release

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Take part in time and lighten your load
Do no accept defeat even as it is handed off
Peculiar settings make for easy days with uneasy feelings leading the way
Hold onto the snake, ride along with the ancient earthquake
Reverberating comfort to us through the ground
Pound pound pound on your heartbeat
Strengthen blood pumping hope to oneself
Decaying bones headed by the fire representing the loss of sanity
Serenity holds the hand of independence
And keeps the wheels going, watch the gears form together.
Connecting as if correlating parts
Throw another log on to stir the embers
Apparently what we’ve missed isn’t nearly enough
Dip under the calm water and feel free to enjoy the ease of its release
A whole lifetime has fluttered by in the blink of an eye as you attempt to remove infection
Look up to the sky, what do you see?
Milky white silhouettes outline what has yet to occur

turning point

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Staying in the emergency room for a day and a half did nothing to ease my anxiety, not only about relinquishing control over my life but also admitting that I really need help. It allowed for a lot of contemplation, and a lot of worry. Going into the hospital last year really tested everything that I had inside me.
When I finally arrived – after an hour-long ride strapped in an ambulance – I was surrounded by an environment that I didn’t understand. My instincts went into overdrive, and I don’t think that my panic has ever been stronger. I sat there just thinking of how I could get out of there to go back and go through the mundane steps of my life. But there I was, and I had no choice but to look forward.
Something that people don’t tell you when you go into the hospital, even willingly, is that you don’t control when they deem you are ready to get out.
The activities with the strange people that I met made me feel extremely disassociated from reality. We worked on different therapy techniques and were allowed the freedom to practice fun activities like drawing, or writing. The greatest gift that was bestowed upon me was a notebook so that I could start distracting myself from my surrounding.
I will say that the best part of being there was sharing my experiences and learning from the experiences of others. There was a wide array of different people there, all with their own baggage. While at first, I was stand-offish to the experience and the people, I started to open up in group, and started sharing during our free time.
After two days I started to feel the fog lift. The seriousness of what I had been through started to seep in, and my brain started thinking of everything I needed to do once I got home. I spent my time there learning about myself with others and working on my first book. I hand-wrote 100 pages, or more, and it was so therapeutic.

When I finally got the okay to go home, my whole body buzzed with excitement. I wasn’t sure if I was ready to start my life once I got out, but I think that getting acclimated to my meds and taking a pause from the every day life that pushed me over the edge got me to a turning point in my recovery.

for tonight

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Close your tired eyes, just for a while
Say goodnight,
Grasp the slipping hand, it’s passing by
Say goodnight
No one will understand what you’ve been through, until tonight
Truth ripping through the soul
You can feel some more
It’s time, goodbye
Who are they to condescend the dreams that were dreamt in bed one night.
There is no more to transcend.
There is nothing left.
No one to fight.
Give in to the warmth at hand.
Then you’ll understand, you have the right.
Look up, the future is here.
It’s not what you feared.
Why say goodbye?
Turning time will only tell
Happiness or burning hell
It will be alright.

the knife’s edge

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Being diagnosed bipolar was something that I really didn’t expect, and totally took me by surprise. I didn’t think of myself as someone who was out of control, and never really thought that there was something in my brain working against me. But I guess that’s how it can work right?
The fact that I saw other’s around me have unsuccessful relationships with doctors and attempts with medications in terms of mental illnesses, on top of the stigma I already had in my mind that there just couldn’t be something that wrong with me, I had a difficult time accepting this conclusion.
On top of that, I had already jumped head first into treatment with the psychiatrist that my doctor had referred me to – and here was I was with a conclusion that I hadn’t expected and wasn’t all that thrilled about. I had two options. I could tell the doctor to fuck off, that there was no way her diagnosis was accurate. Or, I could follow through with the plan that I had set myself on to see where it would take me.
I guess the thought that really pushed me towards getting help was the realization that I had been going through my life with no assistance thus far, and I was still feeling so terrible every day, and things were still falling apart. Seeking medical help seemed to be the one avenue that I hadn’t tried out, and it honestly made sense for me to give it a try. So, I gritted my teeth, and went forward with it.
Something that every medical professional will warn you about, or should warn you about, is that a lot of medications meant to treat depression, or the antipsychotic medicine they can prescribe you to treat bipolar disorder, can make your sense of depression or hopelessness worse before it actually does its job and makes you feel better. Oh, and my favorite, it can make you more suicidal. Appropriate, right?
It was probably a week or so into the new medication when my mind snapped. I had come home from work for two nights straight and sat with a kitchen knife staring at my arm, just thinking about how easy it would be to get it over with. There was still a small voice breaking through telling me how stupid that was, though.
It was the night that I finally cut into my arm that I called my mom and told her that I needed to go to the hospital because I couldn’t trust myself while I was getting acclimated to this new medication. I was lucky enough to not do any damage; the best way that I can explain it is that I cut into my arm to try and feel something. And, as faint as it was, the alarm went off in the back of my mind to reach out for help. I am lucky that I did so. It was then that I would commit myself into the hospital for a little under a week, and give myself a chance to get used to the medication as well as press pause on everything that was causing my mind undue stress.

