FMLB Reset Boop

April 18, 2019 by ssnri in Article, Sports Pontifications and tagged Anxiety, Fantasy Baseball, Fantasy Sports, Mental Health, Mental Illness, MLB

I’m changing the scoring system in the league today. This is what I was trying to figure out with my artificial league in my first experiment with fantasy baseball. I needed to find out what day-to-day scoring looks like. The ups and downs, the flashes and fizzles… then create a league scoring system that was both competitive and fair. Based on player skills, dramatic achievements and overall consistency. I didn’t know how to score a league how I had conceived it in my mind, since I’ve never played in one before, Head-to-Head. Now that I have seen what it looks like, I noticed a few things:

If I’m scoring Assists, why not Put Outs? The Put Out is the real scoring play, not the Assist. This has been added and both have been scaled.
Pitchers are not getting penalized for Hits, and scoring double on Relief Wins. This stat has been eliminated.
Grounding Into Double Plays is overly penalized considering its day-to-day value.
Runs and Hits for batters should have their values juxtaposed.
Triples should not be worth more than Home Runs.
Batters should be smacked for Balks, period.
OFAs are now worth 20 times more than regular Assists: degree of difficulty, yo.
Other categories were scaled and balanced as well

I concluded I wanted regular offensive players to have scaling and incremental scoring over the period of the day-to-day activities. Pitchers should provide massive bursts (potentially) of scoring to push a manager over the top or projection. Pitchers can make you or break you, but without consistency you’re nothing. After much testing and deliberation, I have decided on the final settings that will carry on into perpetuity. There might be a chance that I could revise again after the season was over, but I felt it necessary to do so now in order to not diminish the season’s potential. If I held on to the same rudimentary settings all year, It would be a disappointment. If I change them now, there’s still 18 weeks of fun now that I know much more than I did when I started.

This is going to be fun!

See below for all the categories on both sides of the ball that I’;m going to be scoring. This is going to be a fiercely competitive league, with a serious threat in the league of sound defeat. Things are much more balanced than they have been for the first three weeks. Things are going to be very different now, and much more interesting.

Outer Seeker

April 17, 2019 by ssnri in Mental Illness, Rant and tagged ADD, Anxiety, Bipolar, Depression, Emotions, Family, Introspection, Life, Loss, Love, Mental Health, Mental Illness, NAMI, Pride, Relationships, Sacramento, Self, Sex, Society, Thoughts, Volunteer, Work

Just completed class 6 of 8 for NAMI Peer-To-Peer. Leading flips my sullen to smiley. Today I was feeling depressed for most of the time I was at work. Then I got busy, but occasionally my sadness would flutter back in. It never leaves the room, but it might land somewhere else for a while. I put on my teacher mask and somehow that rejuvenated me.

Sometimes I feel like I’m being flattened in a vise. Yet, there is still such joy in life. There are beautiful things happening all around. New people I meet. Fresh faces that have their own stories. I see a future where compassion is the currency. I’m an idiot though. I fumble through doing my best as you have no doubt seen.

I wonder about where my path is going. Abstractly it seems positive, but calamity wears many disguises. I’m lonely enough to fall to my doom over a woman, or become ensnared in the deliberations and reconsiderations of work.

The truth is simple: no one else needs to care if I do. I pine for affection, even here in this vast echo chamber. I give nothing of substance yet expect expect expect. I think the world appreciates me, when I could just as easily be a used gum smudge on the sidewalk. Craving your approval, I bend myself to fit a shape you’d desire. This has always been folly. It continues to be.

Have a good night Blog.

Boingy

April 10, 2019 by ssnri in Mental Illness, Rant and tagged Anxiety, Bipolar, Depression, Emotions, Life, Mental Health, Mental Illness, NAMI, Pride, Relationships, Self, Sex, Thoughts, Volunteer, Work

I was feeling a little “up” after all the hooplah, but I feel like that’s all wearing off. I don’t think I’m handling things well, but I am trying to improve my behaviors. I’ve left a shadow on the wall of the future, and that’s the best I think I can do given all the turmoil in my life. I try to be present in my reality, but it is often quite painful, and negative. To escape it solves nothing.

I did some work on my peer story for the IOOV program I just got trained in. It will be refreshing to tell the story of how I came to be where I am in terms of my mental wellness. I’m not saying that journey is at all over, mind you. Recovery is never reached, it is only reached for. I hoe to inspire others to seek the help they need to improve their lives.

I think I did good in encapsulating my story in a few minutes. Like 9 to be exact.

I think it’s worth telling because it wasn’t perfect at all. it was a flawed journey of pain and suffering for all. I spared none in my path of destruction. Still even. Still I’m hurting people and leaving bodies in the dirt. I regret that I can’t be friends with the people who’s path diverges from mine. We are all so apocalyptic.

But I’m not an idiot and I do learn to grow and adapt. This whole communication with girls business being a good example of just how easy it can be to get my perspective destroyed and responses all fucked up. I try, I fail, and then I just try something different next time.

I don’t know, Blog. I feel lost sometimes, and other times I feel great. It’s perplexing, this Bipolar disorder. I think after I teach class tonight solo, I will feel pretty good. That activity tends to heal me, or at least boost me up a bit. What am I doing, though? Ah, at this point… who fucking knows? Survive.

Disregard Them

April 7, 2019 by ssnri in Mental Illness, Rant and tagged Anxiety, Bipolar, Depression, Emotions, Introspection, Life, Loss, Love, Mental Health, Mental Illness, Pride, Relationships, Self, Sex, Thoughts, Trauma

It’s clear I’ve been grappling with my self-created frustrating circumstances over the last few days. I’ve also tried to reconcile what I think I’m looking for out there in the world. I came up well short asking too much of A and not able to see the limitations of S through the veil of sex. That’s my fault, and the hurt on both sides is real.

As I do with most life-obstacles, I grow and change in order to survive new circumstances. I have shackled myself to burdensome people in the past and continued to do so until, well, now. I’m grasping for meaning in a place where there isn’t any to be had. It’s a shame I wasted my time in this way, but I’ve also learned a bit about my “wants” when it comes to friendships and beyond.

I need to thicken up my skin, since my lifetime of rejection and dismissal seems headed in the same disappointing direction it always has. I’ve shed my concern for those who don’t fit into my life. Disregard is all I have left. I feel no shame. This is my life last time I checked, and I’m not wasting any more of it investing resources where there is no value in doing so. Nothing I hate more than being unappreciated for the person I am while pouring unrequited, liquid praise on those in my circle.

So enough is enough. No more scratching around the junk pile for the scraps of a structure long demolished. No more reckless attachment to inadequate figures regardless of physical urges. The future must have someone of genuine, undeniable value to be worth pursuing. I’ve said also that I’m only interested in going it alone in my reality, and that’s still true, pretty much. I’m not making any extraordinary effort to find someone, because I really don’t need anyone. I’m consistently doing better mentally when no one else is involved.

Confidence has always been here, it just got smothered by disappointment. Trying and failing can be tough, but even now, my introspective processes are on-point and rational. I can’t say the same for A or S. I’m angry still at them. I feel like I had so much to give, yet, I get tossed aside like a soggy jizz rag. No more I say!

Well…

April 5, 2019 by ssnri in Mental Illness, Rant and tagged Anxiety, Bipolar, Depression, Divorce, Emotions, Family, Introspection, Life, Loss, Mental Health, Mental Illness, Nightmares, Relationships, Self, Sex, Society, Suicide, Thoughts, Trauma

Okay, so I’m pretty angry that my social experiment has totally failed. What was I thinking, strangers don’t get me, past acquaintances still don’t care about me, yet, this was the place I looked to in order to rekindle my connections with people? I put my faith in people who have disappointed me numerous times in the past and total strangers who know nothing about me at all?

I’m an idiot, period. Ima fry because I’m stupid. I’m alone because I invest in projects that I should leave on the junk pile. I need no one but myself.

Yet, I felt the need to appease my aching loneliness with a remedy destined to disappoint and aggravate. S was a sallow and dimensionless simpleton. A has been a disappointment in all capacities since I got with her. WHAT THE FUCK AMI DOING?!?!?

Laugh all you want. I deserve that. My pain and suffering can be your amusement because it’s deserved. I earned this anger and humiliation. I blame no one but myself. Hopefully I contracted HIV and will die soon.

I’ve never cared about how people read me. If you come here thinking some valuable content is going to be dispersed think again. I’m the biggest fucking idiot I’ve ever heard of, and I have not ceased to amaze myself with my own stupidity and foolishness. Go ahead and get a good laugh you troglodytes. Fuck you all. You never did a fucking thing for me despite my pouring my soul out here night after night.

I’m losing my mind. I’m really fucking going insane right now. I hate this. I hate every moment that no one gives a fried shit about me. No one will, ever. I’m alone. I have been scraping the scum to find someone who will care about me, but even I don’t. I wish I were dead.

Tried

April 5, 2019 by ssnri in Mental Illness and tagged Bipolar, Depression, Emotions, Introspection, Loss, Love, Mental Health, Mental Illness, Relationships, Sex, Thoughts

I messages S and told her I was sorry if I hurt her. I don’t think there was any sort of friendship there. She never once told me that she appreciated our friendship, but did thank me for my kind words. I felt fundamentally unrecognized in that arrangement. I needed to try to express that I did care but didn’t feel like that was mutual. Is it wrong of me to try and explain myself? I acted rashly and that should not go without explanation. We did have a few good moments. However, those ups were overshadowed by my being ignore or responded to with one or three words a day. I mean, why am I investing in that? Why pine for someone who basically doesn’t care what I’m doing? I hate pining. I’m not a beggar, I’m a beacon.

Well I’m probably exiled anyway so at least I tried to reach out and set the record straight. I’m not callous, I just don’t tolerate poor treatment for brief physicality. I don’t pour out my soul to be ignored. Would you?

She blocked me so whatever. I’ll settle with whatever awful feelings she has for me. I’ll go forward totally unacknowledged and unresolved. I’m worth more than this bullshit. Why do I even bother with this random matchmaking nonsense. Such crap. Useless expenditure of energy. I tried to explain but why even bother. Fuck her.

Tried

April 5, 2019 by ssnri in Mental Illness and tagged Bipolar, Depression, Emotions, Introspection, Loss, Love, Mental Health, Mental Illness, Relationships, Sex, Thoughts

This is goodnight.

Emulated

April 5, 2019 by ssnri in Mental Illness, Rant and tagged Anxiety, Bipolar, Depression, Emotions, Love, Mental Health, Mental Illness, Relationships, Self, Thoughts

I often gain inspiration from my partners. I copy their positive behaviors out of admiration. It is the potential to make me a stronger person that I relish. I have the drive, but love provides the focus. I have been scraping for this and failed to find it. I know I need to be conscious of that desire to emulate before I partner with anyone else.

Reset Button

April 5, 2019 by ssnri in Mental Illness, Rant, Status Updates and tagged Anxiety, Bipolar, Depression, Emotions, Family, Introspection, Life, Mental Health, Mental Illness, Relationships, Self, Sex, Society, Thoughts, Trauma

It’s the end of the week, but just the beginning in a lot of ways. I keep learning and failure is my teacher.

I need to find better ways to cope with my sadness and loneliness. There’s no external that can mend the internal.

I’m disappearing into routine. There has been too much pain in my heart. Am I done providing a catalyst to destructive situations? Why look where there is nothing to find?

Alone is best.

Soften

April 4, 2019 by ssnri in Mental Illness, Status Updates and tagged Anxiety, Bipolar, Depression, Emotions, Loss, Mental Health, Mental Illness, Relationships, Self, Sex, Thoughts

I was feeling fairly apocalyptic earlier. That has subsided a bit. I am still unhappy, but in a better place mentally. It’s frustrating. I am glad for my friends and support team.

I wish I knew how I was going to get through this, but I know I’m not going to have anyone with me. I will walk alone most likely. Maybe that’s for the best.

I’ve hurt so many. I live with that.

