I stand in the shower head against the tile wondering is my life worth living. The water turns from hot to ice cold down the drain spinning. Why Me? Why Me? Why Me? I want to be “normal”. I want thoughts of better days but that’s impossible when my mind is a dead end maze. I’m good one minute, psycho the next. Ohh Hello BI-POLAR you came out to play. Is this just a brief stop or you deciding to stay. Come along the ride with DEPRESSION and pick up ANXIETY while you are at it. A MANIC trio on a road of disaster. Charles take these HAPPY pills it will swallow the pain and agony but in reality I’m swallowed whole grasping for air. I see a little light…HOPE.
I am not ashamed to say it. It’s the Stigma that shames us all. Just thankful to shed some light upon my darkest hours. We scroll up and down Facebook overlooking the underlying issues of one in danger or seeking help.
There’s only One that Sees and Hears the Pain We Hide From Others. A tear is made of 1% water and 99% feelings. Sometimes sad memories sneak out my eyes and roll down my cheeks. I hide behind my smile and laughter that it breaks my heart and I’m falling apart. Behind my brown eyes are so many hidden tears and behind my body is a soul trying to fight.
Hi, I’m Charles. I don’t thank my Bipolar. For anything. Not a single thing. I acknowledge my illness, I understand it, I make my peace, but I don’t give my Bipolar any credit. That belongs to me. With or without it I’m fabulous. And my Mental illness can go fuck itself.
If I could take a pill that would cure me, I would snatch it right out of your hand and swallow it dry. Because my Bipolar Disorder doesn’t make me special, it makes my life complicated. My Bipolar Disorder doesn’t make me brave. It’s not the source of my strength. It lingers under the surface of my consciousness, wheedling into my brain and poisoning how I feel about myself and how I experience the world.
I’m special, brave, strong, and talented without my illness. Bipolar Disorder isn’t a trial that I need to tackle in order to show the world I’m tough enough. I don’t need an illness to exaggerate my awesomeness. With an illness that mimics identity it can be hard to tell where Bipolar ends and I begin. The boundaries are never that distinct. But my Bipolar Disorder isn’t a badge. It’s a label, a diagnosis, a hefty, troublesome detail. My Bipolar doesn’t get to take a bow.
Man, what the hell? Your energy is all over the goddamn place. One day you’re bouncing off walls, and beds, and thoughts and you can’t stop thinking or talking long enough to hear someone is speaking to you. I know you hear it, I know you hear me. I know there’s at least a buzzing in your inner ear that calls your attention A whispering child that’s begging for two seconds of your time.
Other days, seem like nights It’s quiet in there Literally nothing is on Nothing is open You’re off. Thoughts are like molasses when they happen and when they don’t you’re not surprised you’re relieved, even. Glad you don’t have to muster the energy muster the motivation to breathe a millisecond faster than you already need to. There are these orange see-through bottles on your nightstand. They have these marbles inside At least I think they’re marbles Except you swallow them and they come in different shapes and sizes and colors I can’t pronounce them sometimes but the one by the alarm clock right now is easy: Lithium Next to it, there’s Lamictal, and then Vrylar. Your psychiatrist said that’s the old-type name. Who knows what that means. It still stops the tremors that Lithium keeps gifting you.
You’re given this really neat marble collector cabinet. They are mini-cabinets for the marbles by day. Monday Tuesday Wednesday Thursday Friday If you wake up, that is. Twice a day with a meal If you eat, that is. Don’t forget to take them though, I’m scared you won’t wake up again if you stop taking the marbles. They’re good for you and so am I. Day N’ Night.
I once read a story a long time ago that Depression was like a bad dog who creeps up on you slow. I have Bipolar Disorder it’s an ugly disease another kind of bad dog who never really leaves. Yet training this bad dog has taught things to me, sometimes hard to remember, but I can think of THREE. The FIRST is to find the silver lining of things if I see only dark only pain it brings. The SECOND is to think outside of the box to learn coping skills and ways to detox. The THIRD is learning how to talk about pain and not suffer alone with nothing to gain. Taming the bad dog was harder than hell it took years of my life and left me a shell. But looking on the bright side, I take heart to know that despite the dark winter I managed and continued to grow.
I fell in Love with the Hatred. Love being Hated. Why you want to hate me? Why would you want to hate me. It’s mental, it’s all in your thoughts. Love & Hate are 2 powerful tools thrown in so many directions to describe our feelings, thoughts and emotions. We can love and hate the same person, place or things.
I love my father because he gave you Charles but I hate him for being an absent father. I used to love drinking and drugging but I hate the effects it caused to harm my life. I love being happy but I hate the bipolar tendencies it brings. It’s a love/hate relationship we all live. Like ying & yang, love and hate can’t live without each other.
My Addictions: You love me one minute but hate me the next. That’s too much Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde. I love, hate and miss you but I’m better off without you. I never wanted you out my life but I had to let you go. You got to do the right thing.
I found my Genie, she was hiding in the coke bottle shaped lines. Mind altering thoughts that intertwined with my moods. I went toe to toe, blow for blow that I became a competitive coke head going line for line. I was high all the time literally and figuratively, but the crash was gut-wrenching. I’m Numb.
I had that dope sick love, that dope sick hate. Talking a mile a minute, heart like speed racer to ending with shakes and sweats. How could you make me feel so low that I continued to snort so much to bring me back that high? You were so light but brought me heavy burden. You were so pure but polluted my body. Drip Drip.
The 2nd most addictive substance in the world and I mixed you with the 5th most: Alcohol. You two were peas in a pod. My Bonnie & Clyde. I needed my stimulant and my depressant to level myself out. You two were a bad mama jama. I took you for granted and became paralyzed to the disease. I’m blessed to be alive but forever a drug addict.
