~The Art of Being Sorry in 4 Simple Steps~

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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.

Politics of Mental Illness~

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Let’s establish a platform for what I’m about to address. Politics is a good place. Below is a general description of what politics mean.

Politics=

Activities associated with the governance of a country or other area, especially the debate or conflict among individuals or parties having or hoping to achieve power.

I work with others, I stand with others, I promote with others, I believe with others, I fight with others, I dream with other of a day where I no longer must address issue’s such as what I am about to do in this post. Notice all I do with others, notice that I’m part of the collective of “others” like myself.

I try very diligently to educate and facilitate the changes needed to break mental health stigma. You know…. let’s move outside a little more, let’s be inclusive and break all stigma right? Wrong.

Perhaps I’m a bit more skeptical these days. Perhaps it’s cause I’ve invested my time effort that has compelled me to write this.

A question if I may, to provoke a thought process. Can you tell who suffers mental illness by looking at them? In some cases you can, but in 85% you can not.

The 15% are those hospitalized. Or have apparent visual aspects of said mental illness publicly.

I’m gonna ask another question. Why do we suffer, and further why do we suffer alone? Why do we have to go into full explanation of a disability at all? Seen or not seen?

Because it’s the politics of this subject, the debate, the fact that most anyone who is seemingly normal outside yet will act upon psychopathic behavior, killing, raping….these people fall under mentally ill, obviously they are missing a piece of something, and in most cases it’s the mind.

It’s because crimes that are related in violence and killings also relates to mental illness. There, there is the elephant it’s out the closet.

So now what do we do? There is only one thing to do, fight for the right of individuality of each other and our illness. Educate inform. But DO NOT let others generalize you in the umbrella of fear, fear and ignorance.

Further I want expound that bipolar and Schizophrenia are feared most by the public than other illness.

Depression is something that connects us all at one point in our lives, in fact, it’s the only mental illness I know that can cancel out. Meaning, when tragedy strikes we withdraw and get depressed however it may leave and never manifest again until another event that invokes depression. I say cancels out, because EVERYONE has been depressed or BLUE.

Not everyone has bipolar…… I think. Sometimes I question that. We are all dual. Double edged. ANYONE can be pushed to limits they may have never imagined, and incur a break from reality.

So the next time you look at someone next to you and you feel all comfy and normal as do they because what they perceive around them visually seems well, remember nothing is truly ever as it seems.

And to expound further, it’s never the ones you would have guessed.

However if only fear and ignorance was replaced by understanding and a willingness to help end stigma end, the politics of the subject at hand would cease.

Further I have witnessed that the ones you fear, are usually the ones who help in the end, and the one you think helps is still feeling superior in their mind, that there normal. Ha.

Can you define normal? Is it the majority? Sorry you will never understand the entire magnitude of normal. It’s just not normal to politically do so, and that my dear reader is the politics of mental illness.

~Anguish~

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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~

~NJM~Can You Feel What I Feel? Let’s make it part of the deal~

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I awake to your thoughts of me causing a restless longing I no longer care to touch or feel. I awake to you wanting to hear me, but I stay silent. I awake and remember how I wanted your love once at any cost. Now I’ve counted the cost it’s of no value to me.

I awake I feel your loss, your longing , I know because I lost you the day you rejected me, just took your rejection and mental abuse awhile for it to sink in. It has. In the words of the late great Kurt Cobain If you truly want me then…… Come as you are, as you were

As I want you to be

As a friend, as a friend

As an known enemy…take your time, hurry up, the choice is yours but don’t be late!

~Accounability Collector~

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In bowels of deceit you were born

Silence prevails

As dynamics fluctuate

Blood runs through

Veins yet…. no heart

A strange life

Life not meant for here

Life force with out life

Without love

Abandoned me, it’s ‘s what you do~

My voice will haunt you because I loved you~

Out the window stare

Trees leaves glistening

Sunlight dances upon them

Love has forsaken me

But Angels prevail

Breathing and whispering

Weeping for my numb

Unresponsiveness

Trying to ignite my flame of life

To save me all the strife

To late

The flames falls….. falling over

The precipice….in my heart has a steep drop

Flames burn out as they fall downward into the body, the shell of who I was

I am no longer

My life half there

Half gone

Timing, Destiny

Can kiss my ass

I’ll chose when or if

I decide to leave or stay

Best get on knees

Best pray

Memories don’t dissipate

Scathing scars

Blood runs

Slowly seeping

Out

What have you done

You fool

Foolish games

Stop

Because! …love no more

John Keats” there is no happy love

More happy happy love”

Please…
Nazareth” Love hurts

Love scars

Love wounds and marks

Any heart not tough or strong enough

To take a lot of pain, take a lot of pain

Love is like a cloud, it holds a lot of rain

Love hurts”
You had the the truth in the lyrics

Music can express

Art can express

But you’ll never again have Enough to impress

What does it take?

What it takes you don’t have,or was it Me, I didn’t …..all so complicated you see~
The accountability collector called, said its time to pay your bill it’s long past due~

~Breaking Bad~One Hundred And One Days of Hell~Needs lots of Work on this for damn sure~

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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…….

I will soon be writing about Delving into Hell~

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I had an experience this weekend I must share with those who THINK they are mentally ILL~cause I dove into hell as a test to see how bad mental health stigma is too alive and well. And what I have to say completely will blow your mind.

PS when delving into hell you must be very strong, brave, courageous, and victorious, and strong faith in your God, and be flawless in execution. Then and only then delve in…….notice what no one else notices as you will know what no 1 knows. So keep watching it’s coming soon~ and like they used to say long long ago when TV’s would go static and then broadcast…… this is a test at 2:00 am it would broadcast ….this is a test this is only a test of the emergency broadcast system….. when was the last time you heard that on tv and we weren’t in any type of disagreements among the USA….. now on high alert present day, you never hear that anymore. Now Think~ yep there you go….exactly!

~Ghost Across the Street~

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When you go into that room, look through the window where I once lived, do you see me the ghost? The reflection at night, the shadow in the corner. Do you think of me fondly? With love?

Across the street where I used to live, now my energy left is but a ghost….that you summon upon request~ look hard close your eyes there I am in the window so long ago…

The ghost across the street……

~Place Of Pain~New~

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Places of pain

Stake through my heart

My love inside me ripped apart

It’s always the hurt that places the blame

Always some egotistical reasons to name

In times of loss and silence

Sitting in the shadows

Embracing the dark

Faith twisted torn eaten with the devils fork

Uprooted will…..not able to contain, all of this torment

This place of pain~