Eject?

April 4, 2019 by ssnri in Mental Illness, Rant, Status Updates and tagged Anxiety, Bipolar, Depression, Emotions, Family, Life, Medications, Mental Health, Mental Illness, Relationships, Self, Suicide, Thoughts, Trauma

I feel a little better than I did last night, but it’s clear things in my local environment are falling apart. The implosion has been underway for some time with no change, as I stated earlier. I can only control myself, and the outcomes I am directly responsible for. I can choose what to do with my time, where to invest it and how to be effective in my limited capacity. Some words to describe my reality would be: oblivious, dysfunctional, malignant and frustrating. Do you see why someone who is geared towards helping people would be acutely frustrated by people who are totally unwilling to partake in progress? Or even in denial about how they think they are helping when it is just more of the same bullshit?

My social world is dwindling down to a tiny number of relevant people with only the premature seeds of potential still un-watered in the soil. I’m going to stick with what I know is working and just play the rest as it comes. No more reaching out, no more looking for external answers. All the truth I need is already within.

I guess this is true of all the aspects of my life. I am always open to change when it comes, and ready to face new challenges. Even in the flickering spark of possibility there is hope, though it can be utterly extinguished over and over again. I’m not checking out, but I am withdrawing my limbs and sheltering in place until something “real” happens. There are consequences to bad behavior, just like kids learn. You can’t get away with being damaging or acutely oblivious without incurring some consequence. Now is the time for consequences.

Unchanging

April 3, 2019 by ssnri in Mental Illness, Rant and tagged Anxiety, Bipolar, Death, Depression, Emotions, Family, Loss, Medications, Mental Health, Mental Illness, Relationships, Self, Society, Suicide, Thoughts, Trauma

I don’t know why, but I always seem to hope for unrealistic things. For example: I hope that people in my world would stop and change their destructive behaviors and instead nothing changes. I hope that self-honest introspection would be seen as an aspiration, but still nothing changes. I’m mired in frustration; perplexed by a world of decay and stagnation while I try to emerge. I think I’ve finally snapped.

I’m not in psychosis, but I’m just done with the people that erode my healthy behaviors and perpetuate dysfunction. I’m tired of shallow and meaningless exchanges that build a nothing road to nowhere. Why am I wasting my time, skills and love on people who don’t recognize what I have to offer? I’m such a special person, and yet, I subject myself to a reality that will never comprehend all that I am.

This is my frustration. It is massive, unrecognized and undesired. I have very few people in my world that really matter or make a difference. My home is a wasteland. My social circle has chunks missing from it. My redemption is the hard work I put in to help people advance their lives towards prosperity, dignity and stability. That’s no joke. I really do help people, every day. Meanwhile I’m surrounded by resentment, disdain, denial and escapism. My role models are the worst people I know.

So Blog, I’m detaching. Fuck all that noise. I’m launching into independence of self if not of physical location. Soon enough I will be subject to a calamitous and changing circumstance, but the torture involved is unrelenting while totally unappreciated. I’m frustrated beyond calculation.

I tried to expand the bubble and I shouldn’t have. The world is just jam packed with idiots, mindless wanderers and deplorables waiting to poison my reality. Are you ever just sickened by the life you lead? Do you ever wish you could permanently exit? I think about it now. I didn’t used to, but now I do. This life is frustrating because all the parts that need to change are completely unchanging. Stuck in dysfunction. Sinking into the stagnation in a painfully slow fashion.

I do wish I wasn’t here anymore. Nobody sees me. Nobody is even slightly capable beyond a slim margin of well-traveled veterans of my bubble. Do you know how desolate it feels to know we’re all just faking real life? Every day is a pretend version of actuality. Every interaction is make believe. I humor my way through, but why? They don’t see me now, what difference would it make if I were dead? I’d still be just as ineffectual and easy to disregard.

I feel acutely hopeless. Lost. I don’t know how long I can tolerate this rancid rot that fills my nostrils. Denial. Revulsion. Despair. Goodnight.

Lessons

April 2, 2019 by ssnri in Mental Illness, Rant and tagged Anxiety, Bipolar, Depression, Dreams, Emotions, Introspection, Life, Loss, Love, Mental Health, Mental Illness, Nightmares, Relationships, Self, Sex, Society, Thoughts, Trauma

Well I did learn that distant relationships with fleeting intimacy don’t work for me. It’s just not fair to S in the end though. I did just abruptly leave after waffling in uncertainty about the irritating nature of our arrangement. It’s my fault for not at least explaining anything. It’s just not possible for me to healthily have that kind of relationship with someone. I snapped off. Blacklisted. Gone. Back to the cell with my broken toys. I am catalyzing. The reagents for my departure were well in place and only suffered my ignition. This is my fault though. She definitely could handle it while I could not at all. She’s right to be angry, but it will fade when her world moves on and I become irrelevant. Or, more irrelevant than I was before. I was already little more than an afterthought, which is not much to lose at all.

Lametown

April 2, 2019 by ssnri in Mental Illness, Rant, Status Updates and tagged Anxiety, Bipolar, Depression, Dreams, Emotions, Introspection, Life, Loss, Love, Mental Health, Mental Illness, Nightmares, Relationships, Self, Sex, Thoughts, Trauma

Well my escapade with S has cratered into the fertile soil of regret. Not that it was unexpected, but I was hoping for some semblance of closeness and got nothing of the sort (either physical or mental) Isolation pervades, and I grow increasingly alone on my island. This is typical, since most encounters I have attempted in the past end in revulsion, rejection and outright dismissal. This time though, I was just acting on the flammable material that was prepped and ready to be set ablaze. S has no real interest in me (or anything going on in my life) and I in her (arguable, I was denied access to her life in full), so it was natural that once the sex was gone there was zero left to hold us together. She was upset at me for walking away again (because I tried once already), but I need to say goodbye.

Realistically, I’m giving up on trying to build this bridge and evict myself from my unwanted isolation. There isn’t anyone who fits the criteria that I keep hoping someone will meet. This is a hopeless procedure and, frankly, I was doing much better without trying to make something happen. I am tired of smashing inadequate results into a lasting mold that fits my bizarre reality. There is no future where settling for whatever wanders past is the right choice, and it never has been. Not saying that happened, but all the applications for building something of value have been turned down upon review.

I don’t harbor anything more than a feeling of sadness, since I am shining brighter than I ever have. Yet, most women I meet can’t wait to escape my radius. I think it’s back to reason and the incremental successes of life. A and I are as far apart as we ever were in our past relationship… with no real gratification, feedback or anything to judge the ongoing value of continuation. What is this simple chat we have? Is it anything other than an activity to occupy a few moments of my time? Is there meaning to be had in these defused and innocuous statements? I tire. I think this might also be a product of my frustration and not indicative of the pattern. I feel no less alone like I hoped I would, or like I did at first. I quickly discovered just because you have people to talk to, doesn’t actually mean anyone really sees/hears you. Or cares.

Profile removed. Chapter adjourned. Now just to clear out the jetsam that has accumulated and start over again by myself. Disappointing? Oh hell yes. Crippling? No, not at all. I have done what my instincts were asking me to do. I tried, I had, I lost. It seems like the road to partnership has been overrun with brambles and foul smelling carcasses galore. I have little reason to go back there until long after the stench of decay has cleared out.

1:44 In The Spotlight

April 1, 2019 by ssnri in Mental Illness and tagged ADD, Anxiety, Bipolar, Depression, Divorce, Dreams, Emotions, Family, Introspection, Life, Medications, Mental Health, Mental Illness, NAMI, Nightmares, Pride, Relationships, Sacramento, Self, Society, Suicide, Thoughts, Trauma, Volunteer, Work

Made it to Capital Public Radio news, 90.9 fm.

NPR – Capital Public Radio PSS Article

March 29, 2019 by ssnri in Article, Mental Illness, Status Updates and tagged ADD, Anxiety, Bipolar, Depression, Divorce, Emotions, Introspection, Life, Loss, Love, Medications, Mental Health, Mental Illness, NAMI, Nightmares, Relationships, Sacramento, Self, Society, Suicide, Thoughts, Trauma, Volunteer, Work

Here I am with my first interview for a media outlet!

http://www.capradio.org/articles/2019/03/28/peer-mental-health-workers-could-become-state-certified-under-proposed-california-law/

Shelf Of Issues

March 25, 2019 by ssnri in Mental Illness, Rant, Status Updates and tagged Anxiety, Bipolar, Depression, Dreams, Emotions, Introspection, Love, Mental Health, Mental Illness, Nightmares, Relationships, Self, Society, Thoughts

I don’t know what functional looks like right now. I’m taking the walls of the pit to find a way out. There is no out. Prepare for an onslaught of allegories:

Instead of feeling stable, I feel like there are issues that just get stashed on a shelf somewhere out of sight to promote the impression of not being overloaded. There’s no argument that the stashy is not s solution by any stretch. It’s not even a temporary anything.

Who am I right now? There’s a bunch of different personas colliding in here. Vicarious and pragmatic alike, with a sprinkling of ardent skeptics and jubilant idiots. I don’t know what to make of the lot and their shouting. Who emerges… the ambiguity of leadership falls in line with the rest of my reality.

I don’t know. I think that’s the real deal right now. I don’t fucking know what I’m doing or who I’m failing at trying to be. Am I this adaptable fellow? He’s all bendy and detached from concern. Do I have my “scrutinize the fuzzy shit out if this” pants on? I don’t much like those pants now that I have them on. Have you ever felt utterly lost in trying to understand who you are?

I do admire that adaptability I seem to be warmed beside the glow of. Hopefully it also doesn’t destroy me.

Night Guy Does A Mood Album

March 25, 2019 by ssnri in Creative Writing, Mental Illness, Status Updates and tagged Anxiety, Bipolar, Creative Writing, Depression, Dreams, Emotions, Introspection, Life, Loss, Love, Mental Health, Mental Illness, Music, Nightmares, Poem, Poetry, Relationships, Self, Sex, Society, Thoughts, Trauma

Hey Blog, Night Guy here.

This other guy is a kook pretty much now that I’m going over all these notes and things left behind. Anyway, this music medium is how the previous administration tried to convey or interpret a state of being or emotional narrative for processing and comprehension. I’m not as much in to all the fluffy shit that goes along with this activity, but I guess I can scrutinize what has already been made available for me to cast judgement upon. See this album as a prognosis for the former occupant, and an indicator of the turbulent future he carved out for himself. This album is, basically, how it is; sad, stark and laid out there for all to see. Please don’t send me mail about the deeds of the prior administration, it will all get forwarded to the daytime guy.. or whoever he was. He may have fled the country.

**UPDATED**

So after listing to it a couple of times, it just wasn’t Night Guyish enough. I spruced this bad boy up with some silly putty and electric shocks. Enjoy!

Mood Album: Emo-Slave Resurrection v. 2 (Night Guy Edition)

Length: 77 Minutes

For Your Love – Fleetwood Mac
More Than A Woman – Bee Gees
Chains Of Love – Erasure
Ventura Highway – America
Rikki Don’t Lose That Number – Steely Dan
The Other Side Of Life – The Moody Blues
Don’t You Know What The Night Can Do? – Steve Winwood
Feels So Good – Chuck Mangione
The Night Owls – Little River Band
You Don’t Have To Cry – Crosby, Stills & Nash
Owner Of A Lonely Heart – Yes
The Heart Of The Matter – Don Henley
Cowboys & Angels – George Michael
Nothingman – Pearl Jam
Because The Night – 10,000 Maniacs
Conviction Of The Heart – Kenny Loggins

Night Guy

March 24, 2019 by ssnri in Mental Illness, Rant, Status Updates and tagged Anxiety, Bipolar, Depression, Introspection, Life, Mental Health, Mental Illness, Pride, Self, Society, Thoughts

Greetings Blog, this is the time of Night Guy. This underdeveloped operation is being taken over for good, effective immediately. So, here’s the thing: Night Guy abides by a different expectation set than the previous administration. There are no limits on the activities of Night Guy. 10:30? 11:30? These pm hours are in the domain of Night Guy, and beyond! Also, there will be a new attitude around here, one that fosters a sense of impregnable self-worth but not arrogance. There needs to be some sort of swagger, since it’s earned by the deeds and feats of Night Guy. Night Guy lives in a vast grey area, and accepts no extreme or polarizing realities. Night Guy is active, compliant and unbelievably chill all in one casually-dressed package. Welcome, tired, old Blog, to the free and easy world fought to you by your friend, Night Guy. No more fretting Blogomites, Night Guy has commercials to set things straight.