flow

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It’s not too hard to research some information on a topic of my own
But I will ask you one last time
Why are you so bold?
Walking through an empty hall
Attempting to speak to you about a faith I have never truly held
Do not mock my heart for refuge in my prison-like cell
You would like alone time as well
If you don’t, well you’re a liar.
I will be hasty and call you so because I can
It is as simple as that.
My eyes are swollen and puffy and sad
So how difficult is it to give me the cool clear drops to stop the poison from spreading?
I am sure you are not prepared to meet my demands
Say goodnight and kiss my hair
And be okay with an intermission
You will have to sit still and be quiet for now.
While I suffer through inner turmoil
Thank you for connecting me together
With the silvery smoke
That is currently escaping your world
Just hold my hand
And give me the wave
And allow me to flow all night with you.

paint

I try to paint pictures for you to try and understand
The kind of circumstances I am experiencing
My hair is no longer soft enough to run your fingers through.
Your hands are dirty and dry, and you must leave it to treat them another day.
Try and hold onto the hope that things will be on their way to getting better.
Let us dance together through a lonely night and hold onto the bottle just a little longer
Isn’t it disappointment to ride along a barren drive
Waiting to obtain an impossible high.

mundane

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Mundane
That it haunts me to know I cannot move forth
And to move the vase of flowers
To the closet from the window
They’re so perfect the iridescent green holds onto the water droplets as a struggle.
Well I won’t stop it, just infringe it.
So, don’t mock my hair, which is fried from
Colors and burnt on the ends
For an artificial high.
Haha – I don’t think so.
Not another happy ending when I am
Standing in the cold, smoking a cigarette,
From the cheapest brand I don’t enjoy
Give me your oversized sweater and flee
I won’t stop you
I merely seek warmth and comfort
And snowy kisses on a mountain
When we occupy your dreams
They will transcend into reality
Until we’re actually there with the manmade
Snow fluttering all around us
And we drink our cocoa
At separate, stringent tables
Do not forget to pray for those
Who do not seem fortunate enough
To experience such a dream like reality.
Who knew we were so lucky to hold our own
But please do not untie my dress
I quite like it hanging there from my assets from my mother.
So just allow it to adorn me for now.
The weekend is almost over anyways
So, we’ll be heading back to mundane
Soon if there are no obstacles
And no more forks in the road.

wolf, and a little something extra

One thing that I know is that I don’t remember growing up and hating my body. When I say this, I mean all the way through adolescence and most of high school. Sure, there were spurts of time where I would start to feel self-conscious about something here or there, but I never thought about it.
First let me paint you a picture. Growing up, I wasn’t exactly the smallest girl on the playground, but I didn’t have too much baby fat either. My thighs, calves and butt had some…substance to them. I was a happy kid, however; shy but happy. In high school, I was never one to “flaunt my stuff,” but I never developed the body issues. At least not yet.
It wasn’t until later in my high school career, after a couple of devastating romantic blows and some back handed remarks from people close to me, the resolve that was held in my mind started to crumble around me.
Suddenly, the dark brown hair that fell to my shoulders, that I sometimes cut to fun shorter lengths was no longer cute – it needed to be red, or blonde…hell, even blue. I became obsessed with tanning; my pale, clear skin was no longer good enough. Never bothering with makeup before, I began heavily painting my eyes with black eyeliner and other colors. I even became so obsessed with my image that I started smoking.
But the biggest effect this shift had on me was the attention I paid to my weight. I was no longer satisfied with the little extra bits of me there was to love. That is when the unhealthy behavior started. So, on top of the fact that my wild streak was just starting to take off, my brain decided to throw in this fun side issues in the form of binge eating and a small case of anorexia.
I would go through fluctuating periods of not eating and eating way too much – and when I was eating, it was nothing but junk. I was constantly smoking cigarettes to keep away the food cravings. I wasn’t even exercising, however. I spent most nights partying, so the strain on my body continued to pile up. And this was only the beginning of the troubles.