A BLACKNESS DARK

In the dark
Defenses are thin
The monsters howl
Begging to be let in

The rain falls down
A staccato beat on the roof
Echoing the tears in my heart
That will not fall

Access denied
Feeling aloof
To the pain in my soul
A blackness dark
Coats my very existence

The monsters wail
Begging to be fed
Promising light after the blood
To slumber in the post pain haze

I know the truth
Of their existence
Never sated, always begging for more
The cravings deep

Alone in the night
With the monsters in my head
In my heart
In my soul
Filling the cracks with blood
In the place of tears

BLOOD AND PAIN

When the heart weeps

Yet no tears come

When words won’t come

And all that is left

Is an unnameable

Something

That begs releasee

Escape

A way out

From the too too much

That cannot be

Identified

How does one

Find relief

From what one does not

Recognize

Except to let it out

In blood

And pain

SIREN

The last few weeks have been brutal. I know in the very depths of my being that things will get better, but right now they’re just so hard.

SIREN

I stare at the water

It’s aqua waves calling

Inviting to slip under

Into Oblivion

I walk away

From the Sirens call

The blades in my hand

Beckoning tantalyzing

One quick swipe

And freedom

I walk away

From the Sirens call

Through the heart

The silver moonlight

Dances on the thinnest of knives

Kill the heart

That causes all your pain

I walk away

From the Sirens call

I walk away

From the Sirens call

WHO AM I

Numb

An emotional lockdown

Fearful

That once the walls crumble

There will be no relief

Sorrow

Runs deep

Permeates my very essence

If I allow myself to feel

The full depths

Would I ever recover

Fear of getting “better”

Of never getting “better”

I’m not sure I could bear

That this is the way

It will always be

Yearning

For a family that doesn’t exist

For what worth have i

If I’m rejected by those

Who share my blood

That nameless ache

Undefinable

Intangible

Pervasive

Both physically

And in my pysche

A part of me

Steadfast

True

Who am I?

LIGHT AS THE BREEZE

it’s been so long since I’ve felt the pull of hypomania. And right now as I sink ever deeper into the pit, I find I’m missing the ethereal highs. Right now all I feel is despondency and despair. And I can’t even cry about it. The freedom to cry has been locked down so tight for so long that the tears won’t flow freely. Oh, my eyes, they water, and I get a lump in my throat, but just silent tears running down my cheeks. Not satisfying at all.

I wrote this while coming down from a hypomanic high. Back when I was undiagnosed and, or rather, misdiagnosed, with unipolar depression. One day I may lose myself in the upward pull, but today is not that day.

LIGHT AS THE BREEZE

Free at last

Running soaring

Leaping flying

Unburdened by despair

Hope no longer

Just another

Four letter word

Light as the breeze

A leaf on the wind

Blowing where it takes me

Whirling

Spiralling

Up and down

Disintigrating

Into

Nothing

IF ONLY

It’s been a long time since I posted anything. Life has been dark and I have been in a state of broken disrepair, unable to write.

Tonight it appears the dam is cracking and I can write about the childhood that broke me.

IF ONLY

If my presence offends you

I can only beg forgiveness

And apologize for my sins

However slight

The pain

The tears

Never knowing

What might set you off

If only

If only I was quieter

If only

If only I was more docile

If only

If only I was the daughter you wanted

Not the one you received

Not wanted

Unplanned

A mistake

I don’t ever remember

Not knowing this

Shut up

I don’t want to hear it

You know why

Heartbroken

Alone in my room

Snot and tears

Mingling on the

Flowered bed spread

No succour

A pariah

Hours alone

Today you wonder why

I need so much

Time by myself

You trained me

Isolated me

Self reliant

To not need

To not feel

To not cry

WAY TOO FAST

Pulled down by the undertow

Staring up at the sun

Unattainable

Sinking fast

Tired of the fight

Can’t keep my head above the water

Current moving down

Way too fast

The salt on my cheeks

Can’t look up up

Overwhelmed by the tide

Way too fast

Drowning in my tears

Can’t breathe

Can’t see beyond the blood

Life drags by

Way too fast

THE AIR

I’ve recently started EMDR for my PTSD. And it is one of the hardest things I’ve ever done. Going back into the memory while tracking your therapists hand movements. And the fact that those memories that you have tried so hard to bottle up now run rampant through your brain. Through your waking hours. Through the few hours of respite you get a night. And the worse time of all, that gap between wakefulness and unconsciousness.

Laying in bed

Your ghost beside me

Sucking the air

Out of the room

I remember your hands

Your body

Taking what you wanted

Not what I gave

Memory

Continues to suck

All the air

Out of the room

I couldn’t breathe then

I can’t breathe now

Here alone

Laying in bed

Violating me

Over and over again

Sucking the air

Out of the room

Tears I couldn’t shed then

Pour now down my cheeks

Torment and despair

Sucking the air

Out of the room

Bi-Polar, C-PTSD, and Me

Are we our diagnoses, are they us, or is there some sort of medium where we can be us, certainly shaped by our illness(es) but not defined by them.  My diagnoses came late in life, after being treated, inaccurately (and thus with a resounding lack of success for almost 20 years), for major depressive disorder.  I recently found an old book of poetry I had written back in high school, and one of the poems from when I was 16 could have been written by me, today, in a hypomanic phase.  I prefer phase to state, it seems less foreboding and permanent.

I used to pride myself on the fact that my past may have shaped me, but it didn’t define me.  Someday I might share with you the rough history that is mine, but not today.  Suffice it to say that my therapist used the term “very horrific” to describe my legacy.  Unfortunately, I have had to accept that fact that it did do more than shape me, it did, indeed, define me and the numerous ways I see myself.

But that’s ok.  Language evolves.  Definitions change.  And the me that is today, defined by my experiences, does not have to be the me of tomorrow.  I can learn to make better choices, do things differently.  And when the siren’s songs come, I can make choices toward the future, as opposed to reacting from the past.

Mindfulness, being aware of what you’re doing and WHY you’re reacting a certain way, helps to create new habits, new understandings, and new approaches.  Am I there?  Not even close.  Do I believe?  Yeah, today I do. It’s damn hard, but somehow, some way, I will find the strength to overcome.  I have to.

The alternative is untenable.

Dark Thoughts 

This time of night,  the time right before I go to bed,  is always the hardest for me.  It’s when the suicidal ideation so familiar to those with bipolar hits hardest.

And the past three weeks and counting I’ve been dealing with completely immersive Flashbacks and the accompanying dissociative episodes.  Makes the idea of going to sleep and never waking up so appealing.  But I have babies who need me,  so instead I write my pain and wake again to suffer through another day.

The surf crashing
Into the shore
A slow easy rhythm
Beatimg on the rocks

Would they welcome me
Hold me tight
As I slip beneath
One final cold embrace

A tribute to Poseidon
Of body and soul

My final breath
Given freely
One final pain
Before an eternity of peace

If the body holds the pain
Will the soul still suffer
When the body is gone

An offering
Of blood and flesh
To beg release
A surcease of pain

Searing solid
A hard fiery punch
To the gut
Over and over

My soul cracking
Slowly breaking
Disintegrating
Leaving an empty
Hungry void

The only sating
Of the hollow void
Is pain
And more pain

A never ending
Surfeit of hurt
That kills
All joy
Sleep
Happiness

Floating on the waves
Slowly sinking below
Till all the pain is washed away

A release
In the final sacrificial gift