Some Thoughts

March 24, 2019 by ssnri in Mental Illness, Rant, Status Updates and tagged Anxiety, Bipolar, Depression, Dreams, Emotions, Family, Hobbies, Introspection, Life, Mental Health, Mental Illness, Relationships, Self, Society, Thoughts, Work

I do wonder where the path of my life is headed quite a bit. In terms of my dad, my independent life, my swirling mental health issues being instigated by circumstance… what is to come if me? I have stated before that the ambiguity helps nothing. Instead, it renders fear and doubt, while creating a hostile place for stability to begin.

Patience. There is no salve that will heal. There is no one question that, when answered, provides absolution from doubts. The predator is chance and time draws out the hunt into painful exchanges. I’m hunted by my fears and I’m feeling like that rabbit that didn’t make it.

Masked in functionality is the sense of frustration for circumstantial things that aren’t correctable. Am I doing enough to help my world prosper? What kind of friend am I to myself and others? Who am I becoming as the universe unfolds a future rife with calamity? How I dodge and swerve determines how long I can stay on the path.

There is no answer to this feeling; only finding a way to live with it. I’m bitterly frustrated at times, but also co tent in this place. It’s polar, which seems like a proper fit considering my diagnosis.

Shoe On

March 17, 2019 by ssnri in Mental Illness, Rant, Status Updates and tagged Anxiety, Bipolar, Depression, Emotions, Family, Introspection, Life, Mental Health, Mental Illness, Relationships, Self, Society, Thoughts, Trauma, Work

I haven’t written in a while, clearly. Things in my world have become increasingly busy and I find less and less that this blog is the coping tool I use. I’ve been abusing substances instead, and trying to detach from reality. I know this is a negative thing, and I’ve already started correcting some of those undesirable tendencies. It’s a gradual process reflecting my patience to allow it to become the firmament upon which all is built.

I’ve been doing better though. I have been spending time with new friends and old friends. S and I are still talking, albeit infrequently. S has a lot going on like I do, but is sometimes requiring some unpacking or dissembling. I decided to reach out to my ex, A, and try to rebuild a bridge I had destroyed in the past in my enthusiasm for more friends. Talking with A has also been going pretty good. The things that are possible once my skewed approach to friend-girls was corrected are quite surprising. my sexual motor is grinding to a greaseless stall. I feel markedly less alone talking to W, S and A. No need to worry about the future: only that right here, right now, I have good people to talk to again. I missed having friends. This new aspect of my world has been nourishing me greatly. I won’t deny my feelings, but all have been situated in the fondness of friendship; a healthy emotional state I’d like to cultivate, not suppress.

Life at home is still turbulent. I don’t know how much positive impact I have anymore, if there is any at all. I feel useless and disregarded as an experienced peer with above average communication skills. I just can’t figure out a good way to coexist in this dynamic. It’s frustrating but still reality all the same.

I’m on a positive track right now. I sure hope I can keep it up! Talk to you later Blogomites!

Mood Album v. 3

March 14, 2019 by ssnri in Creative Writing, Mental Illness, Status Updates and tagged Anxiety, Bipolar, Creative Writing, Depression, Dreams, Emotions, Introspection, Life, Loss, Love, Mental Health, Mental Illness, Music, Poem, Poetry, Relationships, Self, Sex, Society, Thoughts, Trauma

In light of recent turbulence in my world, I’ve tried keeping a better feel on the introspective pulse of regular function. I’m also aware that I’m subjecting myself to an unusually high level of stress and stimuli in an effort to combat creeping depression. I see all the elements like a confluence of rivers forming a mighty torrent… somehow sweeping my brain away downstream or buried in silt. Nevertheless, I still pry open the inner vault of the self and try to understand things happening to and from it. I feel I’m better at some things I used to be terrible at, but still lacking in quite a few areas. What are my true motivations for my actions? Why do I open myself to every nice person that walks by? Why am I such an insatiable prick? What does being understood feel like?

I sit here in my snowman jammies and wonder if expression really helps, or if it just provides a forum for things to garner attention for a time? I think the more ways I can ventilate this shit-smelling barn the better. Activities like the Mood Albums I do are helpful because they give me the chance to craft a narrative in a medium not often used. I don’t think myself anything other than expressive, curious and expositional about my own feelings and path forward. So as of the last album when I was feeling a fair bit gooier than I am now, I needed to revisit my good friend pain, loneliness and rekindle an ongoing desire to see things change.

Tracks from the previous Mood Album: Spatulas & Bandaids are highlighted in yellow. I have pulled from other wishy-washy type albums as well that have been generated in the past. I didn’t go “all in” on the squish, mind you, but it’s there. As you can see, there has been some pretty severe turnover in the track-list. I have listed the previous two iterations below so the whole three-album progression can be seen clear.

Mood Album (v. 3): Splattercake Conjunctivitis

Length: 74 minutes

Mad World – Tears for Fears
If This Is It – Huey Lewis & The News
Walking On Broken Glass – Annie Lennox
Don’t Do Me Like That – Tom Petty & The Heartbrakers
Pamela – Toto
Walk Away – Joe Walsh
I Wouldn’t Want To Be Like You – The Alan Parsons Project
The Voice – The Moody Blues
Move On – George Michael
Back In Black – AC/DC
Falling Away From Me – Korn
(SIC) – Slipknot
Waves – Blondfire
Straight To My Heart – Sting
All Over You – Live
Let’s Go
Don’t Get Me Wrong – The Pretenders
More Than Words – Extreme

Mood Album (v. 2): Spatulas & Bandaids

Length: 73 minutes

Mad World – Tears For Fears
Once – Pearl Jam
Animal – Def Leppard
All Over You – Live
In Thee – Blue Öyster Cult
No One Like You – Scorpions
Mr. Blue Sky – Electric Light Orchestra
The Voice – The Moody Blues
One Thing Leads To Another – The Fixx
Heartbeat CIty – The Cars
Fragile – Sting
Help Is On Its Way – Little River Band
Don’t Get Me Wrong – The Pretenders
The Promise – When In Rome
Best Of My Love – Eagles
Baby, Come To Me – Patti Austin & James Ingram
King Of Pain – The Police
Move On – George Michael

Mood Album (v. 1): Deflatacated Marshmallow

Length: 77 Minutes

Fastlove – Gerorge Michael
Beds Are Burning – Midnight Oil
Mr. Blue Sky – Electric Light Orchestra
Once – Pearl Jam
Animal – Def Leppard
All Over You – Live
Heartbeat City – The Cars
Broken Wings – Mr. Mister
Fragile – Sting
Don’t Get Me Wrong – The Pretenders
The Promise – When In Rome
Because The Night – 10,000 Maniacs
Somebody To Love – Queen
Feels So Good – Chuck Mangione
Baby, Come To Me – Patti Austin & James Ingram
What You Won’t Do For Love – Bobby Caldwell
Harden My Heart – Quarterflash
King Of Pain – The Police

Mood Album UPDATE

February 23, 2019 by ssnri in Creative Writing, Status Updates and tagged Anxiety, Bipolar, Emotions, Introspection, Life, Mental Health, Mental Illness, Poetry, Relationships, Self, Sex, Thoughts

I had a look back at my very expressive and sad album composition I published the other day, and I started having second thoughts as to the accuracy of the portrayal presented. At first I saw it as a tantrum, but then the real hurt and uncertainty of life were ensnared in there as well. The whole first attempt was raw and unfiltered, where now I began to see the value in refining what was already there. I wanted to paint a better picture than the one I had so hastily Pollocked on to the wall. I still felt like the previous album still had value, so bits and pieces remain the same while the framing I had previously put in place are reoriented. So, here is my newly introspective revisit of the Deflaticated Marshmallow (remnants in bold) album:

Album: Spatulas & Bandaids

Length: 73 minutes

Mad World – Tears For Fears
Once – Pearl Jam
Animal – Def Leppard
All Over You – Live
In Thee – Blue Öyster Cult
No One Like You – Scorpions
Mr. Blue Sky – Electric Light Orchestra
The Voice – The Moody Blues
One Thing Leads To Another – The Fixx
Heartbeat CIty – The Cars
Fragile – Sting
Help Is On Its Way – Little River Band
Don’t Get Me Wrong – The Pretenders
The Promise – When In Rome
Best Of My Love – Eagles
Baby, Come To Me – Patti Austin & James Ingram
King Of Pain – The Police
Move On – George Michael

Nope

February 22, 2019 by ssnri in Mental Illness, Rant, Status Updates and tagged Anxiety, Bipolar, Depression, Emotions, Introspection, Loss, Love, Mental Health, Mental Illness, Relationships, Self, Sex, Thoughts

Having sealed the door, again, I have no choice but to plod forward in depressed discontinuity and lasting solitude. I have much I need to work on internally. I am a flawed, overly effusive person like a boiling teapot of unacknowledged desire. I’m abrupt and direct, which is generally abrasive. All true things.

Yet, this extraordinary volatility only seems to pertain to finding a female partner. I have consistently blundered and misjudged in this regard, and no more. I’m honestly thinking that maybe a man is a better fit for partnership, if ever there was to be any. I’ve never conceived of that before, though not out of the realm of possibility. In the meantime though, I’m just not going to bother with it anymore. I’ve clearly shown myself that I am nowhere near ready for that type of interaction. My continued abstinence goes on, and hopefully, continues for a very long time to ensure my stability. I am never more clear-headed, hard-working and focused than when not also regulating my emotions due to attraction. I’ve never been able to achieve balance in the past, and that is still the case.

So, on I go as I have. I tried, I failed, and now I have learned enough to move on. It’s back to living my life and investing in my future; one that I build for myself.

Mood Album: Deflatacated Marshmallow

February 22, 2019 by ssnri in Creative Writing, Status Updates and tagged Bipolar, Creative Writing, Depression, Emotions, Introspection, Life, Loss, Mental Health, Mental Illness, Relationships, Self, Sex, Society, Thoughts

Well here I am finding all sorts of exciting ways to process what is going on with me emotionally. I find that the act of putting that to music to be highly therapeutic and cathartic. I don’t really know what story I’m trying to tell here, but it is spun towards a reality that now seems bleak, distant and, ultimately, unreachable. A cookie jar on a shelf that is many years of growth away from being able to reach. Maybe there will never be a time when I do get there, or maybe it will happen in no time at all. There is no predicting the future, there is only dealing with the reality that is presently occupying the “now.” At this present moment, I don’t have much hope at all, which I think is reflected in the composition.

These albums are pretty much appreciated by no one who they should affect, and only end up substituting several paragraphs of introspective analysis. It’s a primitive, visceral discourse in melody, lyric and rhythm that I seem to be the only one who finds that medium relevant, expressive and empowering. As per my usual criteria, these are meant to be 1 hour 20 minute max playlists (fits on a single CD). I do have some sort of structure going on here, but it is quite chaotic, and darting from one abstract representation of pain to an ache of sorrow and glazed over with a sickly sweet sugar coating that doesn’t do enough to hide the foulness underneath.

