√Bipolarmuse ♥ And…

And there’s no possible way to explain what it FEELS like to feel as though you could literally jump right out of your skin. How sitting still physically HURTS… causes intense pressure and tension in my back and hands. How I get the sensation of sparks running up and down my spine as though they are looking for a way out. How I have no clue “how to” relax.
But I wouldn’t change my reality at all… only rein it in.

√Bipolarmuse ♥ An Unquiet Mind by Kay Redfield Jamison

An Unquiet Mind cover
Image via Wikipedia

This is one of my favorite books about manic depressive illness. In fact, I would say Kay Redfield Jamison is one of my favorite authors. “Touched With Fire” and “Night Falls Fast” are both amazing reads as well.
She touches so well on the circus in my head I described earlier… the sensory explosion that happens to me during a manic stage. Reading her describe similar experiences makes me cry. Why?? Because I am not alone in a world like this.
There is no way to describe to someone what it is like to feel so cold that it feels like fire, or be surrounded by lights that are so bright everything around seems surreal. There’s no way to describe how loud a chirping bird sounds or how strong and fragrant fresh cut grass can seem. There’s no way to explain the sound and feel of the earth beneath my feet as I walk.
Nor is there a way to explain what it’s like when all those experiences are absent… as in a state of depression. Depression is the monster on my back. It steals everything from me and leaves me with absolutely nothing. It leaves me with pain… sickness… indifference… and my most hated phrase: “All I know is I don’t know”. When depressed, a walk in the park is absent of everything pleasant. I can’t hear children laughing or playing, I can’t smell the BBQ cooking, I can’t hear birds chirping or dogs playing, I can’t feel the breeze or the warmth of the sun, I can’t see people smiling and enjoying themselves, and worst of all… I feel devoid of life in general. It’s painful and a bit torturous. When I am depressed it takes all my strength to leave the house and do anything… especially socialize. It is brutal. I have fought with these feelings since I was 11 yrs old… and 24 yrs later I am still figuring it out… trying to tame this beast. It can be done. I WILL do it.
Watch me.

© bipolarmuse 2010

√Bipolarmuse ♥ Surrender

I think I could roll over and die… no 2nd guessing, no whimper, no begging and pleading. Just surrender to this hell… yet I can’t… this is all I get with them…
My heaven, my hell. Just here…so I must be.
Yet it’s hard. Inhaling feels like FIRE in my lungs, I feel like I am drowning… only inches from the surface. Every thought produces tears… fighting hard to keep them from surfacing. Every smile laced with poison… every laugh tainted. Every devilish beat in my chest reminding me I am here for them…
For them.
My heart
My soul
My being
My love
My purpose
My hope
My reason
My ALL
My Children
© bipolarmuse 2010

√Bipolarmuse ♥ What do you want from me??

Beautifully asked by Adam Lambert. “What do you want from me”??

May is such a hellish month for me… and June too. In May of 2002 my ex-boyfriend shot and killed himself. It was absolutely devastating to me and the thought can still steal the breath from my chest. The horrific events and his untimely death will haunt me for the rest of my life. I have to give him credit though because he did always say he would never live to see 25 yrs of age…. and he didn’t. Our life together was an insane whirlwind of craziness, drama, intense love/hate, and in the end… extreme sadness. I had taken 3 guns away from him, endured overdoses, hospitalizations, calling in to work to “watch him”, physical violence (towards him), mental abuse, and threats. I came home to our pictures shredded in a billion little pieces… took drugs away from him and paid the price for doing so. I watched him put a gun in his mouth and closed my eyes waiting to hear the blast. It was the worst, yet most passionate love. When we broke up, it was mutual. I flew him back to his hometown and waited for the other shoe to drop. It took 2 1/2 months and then I got the call. On my voice mail I heard, “This is _____, please call me. I love you”. A good friend had called me to tell me the horrible news. I laid on my bedroom floor crying, unable to move, unable to believe, unable to breathe. I had tried for so long to keep him alive and I learned such a hard lesson with him: 1. You can’t change someone, and 2. You can’t save someone from them-self. It took me a long time to stop thinking of him every second of every day…. a long time to stop dreaming of him. And it took a long time for me to see his face again… for some reason it got hard to see his face in my mind. I could remember his smell, voice, jokes, anything and everything except his face.
At his funeral service, I was frantic because everyone was putting something in his casket and I had nothing to put in. His cousin looked right at me and said “why put anything in? He already has your heart”. Sometimes I fear he was buried with it…

“It messed me up. Need a second to breathe.”

