothing will stay

Alone

In silence

Able to just think

To sink

Downward

Into the pits of ominous clouds

Thoughts of a past screams out loud

People who loved you

Lied

None kept

All I can feel

Is completely inept

A fear that grips

A suffering so real

That all you have left

Is no way to feel

But alone~

~This Empty Space~

I don’t feel you anymore This empty space you used to fill

To paint the picture in our mind

Those days long gone we search to find

Your image faded by years gone by

Your voiced muted

Your fragrance no longer lingers

Your thoughts no longer shared

Your laughter gone

I don’t feel you anymore

This empty space you used to fill

This empty space~

~Perimeters~

Standoffish aloof
Not looking at you~

Perimeters~

Coordinates
Bubbles of glass with precise measures
Encasing
Protecting
Inviting Safety
Each equation
Etching the space
The fine area deemed just my space
Slowing building up walls
Curves edges and all
A saving grace …….before another…….yes again a setback, another fall
Drawing fine lines
Marking each point
Thoughts are layers, times frames~
The nexus holding the perimeters together
Wondering if you could ever……yes ever
Believe yet again in another
Even further still nothing is forever…….
Forever the same each second each moment bring about change
Bending each thought and molding each frame ~
Believing this time it will not be the same
But perimeters falter & twist & wind and morph like a darkness acting often unkind ~
Life is an altered course it unfolds into time a commodity given the day you were born but perimeters weaken
Coordinates torn ~
All the while strategy in progress to save what is left of the holes in my heart and pain in my chest~
Perimeters are guild lines I lacked for to long, but I learned this the hard way like any over played song
Boundaries blanket me safely from harm
I no longer lay upon your loved arm~
I no longer listen to your heart beat~
I no longer feel~
Perhaps I do feel a bit for another~
But time Will only put our coordinates together
Although I lack in certain knowledge in subjects not taught
I’ll still invade your mind I’ll still be in your heart
Can’t help what I know not what I feel but
Perimeters took those it was those it did steal~
I’m trying to self preserve trying to heal
My perimeters are unique & my numbers are mine
Circumference of my thoughts etched and in place I’ll think long and hard before I look upon another face~
So know if you ever tried to understand me or tried to break Through and let me let you in
My plan is to not feel this way yet again~
Still Plans often change lives rearranged
These measure are precise and I can carefully prepare to slice to dice the hurt and pain~
To continue this path
Retract & Refrain~

~In the Grey~It’s Where I’ll Stay~

I’m in the grey…….
Grey Chasm swallows
I’m in the grey it’s where I’ll stay for now
I will not attempt to move quickly
Nor will I be rushed
Do I fascinate?
Do I invoke fear? Hate?
Perfectly negate?
Am I your guilty pleasure…
Is there no distance yet to measure?
I’ll create my walls
Build my tower strong
Brick by brick no matter how long
Exterior crusted over with
Innuendos and regret
I’m in the grey
I will not be pulled away
In this Chasm I will stay
Until I decide, until that day
You can not reach me… There is no definitive here
No truth or lie
If I want to stay until I die
It’s then a matter of choice
The beauty of my grey instilled in me a voice
Slowly it drips…..spill forth from my lips
Turning my words to black and white
Finally to distinguish which is wrong and which is right
But I shall not take flight oh no, I will move slowly with precision
At the end of the day it’s my decision
For now I’m in the grey area
Safely in my tower, walls erected
While my thoughts become collective
Selective
In the grey

~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~