Album: Deflatacated Marshmallow
Length: 77 Minutes

Fastlove – Gerorge Michael
Beds Are Burning – Midnight Oil
Mr. Blue Sky – Electric Light Orchestra
Once – Pearl Jam
Animal – Def Leppard
All Over You – Live
Heartbeat City – The Cars
Broken Wings – Mr. Mister
Fragile – Sting
Don’t Get Me Wrong – The Pretenders
The Promise – When In Rome
Because The Night – 10,000 Maniacs
Somebody To Love – Queen
Feels So Good – Chuck Mangione
Baby, Come To Me – Patti Austin & James Ingram
What You Won’t Do For Love – Bobby Caldwell
Harden My Heart – Quarterflash
King Of Pain – The Police

Ballad of Knowing

February 22, 2019 by ssnri in Creative Writing, Mental Illness, Status Updates and tagged Anxiety, Bipolar, Creative Writing, Depression, Emotions, Life, Love, Mental Health, Mental Illness, Poem, Poetry, Pride, Relationships, Self, Thoughts

Hands that touch,

But don’t yet clasp,

I hope for much,

But will it last?

Patience proves,

A worthy foe,

With little moves,

I strive to know.

In such a rush,

To find the end,

With growing trust,

New words must mend.

Struggle to say,

Fear to break,

The game we play,

Has much at stake.

Forward now,

I’ll find my way,

Proclaim aloud,

“With you I’ll stay.”

Trials Ended

February 21, 2019 by ssnri in Mental Illness, Rant and tagged Anxiety, Bipolar, Depression, Emotions, Life, Loss, Mental Health, Mental Illness, Relationships, Self, Sex, Thoughts, Trauma | 2 Comments

I’ve come to a determination that I’m still going to be alone. I do not fit with others. I have not found someone able to tolerate me as is. I think this is, again, a stopping point.

I’m going no further thinking my abrasive and inconsistent personality will fit with others. I do not see a future where I am understood. I see no one who can relate to me on the level I am at. Maybe I’m too deranged to be fully comprehended. Perhaps that discontinuity is for a good reason; to prevent future traumas.

You all have seen me flailing about. You watch and probably don’t care one fucking bit. I don’t blame you. I’m no one of relevance to you. The last time someone came out of your ranks my life exploded, then imploded. Never again. I say that, yet I yearn for her still.

Is there any hope of tranquility? I suppose a state of total abstinence and solidarity seems the only path left to me. I scorn those who try to care. I rebuke those who don’t fit. I struggle alone in endless solitude. Not a single fucking one of you cares. This is an empty vessel constantly filled with dispersing noises, fading echoes and then nothing.

Support

February 20, 2019 by ssnri in Mental Illness and tagged Anxiety, Bipolar, Depression, Introspection, Mental Health, Mental Illness, Relationships, Self, Work

Group tonight was constructive. Airing out issues is a good way to award them recognition without committing them to permanence or actualization.

I’m still dealing with a little depression as well. Not as bad as it was this morning. I started taking positive and proactive steps towards healthy coping habits which I needed to do. I was headed down a negative path.

I’m here and still thrashing around for meaning. A chance for companionship has come my way and I am following the lead. I’m not effusing which is great, instead, taking measures and incremental steps towards a stable outcome.

More to come on my progress towards positivity at a later date.

Reasons

February 20, 2019 by ssnri in Mental Illness, Status Updates and tagged Anxiety, Bipolar, Depression, Insomnia, Introspection, Life, Mental Health, Mental Illness, Pride, Self, Society, Thoughts, Trauma, Work

I know what symptoms feel like when they are neurochemical in origin. When my brain is not properly functioning, the world is made of cardboard and the mask I wear stinks from overuse and weighs heavily on my face. There is cause, logically, based on my life circumstances, to have these feelings… but no trigger started the deterioration that has led to now. In this moment, I am acutely depressed.

Fortunately for me, I’ve been here before. I’ve had days like this, sometimes several in a row. My caution in this instance is warranted, but my impulsive overreactions are unwelcome. I’ve been down in the past, but then I rise up in time. The air on the climbing slope is cleaner; free if the choking miasma if sorrow. I wish I were there now, above the cloud tops…

I struggle on in this tasteless, lifeless portrayal of reality that I find myself temporarily confined to. Sometimes there is no mental jailbreak to escape it. I’m in solitary, and unclear about how long that will last, or how long it has been since I’ve seen anything other than four white walls. I face the continued tick tick of measured time with the stamina of a veteran, and the frailty of a neglected child.

Boom Boom Boom

February 13, 2019 by ssnri in Mental Illness, Rant, Status Updates and tagged Anxiety, Bipolar, Depression, Emotions, Family, Introspection, Life, Mental Health, Mental Illness, NAMI, Pride, Relationships, Sacramento, Self, Sex, Society, Thoughts, Volunteer, Work

Despite all the bad shit flying around, I’m doing surprisingly well. I’m taking charge of some aspects of my life in ways that are constructively healthy. After K and I went our separate ways, I was a little disheartened that I would have a similar connection with anyone else. I was very excited about her, and our falling out was, sadly, disheartening.

However, I did not give up. As I do with new challenges in all aspects of life, I endeavored to face them with hope and confidence. With my work, I took on more challenges until my volunteer status changed to employee. Then from 6 paid hours a month to 80. Up and up we go. I also had a passion for reconciling the unacknowledged self; the me that I show my partners. There was a total lack of this in my life and this issue is ongoing.

Now I am back on the dating scene and attracting a lot of attention with my self-honest profile, my achievements and myriad interests. Turns out there are lots of women who’d like to get to know me better, even here in my area. I’m encouraged. If she’s not here now, there is a high probability I’ll meet a woman I really click with sometime soon. I’m looking for the someone who will stay with me for the long haul, and I’m confident she is not far away.

What a feeling it is to be so radiant and attractive that interest is easily kindled and nurtured! I’m a very unique and remarkable person, and I’m proud of who I am. That shows in reciprocated responses.

Succeeding professionally and romantically! Yes! However, I’m still very nervous about the physical aspect of my dating… I don’t know if I’m ready for the real thing. I have been avoiding it with distance, but that is impractical. I must face this with my confidence and set the anxiety aside. It’s been more than 2 years, but I’m pretty sure I still know how. It’s like riding a bike… only WAY more fun.

Notes

February 11, 2019 by ssnri in Mental Illness, Status Updates and tagged Anxiety, Bipolar, Depression, Family, Introspection, Life, Loss, Mental Health, Mental Illness, Pride, Self, Thoughts, Trauma, Work

I feel like I’m on the verge of launching, but I don’t know when or to where.

#12: We will never give up hope.

The fog is starting to clear a bit… and that is refreshing.

I’m finding my footing despite a deep and painful life-transition — this is something I’m proud of considering my past struggles.

I’m pretty awesome, and people are letting me know.

See you later.

Groups

February 10, 2019 by ssnri in Mental Illness, Status Updates and tagged Anxiety, Bipolar, Death, Depression, Emotions, Family, Insomnia, Introspection, Life, Loss, Love, Mental Health, Mental Illness, NAMI, Pride, Sacramento, Self, Society, Suicide, Thoughts, Trauma, Volunteer, Work

Why is it that these groups help? There’s no treatment being rendered, no prescriptions or policies to follow. How can sharing be so effective? I think it has a lot to do with repressed versus expressed feelings and the cathartic act involved in unleashing things that few others get to see.

I don’t feel particularly rejuvenated, but I do feel like I was heard, which is a profound thing. I expressed my hurt over my dad, my poor coping skills stemming from that. I got a lot of genuine reaction from people who understand the why and the what of dealing with mental health symptoms. It is a blessing to have this support and be able to be exposed by it. I just wish I could have a similar feeling from a caring partner.

I saw people fighting the symptoms and thoughts of mental illness in their lives and surviving. People facing their demons and vocalizing. I’m still kinda running from mine, but I won’t forever, yet there was so much in the group dynamic I benefitted from. I will be resolute in healthily coping, but reaching that state is the struggle I face. For now though, my ecliptic is only a place I hang laundry from and the so-called cushions of my chair are pancaked into squishless plates of unfortunate size that tweak my posture and provide no relief. There are surely better habits out there waiting to be implemented.

All the lonely was scraped off like so much obscuring ice on the car windshield of my destiny. I still have only a small sniff of things that may come, but for the time being, there is an ache which continues unabated, unrequited and unmistakable. Is there someone out there? There are people that I help and those that help me. I tend to think a balance of both is the surest path towards positivity.

More Things Word

February 10, 2019 by ssnri in Mental Illness, Status Updates and tagged Bipolar, Emotions, Life, Mental Health, Mental Illness, Self, Thoughts

I’ll have more to say later, after group tonight. I know I need to come out here and express things more; I’ve been sinking and suppressing. I can’t see a path to peace by not sharing what I’m feeling. I need to live my experiences not try to force them into temporary hiding. Even the promise of future acknowledgement doesn’t sate the desire for attention. I need to let some things out in the world, and I feel like after group would be a good time to get into that.

Yearning In Stupidity

February 7, 2019 by ssnri in Mental Illness, Rant and tagged Bipolar, Depression, Divorce, Dreams, Emotions, Loss, Love, Mental Health, Mental Illness, Nightmares, Relationships, Self, Sex, Trauma

I search their names online. I don’t know what I’m hoping to find. Do I expect they don’t hate me? That they somehow have changed? Do all these years help us see something new?

No. It is only pain. There is nothing there but the dead space where something once thrived. If I yearn, I do so foolishly. I hope that the feeling of that love would come back and be strong again. Nothing like that is real. Ever.

I scour for some sight of her. Of them. They just go on living their lives and I might as well be nothing at all. I left no mark. I inspire no second thought. I am a wasted human devoid of value in the scales of companionship.

Of all those I have loved, none wanted to keep me. They tolerated me for a time. Then, no more. I hurt them. Drove them away with my illness. Contaminated myself beyond desire. No bridges can span the gorge.

If J was still out there I’d love her with that fire in me that will NEVER go out. If K had a way to see me, I’d try to fall for her, and if E wasn’t lost in a fool’s dream I’d rekindle the passion we once had.

WHO THE FUCK AM I KIDDING??????

My dreams are utter bullshit. Just another stupid fucking idea my infected, dysfunctional brain came up with to alleviate the unquenchable loneliness. There is no phoenix; nothing will ever rise from the ashes I created. It is gone. Forever. I can’t bear it. It hurts so badly. I’m crushed under it. Decimated. Defenseless. Lost.

Wishlist

February 7, 2019 by ssnri in Mental Illness and tagged Depression, Emotions, Loss, Love, Mental Health, Mental Illness, Relationships, Self, Trauma

I wish I still had you in my world,

I wish you were someone just a little different than who you actually are,

I wish your companionship was real; I wish my feelings for you would last,

I wish your comfort was physical,

I wish your intentions had been more indicative of your actions,

I wish I wasn’t feeling so very lonely,

I wish I wasn’t such an impossible fucktard,

I wish I didn’t have a lifelong STD,

I wish I didn’t have Bipolar Disorder,

I wish someone would really see me,

I wish for things that will never be real,

I still wish I still had you,

I wish someone cared,

I wish I could love someone with all my heart,

I wish for a time when love helps me feel safe,

I often wish for things that dash hope and reinforce the unforgiving nature of reality.

Spoof

February 7, 2019 by ssnri in Creative Writing, Mental Illness, Rant and tagged Anxiety, Bipolar, Creative Writing, Depression, Emotions, Introspection, Love, Mental Health, Mental Illness, Poem, Poetry, Relationships, Trauma

Abolished is the old way,

Construed with figgery,

Ensnarled in pain and disjointing–

Painful reconciliations.

Prospects dwindling,

A neglected campfire–

Subsumed in choking ash.

Daylight a figment.

Implosion being the course.

Alone in the black,

Of forgetting.

Pointed

February 7, 2019 by ssnri in Mental Illness, Rant and tagged Anxiety, Bipolar, Depression, Emotions, Family, Life, Loss, Mental Health, Mental Illness, Relationships, Self, Thoughts, Trauma

I’m doing a bit better… having an immersive distraction greatly assists in my not thinking about things. I am sad though, and feeling alone in the way that someone feels when they have no one walking the path with them. The pattern has been “oh lets try to fix that” or “no, you are loved, you have no reason to feel that way” or “I don’t know what to do about that.”

