Concealed

Ghost-fingers cold–

That spine-shuddering touch,

Eyes scream out in unknowing fear.

Emptied of dreams; memories–

They fall into a dark chasm,

Forsaken, purged by lightning,

Agony–

Again! Again!

Those hopes in trust–

Smeared into opaque nothingness,

Irrelevantly hoping–

Still met by a stranger,

Bereft of words,

Emotions swirling downstream.

Cast into the crucible of torment–

Straining against the surges that come.

Once proud foundations–

Crumbling decay into rot,

Detritus swept away by an outgoing tide.

Chuggy McChuggerson

Score: 3

Today was one of the better that I’ve had recently. I was active, productive and further entrenching my relevance in the workplace.

Tonight though, I’m still a little sad. I played a lot of music that brought me back. I do miss them, and their love, but the time for that has passed. I am what I have earned. I carry the weight of my decisions, every day. There are just some moral boundaries I will never cross, so no guilt or need of repentance is shielded from plain sight.

There is no point in struggling over the past, and the tendrils of regret slithering their way through it. Nothing can be resolved. Never. Wounds that don’t fester, but stay open and fresh, reminding. That is my quandary.

I have already said goodbye to them. There is no more to be done but turn away and walk into a new yet distant narrative.

Expectations should be realistic, and therefore, achievable. There is a big cookie of satisfaction for those who meet their target. I have on multiple occasions enjoyed that glorious victory cookie, but have also dropped it into the cat litterbox more than once. Goals should be achievable, not powder puff nor Mount Everest.

I feel relevant. Involved. I’m not fading away in shame, I’m thriving in the only reality I know.

12. We will never give up hope.

Explodey-Head

Hi Blog. I have detailed my depression centered lack of expressions, but that doesn’t mean I was idle. I graduated from NAMI Peer-To-Peer and snagged a Connection Recovery Support Group Facilitator certification. With some practice and knowledge acquisition, I fully intend to regularly facilitate a daytime Connection group at American River College.

NAMI is also lining up several outreach events in the last half of August and into a full September.

Those good thing having now been said, I am also having some noticeable side effects since I started the Risperdal. Two things:

  1. My mood and motivation have been noticeably changing. After tomorrow, I should know whether or not the med and I have a truce. In the meantime, I’m dealing with a symptom that I have affectionately named “head-explodies.” This feels like there are, occasionally, little cramps in my brain that cause a moment of disorientation, but resolve quickly. In the past, I have experienced them on withdrawal, but this time as I’m cycling up. Hopefully it’s not too long-lasting. I’m going to give it the full two weeks and talk to my doctor after.
  2. I have noticed a significant increase in motivation. I am starting to make something of the down time I have, instead of loafing or otherwise remaining inert. This is a promising sign for me because getting things done is what I’m all about. It’s odd, I don’t feel particularly happy, but I am able to work and put my mind to accomplishing something of worth much easier than it had been a few days ago.

I’m also going to start keeping those daily scores again as I transition on to the new medications I’m taking. This sort of data helps my doctors see me in a way that makes sense to them. Makes sense for me too, as I am a very data-driven individual. My skills have helped get me on a path that is actually going somewhere, with a future I am eager to participate in. Hopefully the new medication will work out, but there is definitely no certainty. We are are aware of the ongoing science experiment on mentally ill individuals we call BigPharma. Their guessing and presumptatory science sometimes has good, or terrible outcomes.

The side-effect cannon fire goes on into the night… and that Goddamn belltower… I hope those fucking Side-Effects blow that thing up and relieve us all of the incessant noise of the bell being rung. I JUST NEED AN HOUR TO GET SOME SLEEP! FUCKING WAR IS SUCH A PAIN IN THE ASS!

Brick-Related Nonesene

I have found my words to be infrequent. I’m less inclined to open, having found safety in being closed.

I’m understanding my uniqueness better, in terms that aren’t shaming (mostly). I feel untethered from possibility because of the inherent isolation imposed by my traits, flaws, preferences and composition. The bridge I built to acceptance spans a mighty chasm, but will endure (show me how to unknow something and you can have my adoration).