I put myself in other shoes they called me Bipolar. Call me Bipolar, I’m the happiest mad man right in front of you. You don’t know my story, my struggle, the demons that I combat daily. I tell myself I’m unique but why do I feel weak? I’m a maniac within my own mind, a prisoner to say the least.
I feel lonely, isolated and suffering at times. Everything takes a backseat in my depressed state of mind including my friends and family. When I was in my active addictions to a point I never imagined I would reach, my depression experienced hopelessness, deep sadness and loss of energy. My lack of interests from sex to even watching television were too little. Sleeping to long or too little my mind races with suicidal thoughts. It’s not easy living with Bipolar, but it can be more difficult when the people around you don’t understand your diagnosis.
I’m medicated, educated and dedicated towards my mental illness. I don’t hide behind what I am because I admit I’m Bipolar. I have multiple moods that are sometimes out of my control. I face them head on with full force. Bare with me and stand by me instead of being afraid or nervous. I love a good challenge and I must overcome. Thank You.
I remember …every single time you abandoned me in a car to chase your own desires …every single time you smoked your son away from your mind …every single time you forgot about your baby boy born …every single time you only focused on your new so-called Drugs I remember.
Do you remember …I cried for hours for reasons a nine-year old shouldn’t have to comprehend …I scored a game winning run and searched for you but you were nowhere to be found …I came flying to you, ecstatic over my perfect grades, only to be swatted away …I saw other daddies embracing their children while you clung to your cravings Do you remember?
You don’t remember …How could you know my pain that you have never allowed yourself to see …How could you know my pain that you were never forced to grasp …How could you know my pain that you never tasted …How could you know my pain that you never heard You don’t remember.
Do you want to hear about what I know now …I know now that you are not a Father, someone to trust and appreciate …I know now that you are just a man, broken and lost …I know now that you are a contradiction, someone who destroys and builds …I know now that you are a child, as was I This is what I know now.
I know who we are Mom, together we’re addicts They asked me how I was affected at the situations you exposed and reflected Did you know what it was like as a child feeling alone? Your sitting right next to me but you’re not really home. I prayed to God to help you… So I could have the mom back that I once knew Take a deep breathe Ma… I’m with you. Time after time you tried to explain…. Why I’m 9 years old watching the addiction you maintain. Why are you so angry all the time? I don’t know what I did. But until you got your fix alone in your room you hid. Why wasn’t I important like the addiction was to you? You dropped me off at Grandma’s an said this will half to do. When you left I wondered why you didn’t want me. And if it was because I made you angry If so then Ma I’m sorry. I can be GOOD I can do BETTER Just PLEASE mom as long as we can be together. And you left and did what you thought mattered. Did you know in that driveway you left my well being shattered. Grandma would yell when I’d cry and I didn’t understand. This can’t be the life for me that you had planned. Grandma would tell me it wasn’t my fault It was something you were going through maybe a sickness you had caught. Grandma was so sad she said she didn’t want me around your lifestyle So until you got better this is how life would be for awhile. Some days you were wasted others very high thats how I remember each and every goodbye. You didn’t think I knew just what you were doing, Or how bad I knew your Addiction was pursuing. Telling me I know nothing, or what it’s all about As I watched it turn you completely inside out. I’ve never used, abused or craved you just yet BUT I KNOW WHAT YOU ARE. You took my mother from me and into darkness you walked her so very far. For so many years now you have had control! Taking her heart,mind,body and soul. You came first, She craved your power as if it was hunger or thirst. I’ve never submitted myself to you just yet BUT I KNOW WHAT YOU ARE. Your easy to get You don’t have to look far. You didn’t care that she was a good person Better yet that made it easier insertion. You had her hooked after just one try Not knowing when you were gone she’d want to die. I watched her do awful things just to have you in her hands But it’s not her fault it’s what your Addiction demands. And you come back Oh you always come back…. You know when shes vulnerable So you pick up her slack. She cant live her life without you in it every single day She doesn’t care about nothing your trying to preach or pray And then one day you’ll make her hit rock bottom And the Addiction inside of her will whisper “GOT EM” This drug is very dangerous Won’t stop till it fulfills death I KNOW WHAT YOU ARE they call you
3 Years Ago I had a different plan but today I’m Alive…
“Pen and pad in my hand, and I was writing a note. Didn’t get far, as soon as I wrote down “Mom” I just stopped. Couldn’t lie to her, couldn’t figure out how to say bye to her. Couldn’t explain the “Why” to her. Couldn’t picture her getting a call or somebody saying her son had died to her.” – (Joe Budden – Only Human)
SEPTEMBER 19, 2017 was my set date I planned to leave this earth. I was sick of crying, tired of trying, yes I was smiling but inside I was dying.
They say God works in mysterious ways. Well I definitely believe that. After 1 year and 2 weeks clean and sober I questioned what else is there to life? It was the very first time in my life I contemplated living or dying. Just how I hid my addictions, I hid this too.
I questioned what else is there to life? It was the very first time in my life I contemplated living or dying. I thought about death wondering how I was gonna go. I couldn’t be insane for just wanting to know but in my head I died often.
Framing suicide as a method to get attention paints those who are sick as manipulative, when in fact, they are simply really ill. I’m ill. In addition, even if a suicide attempt is a cry for help, it means they need help–so let’s help! My depression and bipolar overtook my mind to think lower of myself.
Suicide doesn’t end the chances of life getting worse, suicide eliminates the possibility of it ever getting better.
The emotions, feelings, thoughts, addictions, and depression I had faced daily were now burdens lifted off my shoulders. I had overcome such adversities throughout my life and I wouldn’t allow the easy way out — SUICIDE. I always stress reach out to each other. No one knows what goes on in my head just like anyone else. I can text anyone back “LOL” but I wasn’t laughing at all.