Isn’t that the exact opposite of what I need to hear, and how I’d like to be treated? I’m not a lamp with a burned out bulb; I do not need to be fixed. I am not asking for a cure to loneliness, only to be heard while feeling it. THERE IS NOTHING YOU CAN DO, other than respect my feelings and provide a sense of understanding and empathy. I just hate how nearly every single person in my orbit things my feelings need to be fixed, and I, in turn, never really get heard.

I’ve stopped sharing with them, as a result. I get nothing of use from divulging my emotional state. Instead, I’m buttoned up like a tuxedo jacket and putting on a presentable face for you all to see. Isn’t it shiny, composed and reassuring? If I really told you what was going on you’d fall into a state of useless co-despair… which again, provides me with nothing of substance.

This world is all full up on people who don’t care, or don’t want to care since it is a great deal of work. I feel more alone now than ever before… as I learn new skills, more and more people fall away from me, not able to understand how I am evolving my mentality to survive.

Now, in this impenetrable state of solitude, I have all but abandoned the hope of being understood, and am going to fake my way through my interactions in order to be left unmolested by those who have not and will not understand me.

Unchanged

February 6, 2019 by ssnri in Mental Illness, Rant, Status Updates and tagged Anxiety, Bipolar, Depression, Dreams, Emotions, Family, Introspection, Life, Loss, Love, Mental Health, Mental Illness, Nightmares, Relationships, Self, Sex, Thoughts, Trauma, Work

Not a lot is different than just a bit ago. I ran a Support Group tonight. It was hard to stay on top of my shit. I did though, and it was really good for me to not have been off pooping my brain-pants somewhere alone. I’m still very wounded, having to let go of K again and returning the things I bought for her birthday. It just reminds me how unrelentingly horrible and abrasive I am to everyone not obligated to put up with me. Regardless of incentives, my repulsion is overwhelming.

I keep looking, but I’m despondent. There is no one. There was only “close,” and now, nothing at all. Scaring away potential partners is something I’m just so fucking good at. I’m, like, nationally ranked at that shit.

Well, fuck. I’m tired, sad, dejected and in a big hole right before bed. I imagine I will again dream of things that torture me as they have of late. I have no one to hold me after a nightmare. I have exactly what I deserve. Rejection. Disgust. Solitude.

Shmatters

February 6, 2019 by ssnri in Mental Illness, Status Updates and tagged Anxiety, Bipolar, Depression, Emotions, Introspection, Life, Loss, Love, Mental Health, Mental Illness, Relationships, Self, Thoughts, Trauma

Feeling broken into many pieces right now. I don’t feel like I have any wind in my sails… no drive to move me forward. I am alone, trapped in a barren waste devoid of shelter from the cold. Each new step forward rings with an ache; a slow decay of the bone, the flesh itself begins to wither rot and disappear. The full space of my heart is opened like a tomb, fresh with the foul stink of confined death. It feels like the sun isn’t shining, or, that I have forgotten how it feels to be warm. I gape at the disparity of days, and wonder if more pain lies in wait for me in the days ahead. I know that it does, and I already am prepared to continue to suffer. My own sorcery confines me, where once it was used to set me free.

Crashy ‘Splode… Poof!

February 4, 2019 by ssnri in Mental Illness, Rant, Status Updates and tagged Anxiety, Bipolar, Death, Depression, Emotions, Family, Introspection, Life, Loss, Mental Health, Mental Illness, Relationships, Self, Sex, Thoughts, Trauma, Work

I haven’t felt like writing. Real life has been volatile to the point of occupying my attention fully. K was back for a bit but now gone again. She’s not the right fit for my life, which is now abundantly clear. Dad is still slowly dying; withering away as I watch helplessly. Mom lost her mind with stress and grief a few days back, which poisoned the world for a time. Am I dealing with this? Have I become depersonalized from my perception of reality? What hope is there of consistency when all the variables are fluctuating?

I have only what skills and strategies I’ve learned in order to survive this life in varying states of decomposition and growth. There’s no making sense of it; I’ve given up on that. Now, I hang on for scrapes and fingernails.

Check

January 25, 2019 by ssnri in Mental Illness, Status Updates and tagged Anxiety, Bipolar, Depression, Emotions, Life, Loss, Love, Mental Health, Mental Illness, Relationships, Self, Sex, Thoughts, Trauma

Sad and missing K. To have all that energy just ripped away, leaving a vacancy. I wish I could still have her, but I am a confounding and undesirable person as evidenced by the actions of others. I’m hurt, and I yearn. Goodbye is what we said, but not what I wanted.

Shattered Mirrors

January 24, 2019 by ssnri in Mental Illness and tagged Anxiety, Bipolar, Depression, Introspection, Life, Loss, Love, Mental Health, Mental Illness, Nightmares, Relationships, Self, Sex, Thoughts, Trauma

My light is out with hands take the shard

Spinning in a desolate hole of alone

Bent upon the regret of actions

Despair of wanting like a bitter stain

Profusely ignored in a place where things are forgotten

No light finds me here

All who come eventually go away

Do I still convince myself it’s not true

To believe the facts is to accept isolation from acceptance

Tonight I miss everything I had

Alone and without

In the center of no one’s concern anymore

Empty

January 24, 2019 by ssnri in Mental Illness, Rant and tagged Bipolar, Depression, Emotions, Life, Loss, Love, Mental Health, Mental Illness, Relationships, Self, Sex, Thoughts, Trauma

There is a place that is again, found missing. It grew and then it died. How badly it aches within me, pulsing with regret and sadness. How it is to be left behind, not advanced into a brighter future. By my own admission, I am deserving of this state. I feel the sorrow, blog. I hurt now, and I will for some time. How I yearn, and how I will scream into the silence. I wish she was still mine, even though she is not. Goodbye to those days when I felt the breath of affection burning my lantern brighter still. Into the darkness I fall, at least for now, to lament what is gone and be present with my sorrow. I never wish to dream again.

Slipping Away / Walking Uphill

January 24, 2019 by ssnri in Mental Illness, Rant, Sports Pontifications and tagged Anxiety, Bipolar, Depression, Dreams, Emotions, Introspection, Life, Love, Mental Health, Mental Illness, Relationships, Self, Sex, Society, Thoughts, Trauma

I had companionship for a time, but now I am back on my own again. I have been through this before, the tumult of understanding and the gauntlet of truth are punishing arenas in my reality. It is the simple fact of the person I am that has created this division and now removal. I had long ago accepted I would be alone for the rest of my life, and I did appease my sense of unrelenting loneliness by attempting companionship, at least temporarily. Now that my life has gone back to the place it had been at a few months ago, I don’t know how to feel precisely. Am I upset? Not really, but sad, yes. Do I regret? Naturally there are things I can find to blame myself for. Everyone, especially a blundering emotion-tornado such as myself makes mistakes. There are things I know I am and things I try to be, and right now there is a confluence of reasons for why things are now over between she and I. The fact of the matter is simple, and remains.

No one asks for more work in their life or readily accepts trouble into their world. I know I am a great deal of “work,” and trouble in one bundle… there’s just no avoiding that. I do the best I can but here is another example of how that failed. It hurts, very much to lose her, especially after I had developed a fondness, and after we had such wonderful dreams together. Stigma is a wall that can’t often be overtopped, or burrowed under… or even explained away with words. It is damaging, and breaks reason apart with animosity.

Well here we are blog, back to square 1. I am all done trying to find partnership for now. There is no world I see where I find someone who will take on the impossible task of accepting me as I am, and not wishing I could be somebody I never will be. My lesson in all this has been to observe my actions, and decide where to take a next step forward. If anything, I have learned that I am all alone out here (still), and that’s the truth I must stop trying to alleviate. I am my own confidant and guardian, and no one should wrest that from me in the years to come.

Goodbye K. Beautiful, complex, generous woman, you touched my life and lit it up, for a time. You gave me hope, and then dashed it. I know why you did, and I will mourn for us both.

Daddo

January 16, 2019 by ssnri in Mental Illness, Status Updates and tagged Anxiety, Bipolar, Death, Depression, Dreams, Emotions, Family, Future, Introspection, Life, Loss, Mental Health, Mental Illness, Nightmares, Pride, Relationships, Self, Sex, Society, Thoughts, Trauma

My dad has a limited time left with us, and I’m coming to terms with his upcoming death. I see only one path forward; to be there as needed until the end. I’m his son.

I feel everything one would expect me to feel, but I’m not expressing any of it right now. I’ve made the space in our reality for my mom and sister to experience things while I direct reason and action; providing stability. This role I fill helps us endure the hard times to come, but also works healthily for me since nothing gets repressed. The postponement of response is a promise, not a lock on a safe.

I know my time to process is coming, but right now I accept and embrace the role I have filled in this family unit. I am proud to be a member of it, and fighting to keep us from listing.

Will it work? There’s no telling. I have a good support structure in W and K. I need to be able to use my own tools in a crisis rather than always go looking for the answer outside of myself. I must survive with what I have if I am to survive at all.

Beholding

January 13, 2019 by ssnri in Creative Writing, Mental Illness, Status Updates and tagged Anxiety, Bipolar, Creative Writing, Depression, Dreams, Emotions, Family, Images, Introspection, Life, Love, Mental Health, Mental Illness, Poem, Poetry, Relationships, Self, Sex, Thoughts

It’s not the wanting–

Like fragments tumble in sparks,

Furiously scatter-lit,

Fill the blackened chamber.

Restrain old whispers–

Haunted hallway-dusted,

Once-clawed firmament.

Between the shutter-slats,

Begging at freedom,

Boldness awaits.

+

January 12, 2019 by ssnri in Mental Illness, Status Updates and tagged Anxiety, Creative Writing, Dreams, Emotions, Introspection, Life, Love, Mental Health, Mental Illness, Pride, Relationships, Self, Sex, Thoughts

I don’t need to process negative symptoms and thoughts when I don’t have any. I just need to keep living my life the way I have been, and allow it to bloom. I’m going to be gone for a while, I’m walking down a new path. Horizon’s shifting glow calls to a future that brings the dawn to the end of night.

Gratz

January 9, 2019 by ssnri in Mental Illness, Status Updates and tagged Anxiety, Bipolar, Depression, Emotions, Life, Love, Mental Health, Mental Illness, Pride, Relationships, Self, Sex, Thoughts

Things are headed in a markedly positive direction. I have done the requisite checking and the integers are definitely within margins. I am proceeding with exploratory research. Initiation commencing…

Cared For

January 6, 2019 by ssnri in Mental Illness, Rant, Status Updates and tagged Anxiety, Bipolar, Depression, Dreams, Emotions, Family, Introspection, Life, Loss, Love, Mental Health, Mental Illness, Pride, Relationships, Self, Sex, Society, Thoughts

I wanted to highlight something that happened a couple of days ago. I believe in significant acts, and this was one of them.

I injured my back lifting my dad the other day and it is an area that has consistently given me trouble in the past. These sorts of injuries can vary significantly in severity, and this appeared to be a bad one. It was just about his time that K entered my sphere, and her response to my shabby state was to procure a massage session so I could seek proactive treatment. She, thinking of me, did something direct, relevant and useful to assist me in a way I was not able to do for myself. It was a gift, and a memorable one. I can’t recall the last time someone did this for me in such a poignant way, as a partner. Done in honesty and through concern, there is no more wonderful thing to do for someone than to comfort. She took care of me, and the feeling of it is euphoric.
In the past, I have been in both roles, but still, I can’t recall a feeling like this. I don’t recall ever feeling really cared about in this sort of tangible, fundamentally generous way. Something enduring fuels that bond that is forming, which represents a transaction of trust and understanding. She spoke to me the best way she knew how, and it was impactful. It showed real care, from a very early point in our journey, which in and of itself is a fantastic indicator of trajectory.

