Oh How Quickly I Forgot

So, some of my psych meds ran out a week earlier than my scheduled follow up. (Still not sure how that happened.) On top of that, I’ve been significantly ill. Now, I’m experiencing days reminiscent of the past. The Bipolar-Unmedicated kinda life, and my freakin’ gosh. I had forgotten just how awful that is!

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Bipolar can be a deceptive (sorry, not sorry) bitch and lie to you, telling you that you were great before meds.

Lying torment of a disease, it is.

If I Could Send a Letter

Sometimes, I have these thoughts. Things one might see when watching The Twilight Zone.

I see two photos of me when I’m younger and it’s Christmastime.

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And I ponder –

If I could send a letter back in time, a letter to my younger self revealing something very significant ahead –ย  my father dying when I am 15 years old, and hey even better Little Girl, you won’t be there when he literally drops dead – nevertheless, a letterย  giving myself the chance to do things differently, say things I wish I would have said, would I do it?

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Because the bonus round includes strapping a bomb on that naive girl’s back, the smiling brunette, weighing her down,ย  cursed with knowledge, clock ticking. Tick tock. Tick tock.

Waiting.

God, I miss my Dad.

Joy

12.23.18 blog entry – Joy

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How are you, guys?

I ask because the holidays can be a challenging time for anyone – wonderful things like family and preparing a Christmas feast, but some sad times too like missing someone long gone, celebrating in Heaven.

Besides missing folks, sometimes people don’t have anyone joining them for the holidays, sometimes shopping can spike anxiety levels because of the crowds and loud noise and the rush.

So, I just want to say Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays. I hope you’re doing okay. I hope you find and feel JOY and love. I hope you chuckle at something cute and silly.

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Again I ask, how are you? Please reach out if you need help. Please don’t isolate. You are NOT alone. Not because of your circumstances and not because of your feelings.

God bless you. Take care of yourselves and each other. ๐Ÿ™โœŒ๐ŸŽ„

It Is Time

12.16.18 blog entry It Is Time

It tries to escape my eyes in the form of tears. It tries to escape my mouth as a scream. It tries to escape my body as blood. But I have yet to release this demon.

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For years, I could not. I had no choice. Now, in this battered, bruised, broken shell, I need to sob. I need to wail. I need to help this cracked patchwork body heal. It is time to finally grieve for what was done to my son.

Yes, we are here now. He is doing well. Feeling well. He actively works to maintain a healthy mental and physical state; whereas, I suffer because for so long I had to be brave in front of him. He is a remarkable young man now and an excellent photographer. And I need to let fly – my fists pounding pillows and my throat screaming at the bottom pools.

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It is time to process. To feel. And I’m scared to death.

Out

12.14.18 blog entry

Watching an HBO documentary called Out of Mind, Out of Sight. It is about mentally ill patients who have committed some sort of crime and are now in Forensic Psychiatric Hospitals. (These were once called Asylums for the Criminally Insane.) They interview patients and staff, get into stories of how these folks ended up where they are, and how some patients have even gone missing or been killed in these type settings. It’s a must watch because mental illness and the justice system are a community issue, not just that family’s down the Street problem.

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And for myself, mentally ill as I am, it scares me that I could end up in such a place. Does that ever scare y’all?