© bipolarmuse 2010

√Bipolarmuse ♥ Fire and Ice by Robert Frost

Some say the world will end in fire,
Some say in ice.
From what I’ve tasted of desire
I hold with those who favor fire.
But if it had to perish twice,
I think I know enough of hate
To know that for destruction ice
Is also great
And would suffice. ~ Robert Frost

I love poetry. I can find a poem that whispers (or screams) into my heart and soul… that flows through my veins.

Lets talk of HATE. Hate is: a: intense hostility and aversion usually deriving from fear, anger, or sense of injury b : extreme dislike or antipathy : loathing.
Ahhhhh, loathing. I am familiar with loathing.
Hate is such a powerful word that I tend to refrain from using it often or pretty much at all. But I have learned Hate. I feel it flow through me at different degrees for the abuse my son endured… for knowing that fuck-hole is responsible and not in jail YET.
I HATE you fuck-hole and I am sending that energy out into the universe, into your direction. May the same abuse be inflicted upon you that you did to my beautiful Son.
My son is my sunshine.
Fuck-hole, your not worth the air you breathe.

© bipolarmuse 2010

√Set yourself on fire

“Success isn’t a result of spontaneous combustion. You must set yourself on fire.” Arnold H. Glasow

I want to live by this philosophy!
How many times will I allow myself to be burned by not following through and completing something. I set goals, perhaps too many, and make them completely unattainable. Would that just be part of who I am?? As a child, I wanted to be rich and famous… how attainable is that?
My Father too was unable to complete anything. He couldn’t be what he needed for me and my Sister. A complete asshole by my definition, yet I still struggle and miss him. I still love him and long for him… though it can never be.
Sadly he died 6 years ago. Every option of knowing him, forgiving him, telling him “I love you” was removed from me. I desperately would love for him to know that I have grown and learned and that I no longer hate him…. never did. I have learned the important lesson of loving without the expectation of anything being returned.
I love you Dad… and I hope you fell into eternal sleep with peace and sweet dreams of Star and me. ♥

√Who??

For many years I felt the need to name the person responsible for abusing my amazing little boy… I HAD to scream it from the rooftops! Why? Well, partially because it was the only way to heal myself, and partially because I felt like it was the only justice my little boy would ever have. After all, it was this abuser who would sadistically remind me (with a disgusting smirk on his face, sweat drenching his clothes, dripping from his hair, and covering his face and forhead) that NOBODY would believe he hurt a child. Seriously pause and imagine that a moment…….. he literally said this to me several times before the restraining order went into affect, and then I was reminded one last time, with the restraining order in hand…his words, “Nobody will ever believe I hurt a child“.

That was the fuel for my fire.

It has been 6 long, painful, debilitating years for me.

The Good News ~ My son has healed so much! It is not something he speaks about anymore… not because of any reason other than time has healed him, and his life is full of so much happiness, there is no room for that darkness. Let me repeat that… Time has HEALED him, and his life is full of so much happiness, there is NO room for that darkness! Does it get any better than that?!

So, I need to be able to say that about myself now… and I am finally to that point. 🙂 I recognize myself once again… I see that loving and caring woman. I feel the heat, bathe in the flames…there is no room in my “healed and happy being” for that darkness… my light is back, my fire is back, and with that, the darkness is pushed out. The healing has taken place, and life is beautiful once again. ♥

I won’t delete the original post below… but I have removed the name.

May your life be full of love and happiness, and healing. We all deserve happiness.

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You may wonder as to who could intentionally hurt a 4 yr old little boy…
A person I find despicable and with no core moral fiber. He still doesn’t admit any wrongdoing… yet I know. My son says… and my son is highly intelligent and I take his word first. More intelligent than fuck-hole gave him credit for. I am sure he was banking on my son’s speech delay…
My son was brutally beaten by ************** A 31 yr old Henderson/Las Vegas, NV resident.
Let this be a warning to anyone who comes in contact with him. Your children are not safe.