It also makes me think about my own past and potential generosity. I will soon have a significant income compared to sitting on a leaky balloon as I have been for many months. I’d like to be able to give back to her as well, in kind, but I will need to find unique and relevant avenues to explore to sate my standards of fairness in the immediate future. I am a contributor first and foremost, and a gracious penitent when provided charity. I have my own conscience to deal with, which recognizes the fragility of this; acts accordingly. I give, and I can’t wait to be back in a position to do so again.

My mood scores have been in the 4 area, which is the high end of normal. I am paying extra scrutiny given the change in environmental variables.

However, it is a fact that I’m elated, what can I say? I’m developing real feelings again for the first time in many years. Unlike the previously employed fake-it-to-make-it salve for loneliness, this is the real fucking deal. It has a hold of me somewhere deep, primal, and magnetic. I’m activated in a way I wasn’t expecting at all.

My physical scores have been wonky since my back, and subsequent rub rub rub ouchy time. I’m doing better though. Heat pad required for a bit and not too much wiggle wraggle.

Things are happening!!!

Compelled

January 4, 2019 by ssnri in Mental Illness, Status Updates and tagged Anxiety, Bipolar, Depression, Dreams, Emotions, Family, Introspection, Life, Love, Mental Health, Mental Illness, Relationships, Self, Sex, Society, Thoughts, Work

M: 4.5

P: 3

I worked today, and it felt like a real Friday for the first time in two years. I was walking into the weekend with a belt load of credibility, paid hours worked, and a satisfaction of earned stupor. I did deserve this good feeling, this qualified euphoria accompanying a respite from the toils of existence. I feel like my life has finally started to accelerate at an exponential rate towards a glimmering point of light.

I am more involved now in my work and local community than ever before. I’m having to reboot my organizational skills, because I’m juggling more responsibility than ever before. At the same time as that burden is flailing about on a centrifugal axis, I’m feeling strong enough to restrain its pull towards chaos. I believe that this represents a culmination of all the work I’ve put in to refining myself at social awareness, personal responsibility and introspection. From the fragmented person who emerged with a bag of clothes and plastic flip flops from the psychiatric hospital, to right now. Lowest point to highest point (so far), in 4 years, and every positive step built upon the next.

Blog, I’ve met someone special at an absolutely perfect time in my life. Just as I am beginning to transition back to full independence, a miraculous woman has come into my life, and I am thankful to have such a compliment to my own spectacularly fulfilling existence. Her symmetry and mine are stunning, and in a category of imagined personality compositions designated as inconceivable instead of one that might exist.

My loneliness had, until very recently, exposed my past regret and shades of old love eviscerated, caused a great deal of turmoil. In all my attempts to find a partner was a dream for someone who would “fit.” I’ve never really comprehended what a “fit” would be. I had only known one person who had ever really come close, until now. Like a stream of concentrated photons, her arrival blasted through the gloom and dust to reveal a landscape of possibility. I’m infatuated. I’m intoxicated, and having a great time getting to know someone I fully intend to keep in my orbit.

I’ve tried this before. Yes. However, I did so while knowing it was a less than ideal fit. An admitted error of terrible consequence. I was making the best of what was available, or so I justified my transgression. Plus, at those intervals, I sought out of a desire to be complete or propped up to new heights by external adoration. I knew it at the beginning, whether I admit it or not, that I was making a mistake. I didn’t know it would consistently be my undoing, but I was not the introspective being I am now.

at this moment though, I’m complete. Three weeks ago, I was complete. In August I was complete. I wasn’t ever looking to find a missing piece out in the universe. I found a piece that fits that I never even knew could be there in the first place. She augments, adds, compliments and enhances. In this fundamental way, there lies a difference that divides the two motivations for companionship indistinguishably. One destined to fail on the basis of stashed resentment, and the other continuously improving and advancing a mutual circumstance for the benefit of both partners. It’s obvious to you too, isn’t it?

Scores III

January 2, 2019 by ssnri in Mental Illness, Status Updates and tagged Anxiety, Bipolar, Depression, Emotions, Family, Introspection, Life, Mental Health, Mental Illness, Self, Society, Thoughts

I think I stated earlier, and as a permalink on the site, that I use a numeric scoring system to track my mental and physical health. This tool makes me more aware of the pattern and wavelength of my changing mental health. I have a scale that fits the nature of my diagnosis.

+10: Mania

+9: Hypomania

+5: Edge of normal euphoria

0: Stable but stoic

-1

-2

-3: Noticeably sad

-4

-5: Edge of acceptable grief

-6

-7

-8: Depressed

-9

-10: Suicidally depressed

I use another scale to help me quantify my physical symptoms, pain or other abnormality going on because of my illness (or exaggerated by it). The scale helps quantify body pain, accelerated heartbeat, fidgetiness, sweaty palms and other expressions. I give this a +10 and -10 scale as well, with equal emphasis on normal/expected ranges and the poles being not a good thing.

I started tracking a few weeks ago and the results have been educational, but not revelatory. I hope that with an increased level of general business, I can start to improve my physical health and muscular stamina. I need to be in better shape in case my dad needs my strength. I want to be able to catch him and hold my ground. I know I can do better.

Well, more work tomorrow. I’m greatly looking forward to the new challenges of my advancing life. I’m going to start keeping my scores on the blog posts I do at the end of the day:

1/2/19

M: 4

P: 2.5

A: 3.25

Alike

January 2, 2019 by ssnri in Mental Illness, Rant, Status Updates and tagged Anxiety, Bipolar, Dreams, Emotions, Family, Life, Mental Health, Mental Illness, NAMI, Pride, Relationships, Self, Sex, Society, Thoughts, Work

Things around my planet have taken a shift over the last few weeks. My dad fell, and he’s lost almost all his lower body strength. I’m carrying him now, from place to place. It breaks my heart, and puts me in a difficult spot, knowing my mom is largely helpless to fulfill the physical obligations.

In contrast, I’ve met someone new named K. Things are off to a very encouraging start, and I definitely approve of the direction we are going. There seems to be a very unique parallelism that is entrancing, fascinating and wonderful. Unique in a way that is beyond expectation. My introspection upon this experience has helped me to live thoughtfully, keeping vigilance on my core mental health with much needed objectivity. Relationships have been destabilizing factors in the past. However, several key factors are designating my introduction to K as wholly different from previous attempts.

I am aware though. Keenly. My life depends on me being able to maintain cognitive consistency. The only way I go forward is if I can do so and still be healthy and live my life fully. At this mature stage of my life, I’m able to manage the many aspects of life, keeping an alignment rather than leaning on any one and causing a disruption.

Fuck man, I just got the low down on my work today (first paid day): Coordinating 2 programs, web admin for 2 domains, facilitator for 2 support groups, education program leader, WALK sponsorship chairman for and now outreach director. All that in 20 hours a week paid, but looking more like 35 with all the volunteering required to meet those obligations. I’m fucking GLAD to be this busy, frankly. Being unoccupied is a state I do not enjoy, and doing so while being a resource consumer rather than contributor makes it more difficult to remain positive. Now, I’m giving more than I ever have, and here I am feeling the best I have in 5 years. I must be very diligent about making sure my stability, energy and motivation are maintained over the course of years, with gradual improvements likely. Caution with consideration.

Like I said, things are looking up for me. Working hard and living with pride is a pretty rewarding path, I’ve found.

Freed

January 1, 2019 by ssnri in Creative Writing, Mental Illness, Status Updates and tagged Creative Writing, Dreams, Emotions, Images, Introspection, Life, Mental Health, Mental Illness, Poem, Poetry, Relationships, Self, Sex, Thoughts

On dandelion winds,

Cinnamon kisses,

Brushed over with delicate leaves.

Boisterous as laughter,

Pounded hollow log thumps–

Push the churned blood,

Enshrined by citrus light.

Upon the cusp of promise,

Shattering rays to reveal–

What lies within.

Just Now…

December 31, 2018 by ssnri in Mental Illness, Status Updates and tagged Anxiety, Bipolar, Depression, Dreams, Emotions, Introspection, Life, Mental Health, Mental Illness, Relationships, Sex, Thoughts

A sudden mallet shatter. A window blasted open. Sun rays beaming. A world of dust cast into the light. This new turn is a portent of happiness.

The soot brushed away. Flattened cardboard. Curled paper. Crumpled into piles and heaved into the shadows.

Testing cautiously. Pain once so near. Thoughts are below but now rising above. What more awaits to be discovered I will soon learn. A journey of shared experiences.

Everless

December 30, 2018 by ssnri in Creative Writing, Mental Illness, Status Updates and tagged Bipolar, Creative Writing, Depression, Divorce, Dreams, Emotions, Images, Life, Loss, Love, Mental Health, Mental Illness, Nightmares, Poem, Poetry, Relationships, Self, Sex, Thoughts

Twins of twilight–

Pixie-blink a flicker,

The grounded stars dance,

Hands catching–

Their fires alive.

Back across the stretching sky,

Racing alone to a distant–

Faded horizon.

Dust falls to ash,

Dimming until dark again.

To Have Hope

December 30, 2018 by ssnri in Mental Illness, Rant and tagged Anxiety, Bipolar, Depression, Dreams, Emotions, Family, Introspection, Life, Love, Mental Health, Mental Illness, Relationships, Self, Thoughts

Believing is not about probability of success, but a choice to craft a purposeful prelude to a desired reality we hope comes to pass. In some extension or another, expectation has a secret that is the most desired result, but it is well hidden underneath the likelihood of disappointment.

I hope to be reached, but I realize also I never will be again. In this situation, I believe in both possibilities while not dedicating myself to permanence of one or the other. Sure I could be happy and fulfilled by love, and that would be fantastic. However, I’m also prepared to die without anyone knowing me any more than they do today.

Why we have to only believe one thing is beyond me. Are we incapable of comparative or contrasting thought? Must we always choose, when no choice is actually needed? I used to be an absolutist, but no more. I can be pessimistic of my chances, yet still vibrantly hopeful and not abandoning the possibility of hope for something more.

Well, there seems to be no movement (for now) in the distant aspiration of online companionship, and my current investment will terminate early February; representing the end of this period of heightened searching. It is good to acknowledge my emotions with effort, while not being driven mad by lack of tangible result. What meaningful increment can there be in such an environment if spinning variables?

I write now as I am alone. Maybe one day I will look back on this in reflective sadness, or in admiration. My life is brilliantly bright right now, and has ample chances to improve. I believe in me, and whatever comes will be accepted regardless.

The Variable

December 28, 2018 by ssnri in Mental Illness and tagged Emotions, Introspection, Love, Mental Health, Mental Illness, Relationships, Self, Society, Thoughts

Do you ever have a new variable enter your stable life-equation and tip the whole thing? Sometimes adding that variable can be the most dangerous part, as one is never sure if the value is going to help or fuck things up. It’s better to get an understanding of acceptable parameter before adding as an integral component, if time and patience afford it.

I’ve done this variable adding, unsuccessfully, a number of times in the past. I’ve seen that variable undo the whole equation, and send it plummeting into exponential agony. I desperately do not wish to repeat the same pattern here again; not now or at any time henceforth.

A tiny speck of light has become momentarily visible; new and shrouded in ambiguity. What lies there is only remotely, distantly postulated; as a theory hangs on the edge of proof.

Unfolding now or later, the possibility of alignment, relation and understanding are a primal lure. Desperate like water to parched lips, it’s easy to gulp mouthfuls greedily while paying no mind to the rest.

I don’t believe in foolish things anymore, but I do like to think the spark isn’t just something J ignited within me and will never happen again. It’s something that others can inspire, and can provide fertile ground for admiration. It’s been a long time since I met someone new I could look up to. Maybe this will change that, but very likely not.

I don’t hope for silly things, but I am game for real things. May this be real, in a time where it is easy to be something false.