Bricks are appropriate because you can’t make anything with just a couple and it usually takes a shitload of them all piled up to assemble something worth marveling at.

Just like bricks, their integrity remains solid until the ground starts moving.

I see out from the peephole. I’m here, but I only want to come out if I have one of my masks on. I have become familiar with how it fits, but it is still taking little pipet-drops away each time. I don’t notice it happening, I just do what I have to in the present. I see the quantity getting lower only as I glance away and back again after a time.

This is the mode. Survival is paramount; effectiveness depends on forward momentum. The masking suits that idea, while shielding. I won’t argue that it’s healthy, but it is not overtly destructive. My personas help move my life forward in most cases, and they are still me. Yet, they dissolve away in my solitude, and the truth hidden behind the guise is exposed. Within me lies the pile of smelly socks that is the inmost nature my true self. Having a history of repulsion, the imagery seemed appropriate.

Do you know what I’m talking about? I have simply embraced my “never” and moved on. Do you know what “never again” feels like? I do. I remind myself every day that choices have consequences.

More words will come, and maybe they will be more coherent next time.

Gurjection

My trajectory has been unclear recently, or, wobblier than usual. Symptoms have cost me much of the momentum I had going, but not forever.

These down times are a regular event in my town. We get out the fancy streamers and everyone dresses up like sad clowns. Tickets available on StubHub.

Point being, I’ve survived worse and more help is on the horizon.

I have recently established a career path that is ever curving toward a fully self-sustaining state. 40 hours a week. I can, quite literally, raise money to pay my salary through my own actions. A successful grant or two would accomplish that. This is the full time plateau I have sought.

I have been here with me the whole time, and I can say with confidence that he is doing about as well as he ever has. I’m pleased that he hasn’t imploded into a singularity or shattered the world with recklessly destructive explodination-related incendiary activities.

Fight! Do not let Toejamela McHosebeasterson put the sweaty foot to your throat. There is a shitload left to do our here in the world. Are you going to let Moopybritches Sucktoadersplats kick your ass today? I didn’t think so Charlie Championship. So grab your vitamin water and spiked cudgel and get out there! Let’s do this!!

My pep talks only work on the hopelessly insane.

Less-Spikey

My emotional regulation has been “askew” as it were, but also quite volatile. I imagine my emotional planet during the Late Heavy Bombardment, with a surface slowly succumbing to a primordial molten state… I’d rather not reach that point, which is a lifeless one to say the least.

Being alive is being in the real, the now, and present in the moment of existence in which we find ourselves. When I’m experiencing symptoms, reality is often filtered through a kaleidoscope of nonsensical responses, urges, reactions, thoughts and core feelings in clear defiance of logic or common sense based coherence. There is some part of me that is going, “hey, wait a second… that sounds pretty fucked up.” That’s the logic guy, he hasn’t been corrupted yet because he is strong. That part of me is the last bastion before the deep, black chasm of forgetting.

I don’t feel under siege just yet, but the armies of darkness are out there, inching closer.

Enough of that. The truth is, there will always be a part of me that will strain, because it goes on unacknowledged. I’d say that only 1 person in my whole life even has a good understanding of my personality and not run away screaming. Others have tried, and they were repelled, tortured, and damaged in their attempts to disarm or simply survive my radioactive properties. Sadly, being Bipolar and never truly having any handle on it created the inevitable trail of bodies in my wake as I shambled recklessly along the path of life. The guilt hangs on me like a heavy sack of feed that the animals of depression plunder as I toil forward. I have managed to become strong enough to not be constantly crushed by that load, and still make something positive of my life.

I work so hard being proud of who I am, but no one sees me. I have come to a place in my life where I am okay with not being “seen.” I know what it feels like, for the brief glimmers and shining moments in my adolescence I captured lightning in my hands. I know what I felt, the power and majesty of love, and no one can take it from me. If I go on in my reality without ever having that again, I am okay with that. I will not die in ignorance of happiness.

Looking up. I know who I am. Things are hard now, but I’m doing good holding my pants on without my belt. My recent plateau of stability is eroding…