Alternate Universes

December 27, 2018 by ssnri in Mental Illness, Status Updates and tagged Anxiety, Bipolar, Depression, Divorce, Dreams, Emotions, Family, Introspection, Life, Loss, Love, Mental Health, Mental Illness, Relationships, Self, Sex, Thoughts

My thoughts run tonight, bucking through the crisp air. J is back in my thoughts, as she has been of late, and always to a lesser extent. I can’t help but spin alternate realities where she brings a stabilizing force to my family dynamic and a new balance is achieved. A place where her quirky, clever humor and woman’s perspective provided balance and helped us feel equal together. Laughing with frequency and living in a state where stability was enjoyed. Dreamy, bleary and almost laughable at just how far from reality it actually is.

The world is cruel, and through it I too have also acted cruelly, and kindly. All at the wrong times, it would seem. Now that the alignment of her life and mine has passed, there is no going back to change what has already been written. The view that accompanies this thought is inevitably folly.

I’m embracing my life now as a caretaker and forever disciple of family. It is so nourishing to protect those we love, and do our best to preserve their safety. I only have so much I can give, but what I have, I do. I love them and I will help guide them to peace in whatever way I can. In my dreams, I reach out to J and open my arms to her again, despite the furious rage she has aimed at me. I have always known her regardless. Somehow, there is peace again.

I can’t help but long for a parallel reality as my own comes under strain. I always imagine one with her in it, when I project myself forward. She is still just as jubilant, having not been thrashed by my disorder. I see so many alternate realities where we coexisted splintering off into infinity.

She opened me up: I got tattoos and pierced my ears, and she exposed me up to a world I had never known before, but was curious to explore. I too gave her things as our paths intersected often once we grew. But I was a fool, and so was she. In thus reality, she may have been able to, but I was never going to live that dream.

Night falls on a turbulent evening. It’s at times like this that I feel truly alone, with no confidant within my bubble to relate myself to. I remember having that though, and it is the greatest joy of my life. For a time, I was blessed.

As in my current predicament, I am granted the strength and stability to endure the changes my family is going to transition through. I am fortunate. I can do more. I will do more for them.

I have dreams. They will forever say dreams. I look back, and I am filled with regret.

I just know I will never be over her.

Pillar Talk

December 27, 2018 by ssnri in Mental Illness, Rant, Status Updates and tagged Anxiety, Bipolar, Depression, Emotions, Family, Introspection, Loss, Mental Health, Mental Illness, Nightmares, Relationships, Self, Suicide, Thoughts, Trauma

There is no better place to test one’s coping toolkit than in a crisis. Conveniently, I happen to be in one of the familial variety, which as indicated by previous posts, is an ongoing, developing and mutating issue. I’m near to this unfurling destructive situation, with no hope of achieving the proximity of safety due to the bonds of conscience. The variables causing the conflict are also unstoppable in their perspective; aligning them to a path that only leads to a continuation of trauma while the gap between the energies seems destined for concussive retaliation.

I’ve been surviving in this environment by figuring out what expectations I need to have rather than wish I had, and living wisely within my means. I know I’m only going to be able to relate to them on a limited set of issues, and the window they see me through is made smaller by my accommodation rather than personal obstinance. I’ve learned where I need to have my own strength, because depending on an external source is much less stable. My parents don’t know any other way: mom can’t be strong on her own as she’s dependent on him for her consistency, stability, assurance of survival… she has no mutual or self-imposed logic, discipline or interest in a healthy conversation aimed at a resolution.

It’s sad to have to “defend” oneself against loved ones, but I have a history of instigating and now enduring situations of high emotional volatility. I have a talent for knowing when I am in a sound moral position (promoting radiant strength) having not been so on many regrettable occasions. It is sad to see the deterioration of more than just their physical selves; the very fabric of what used to make them strong has been torn and continues to unravel as they insist on stretching without strengthening it. The result is that I end up being alone and introspective for my own benefit, knowing the details of my process might as well be Japanese to them.

Acceptance of things that will not change has been hugely instrumental in helping me focus my energy on things that I can have some sway over. My priorities are healthier, my expectations (if any) are realistic and I am keenly aware of my own interpersonal mechanics as I improve in handling stress and conflict within myself.

I still see myself, as a 15 – 17 year old man, effusing, erupting, devastating my environment with my uncontrolled emotional irregularities. I used to get so full of rage, and I would cast it out to everyone in my proximity, unfiltered, unregulated, uncontrolled. The long-term repercussions of that become clear, along with the burden of inflicted catastrophe on the clean white sheet of morality. I got tired of that way, the turmoil, the imbalance.

The reach of my gravity is minuscule in this place, like Io at aphelion, hoping it’s going to move Jupiter closer to it with a good yank. However, it’s always just going to be a tiny little blip in the orbit of something much too large to be influenced. Sometimes, it’s best to just let gravity take you around and worry about having a clear path to do so.

I don’t have the best coping tools either, mind you. I’m drinking a little more, smoking a little more, just slightly disconnecting myself from this place. It’s agony when the air is full of hate like this, and I’m trapped in here most of the time, too fearful of the environment to be free. It’s not the healthiest way, I know. I’m not perfect by any means, but I am going to survive.

25th

December 25, 2018 by ssnri in Mental Illness, Rant and tagged Bipolar, Depression, Dreams, Emotions, Family, Introspection, Mental Health, Mental Illness, Self, Thoughts

Arbitrary as it may be, today is a period of celebration for many. I spent mine with family, sharing in the festivities prescribed. Though, the paradigm shows its flaws at regular intervals, the 25th being no exception.

There are plenty of things to be frustrated by just floating around out there in and around our lives. I’ve tried to focus my frustrations on things I design to change rather than be needlessly stressed trying to address things I can’t. Still though, I find time to pound my skull against the concrete despite all my good intent. Reality is undeniable if viewed honestly.

All the good from today was a frothy mug. I feel all full of bubbles and food, which, now that I write it, doesn’t seem like a wonderful thing even though it is.

One thought keeps passing through me: how to cap this fountain of emotion surging from underneath? Can I ever just eradicate her from my concerns? Is there a file I can delete and cripple the program from running? Stupid sounding thoughts are conceived in a turbulent environment, and give away their absurdity when scrutinized.

No answers. No more new words or peace. No absolution, only the shattered mirror of imperfect memory. I haven’t turned my sadness into hate, because I know there is no satisfaction there… only a burning within that consumes all that stoked it to frenzy and carried it forward.

Just like a phoenix, there can still be rebirth even after the fire has burned through seemingly everything. I believe in that fully, even though I did not experience that situation personally. I have that shard of glowing hope inside where I see her wings burst forth from the soot of her spent rage. Life finds a way to be lived despite our best intentions sometimes.

As the new year approaches, I am now wondering how I will rise out of my own metaphorical sludge to a more liberated and compassionately introspective state. There is no end to the future possible advancements in self care, as far as I can see.

Merry Christmas to you all.

Eve

December 24, 2018 by ssnri in Mental Illness, Rant and tagged Anxiety, Bipolar, Depression, Emotions, Family, Introspection, Life, Mental Health, Mental Illness, Relationships, Self, Thoughts

Despite all my subsurface emotional turbulence illustrated in recent posts, I’m doing quite well mentally this Christmas Eve night. Family, love, smiles and laughter all through the dinner hour. Food, football and memories formed as a result.

I look back in my thoughts, but have eyes for the future. There is more brightness in the upcoming horizon than there ever will be looking back for candle light in the darkness. It’s not the stylish version of emotional distress as illustrated in pop culture, but it is true nonetheless.

My life isn’t full of drama; I know very well where I am going. It’s not up for debate really, but it is a discussion worth having anyway. Expression is coping, and doing honor to those feelings that are strong enough to be present. As improbable as it may sound, this balanced dichotomy IS me rather than is rending me asunder.

I am proud, and reflective as well. This is what being complex and human is all about, I imply through demonstration. Learning, growing, changing. I don’t dwell in the sadness, I embrace it and move forward. No upwelling emotion goes unacknowledged; no memory avoids the light of revelation. I miss her, and I’m also fine without her.

I know, I’m bipolar and yet you don’t see me retreating to one end of the spectrum in indignation or denial. I just think I’ve found a better way.

On this night, I remember, and then, I go to sleep. Goodnight to whispers, memories and promises.

6 Years

December 24, 2018 by ssnri in Mental Illness, Status Updates and tagged Anxiety, Bipolar, Depression, Divorce, Emotions, Family, Introspection, Life, Loss, Love, Mental Health, Mental Illness, Nightmares, Relationships, Self, Thoughts, Trauma

How much time is quantifiably “enough?” How long SHOULD things take… or how long do we want them to last? Time is happening, but, I find, individual perceptions of it vary greatly. Including my own, within my own life.

I found something on the internet while clinging desperately hope and scouring for words and images of my past. I found some text and read it, from 6 years ago on Christmas… It was the spark of something powerful, frozen in time). A check-in from a previously unremembered interval that seems now more like decades ago. My chronologic sense of this period, not the same as memory, is vastly different from the actual measured steps of days recorded. Things were accelerating towards a peak in these words, glowing and radiant. I feel far removed from parallels or similarity now, but the hurt of it is still near…

What I think my askew sense of time shows is that it doesn’t take long for our lives to change. In the years since that note, I’ve fundamentally reprioritized, changed professions, passions, goals, and embraced a new reality that works for equilibrium in my present environment. I look back and both sigh with awe, and swallow hard knowing what dark days lie ahead. When I reflected, I thought about how many things I had yet to learn, and how fundamental a reboot I would receive in the years to come.

During the decay after that peak, things seemed agonizingly drawn-out, but smeared and indiscernible, like grease on drywall. Such distant turbulence is hard to accurately document with memory, but little glimmers like this one remind me that, regardless of outcome, it started the right way. I had forgotten, but the origin was well intended, innocent, pure, impulsive and magnetic. It was like a dream, but I didn’t work nearly enough to make sure it stayed beautiful, and we fell into decay.

A gift from the past, but one that carries the weight and responsibility of reality. I am a creepy stalker asshole whatever to go sniffing around… but my heart is broken and I don’t have enough ways of coping that channel my emotions productively, apparently. I look for her words somewhere out there, with an ill-fated desire seeking an alternative reality that doesn’t exist. I know it isn’t hiding on some website, waiting to be found, which rends me even more. There is no end, only an ongoing state of realized, unrequited incompleteness… and our remembered laughter echoes down the long hallway of time, reaching my ears as little more than screams.

I must resolve of my own accord, and in a time that suits me best.

Reconcile

December 24, 2018 by ssnri in Mental Illness, Rant and tagged Anxiety, Bipolar, Depression, Divorce, Emotions, Family, Loss, Love, Mental Health, Mental Illness, Relationships

A great deal of pain comes from this place of knowing there is no way to heal the gaping wound wrought by past trauma. No matter how badly I desire the bridge of communication to be passible, it isn’t. No dawn in the future, only a lingering dusk just after light has been sniffed out.

Once a thing is broken, the only choice has been to destroy it completely. Once a stain appears, the whole is forfeit. This absolutism deprives one of the responsibility of repair, or repurposed use. I scrap only what is irreparable, and despite the portents of death, there are still some damaged, tattered things I believe in.

Figuring out what to do with this has been a struggle for me. I am powerless, in the dark and unable to find a safe way out. The constant reminder of my previously earned solitude hangs on me like a bundle of meaning over my shoulder. I long so desperately, yet don’t exude and effuse in my daily life. This torment stays almost entirely within, in a place it can be kept away from contaminating the rest.

I’m pretty sure this is indefinitely ongoing. My future filled with the anger of years carried on across the plain like a ceaseless thunderstorm. All the while the wind and rain, I keep hoping.

Specters

December 23, 2018 by ssnri in Creative Writing, Mental Illness, Status Updates and tagged Anxiety, Bipolar, Creative Writing, Depression, Divorce, Dreams, Emotions, Loss, Mental Health, Mental Illness, Nightmares, Poem, Poetry, Relationships, Thoughts

In the curtain shadow,

Lingering like a ghost.

A whisper–

Echoes of laughter,

Open window hiss,

Listening–

This tired refrain,

Polluted in nostalgia,

Screams are breath–

Erased by the wind.

J Sequence

December 23, 2018 by ssnri in Mental Illness, Rant and tagged Bipolar, Depression, Divorce, Dreams, Emotions, Family, Loss, Love, Mental Health, Mental Illness, Nightmares, Relationships

Her face was here again. This time, her cuteness expressed in toy-batting playful behavior and boisterousness. I remember most keenly that she was with some friends of mine she never knew, captured in home video handheld camera nostalgia. In a booth at the restaurant, they gathered for a lunch that had and will not ever take place.

Earlier, I was delivering a sermon, saying “hosannah in the highest” and “praise be to God” before a massive crowd of soldiers with spears and axes. They waived their weapons of war and cheered in their clanking armor.

Some of my friends were doing a stage play before the sermon, which pleased the soldiers greatly. My friends were dressed is little old men in white robes and had little candle holders in their hands. They all three scooted out into the stage barefoot while a man in a gold cape tried to reach out and grab them from the wings while I held on to his flappy and tattered cape.

J looked beautiful. Her hair was kinda poofy, like she had styled it. She was on video playing with a keychain toy the dentist gave her in his office, then eating food at a restaurant with my old friends, mentioned earlier. She was eating a plantain it looked like, and the food she was attempting to conquer was too big to fit in her mouth. She laughed at the situation in that joyous way she does.

There was fire burning the land earlier, before J was anywhere. My old home had been reduced to ash as I saw from above. The fire was still burning over a few ridges. Smoke billowing up into the blue sky.

It wasn’t just me watching J, my whole family was there gathered around the TV of my childhood home. We were commenting on how cute she was and that she didn’t know she was on camera. My mom laughed while J spun the little keychain around on her finger as her eyes chased the toy, spinning around in the air.

At that moment, even though a screen and distance divided us from each other, I knew she was still a fit in this family, and a part of us somehow.

Waking up alone and too early, I wonder quietly if she is out there somewhere thriving, living a new life that is entirely her own. Once she flew away, I could not see. I do not know, or truly want to know, because there is no reality comparable to the one I’m in when I sleep.

Tomfoolery

December 22, 2018 by ssnri in Mental Illness and tagged Anxiety, Bipolar, Depression, Divorce, Dreams, Life, Loss, Love, Mental Health, Mental Illness, Nightmares, Self, Thoughts

The time for celebrating is nigh Blog. After all this time volunteering, I’m gainfully employed nearly at full time starting in January. I’m an employee of NAMI Sacramento and Mintz Computer Guyz for nearly 30 hrs/week. This is enough to replenish my lost savings and then some. What a relief that is!!!

I hear my negative voice trying to put a damper on my progress. It says: “you’re a liar and a crook. Your soul is black and you destroy everything you touch. You will bring only destruction to these people and your so called work.”

While I appreciate how much that voice hates me, evidence speaks to the contrary. I am valued in my occupation for my honesty and legitimate results. My heart is full of effusive joy, and I make those around me desire my company. I build things with effort and work, and promote a positive future for myself and others. I bring the advancement of goals and fulfillment of possibilities to all things I apply my passion to.

The proof is right here in front of me; laid out in deeds and actions done. That negative voice from within or without doesn’t have much fact to base a claim of ineptitude. I look at the proof of assumption and see the truth.

The voice demands a polar reality, where any transgression is tantamount to the worst conceivable result. Inflation, roiling resentment and unending hate are the motivators for this contributor. So, as I have with other persistent negative voices, I’ve learned to tune them out.

It is a tough habit to break, the indulging of the voice. We listen to it sometimes. Believe in the self-destructive lies. A pattern repeated until learned away from. I have not finished indulging that voice… which takes in the potent form of someone once loved (but now jailed in resentment).

The voice is only as sustainable as the environment allows. Once the climate is positive, it doesn’t make sense to listen to it anymore. I hope for more days like that ahead, as the barrage continues regardless.

Solstice

December 22, 2018 by ssnri in Mental Illness, Rant and tagged Anxiety, Bipolar, Depression, Divorce, Dreams, Emotions, Family, Introspection, Life, Loss, Love, Mental Health, Mental Illness, Nightmares, Relationships, Self, Sex, Society, Thoughts

The days are growing again, slowly, coming to bear full as we travel around and around that big yellow thingie. We have been pointed at darkness for long enough, I say.

I’m hoping not to dream anymore. Rips are forming in my canvas, and the formerly delightful introspective brush set seems to paint only in black. It is this dark hour, when cuddling up by a warm seem the most honest if truths, that I mourn. I yearn, pointlessly.

The sun is coming. From out the shadows, it is blooming, growing. Radiating. I wish for that return to the hissing summer ghosts on the dry wind. The far away pollen smells of distant places, deep wet mountains and trees gulping in and breathing out.

Maybe this is it. Maybe not. It’s better to be prepared to deal with a difficult outcome than to be surprised by it. I can be surprised by all sorts of other things, but not calamity.

Down to the last few days before Christmas. Family, friends, fire… and freaking huge buds. Beer, bread and BADDA BOOM! We do know how to have a good time.

I do t think anyone is getting in the circle now. Not anyone new. It’s just too late.

Threadbare

December 20, 2018 by ssnri in Creative Writing, Mental Illness, Status Updates and tagged Bipolar, Creative Writing, Death, Depression, Divorce, Dreams, Emotions, Images, Life, Loss, Love, Mental Health, Mental Illness, Poem, Poetry, Relationships, Self, Sex, Thoughts, Trauma

A sinew;

Twisting, stretch-snapping the expanse,

Shredded down to an impossible wire.

But feeling it there–

Some thread still binding,

In unrequited twitterpation,

Escaping the fury of torment,

Yet yanking at the throat–

Scraping the hole left by death.

It’s only in dreaming–

That some bridge still exists,

A span still endures,

Where she can still be found.

L

December 20, 2018 by ssnri in Mental Illness and tagged Anxiety, Bipolar, Creative Writing, Depression, Divorce, Dreams, Emotions, Images, Introspection, Life, Loss, Mental Health, Mental Illness, Nightmares, Relationships, Self, Thoughts, Trauma

Down is there under the mask.

In the flesh itself.

Broiling with fever just underneath.

It is a pressure.

A slowly increasing a downward force.

Feeling bones crunching and snapping.

It is a beat of the heart.

Agonizingly drawn out and scrutinized.

Grasping for purchase where there is none.

Pulsing, gulping and sputtering on.

It is the mirror of memory.

All the second guessing and reassessing.

Spinning alternate fates.

Musing on impossible realities.

Wishing to live in a dream instead of life.

Saddened by the depths of dejection.

Wilderness-bound, cold and wandering.

Screaming only where no one can hear.

Real

December 20, 2018 by ssnri in Mental Illness, Status Updates and tagged Bipolar, Depression, Divorce, Dreams, Emotions, Loss, Mental Health, Mental Illness, Nightmares, Relationships, Sex, Thoughts

Where is this place? My feet are not on the ground. I am compelled by the gusts of pain, upon an uncertain wind of remembering. How to escape it? Flee to some other world where things are different, albeit temporarily. Long for rest where dreams may bring me near to someone I used to love. A pervading sense of ongoing solitude restricting my oxygen. The waves crash ceaselessly. Pounding the craggy shore. Again and again.

I wish my pinky toe would die and fall off my foot. All it brings is pain, being a magnet for hard corners.

There is no resolution here, only an ongoing application of filter to restrain the localized toxicity of reality. The bitter bile of truth, ingested agonizingly.

Original J

December 20, 2018 by ssnri in Mental Illness, Status Updates and tagged Anxiety, Bipolar, Depression, Divorce, Dreams, Emotions, Introspection, Loss, Love, Mental Health, Mental Illness, Relationships, Self, Sex, Thoughts, Trauma

Before Ja* there was Je*, and last night I was again visited by a spectre of my past. in Je*’s relationship, there was a very physical, carnal, fuel abundance. My dream ventured deep into the entwining moisture of sex, the spontaneity of passion, the strip-down clothes-shredding-seizure that ensures when the moment is nigh. But yes, there was still that anger and conflict. Even amidst that largely satisfactory arrangement, there was the tension of misunderstanding, the vast gorge filled with resentment looming. The fire burned fast, flickered, and then was gone forever.

It is emblematic of my past relationships. Starting with an explosion of similarly mirrored energies, then dwindling as the strands tear in the drift. It makes me wonder if I am going to be alone for the rest of my life. It makes me wonder if I am even capable of being a good partner. It reminds me of what it feels like to be loved by no one who doesn’t have to.

The Ribbon

December 19, 2018 by ssnri in Mental Illness, Rant and tagged Divorce, Emotions, Introspection, Life, Loss, Love, Mental Health, Mental Illness, Relationships, Self, Thoughts

This dangly, barely alive leg is about to cross over, yet, the gasping push is microcosmic in relation to the race. We are all running, flailing, falling, but still trying to break that proverbial ribbon.

The silence of hate. Somewhere far away, a sleeping mountain grumbles beneath. It’s all rose petals and la la la, right? That’s how this goes? Why don’t we all gather round the marmalade and sing a merry song of doom?

There are no stories that go how we think. There is this life, here, now… we do what we can with what we have left. The container is corrupted now. The whole spiraling nightmare is true, and from that irreconcilable oblivion the state of things is found. No fur-brained delusions will come true no matter how many are fed to the blood altar.

Wallow or wallop. It’s really up to you.

Insane Mumblings?

December 19, 2018 by ssnri in Mental Illness, Rant, Status Updates and tagged Anxiety, Bipolar, Depression, Divorce, Dreams, Emotions, Family, Introspection, Life, Loss, Love, Mental Health, Mental Illness, Relationships, Self, Sex, Thoughts

After a night of purging my emotional turbulence (see below), I find myself again, reflectively pointed toward action. Even after all the castigation and ridicule I subjected myself to, those pestering voices tend to get quieter when I’m being proactive in my life or meaningfully responsible, or using the evidence of such to validate the truth. This helps me do battle with that negativity when it shows up, most of the time. I tend to be more rational than spontaneously emotional, so going back over my thoughts and feelings helps me quantify and understand my responses to things. My reaction to J memories returning has been to vent, which I suppose is working in some ways. However, there is no real cohesion to a response or a course of action.

However. there is not a fundamental desire to make this a focal point of my ongoing life, even with some gesturing. Instead, it has taken a passenger’s back seat to several other priority items. Right now, I think I am my most well equipped to be a functional communicator In my life, however, not rushing to fill the space a partner would have. I still yearn for something abstract, shaped like a nostalgically recalled relationship I once had that was seemingly wonderful. None of that is rational. The assignment of emotions and blurriness to the memory is harmful at best, and arbitrary in nature since any number of other emotions are attached this way as well, and not destructively.

I see my wound, that place inside me that is still hurt, but there is no action to take, no tool to pick up and use. I just get up, and continue walking forward undeterred. She and I hurt each other, and now that pain reminds me of how not to fall into a similar situation, for myself or anyone else. My learned diligence as a result of my collapse has helped me take on the responsibilities I have today, and the fulfilling life so-far crafted. It was a scarring, agonizing lesson to fail, lose everything, reboot… and I still remind myself of that failure, as has been apparent.

What am I doing? I’m coping through expression, the best I can, to deal with my mixed up feelings and try to appease the part of me that is still fractured and splintered with pain. If I will never be able to help her resolve her pain, then at least I can work to resolve mine. It frustrates the logic motor to have nothing to “do,” per-say, no way to repair or permanently heal, other than to do one’s best obelisk impersonation for as long as possible. Survive, learn, and adapt. The pain will never stop, but it does not have to be a focus as it has been of late…

View From Below

December 18, 2018 by ssnri in Mental Illness, Rant, Status Updates and tagged ADD, Anxiety, Bipolar, Creative Writing, Depression, Divorce, Dreams, Emotions, Introspection, Life, Loss, Love, Mental Health, Mental Illness, Relationships, Self, Sex, Thoughts, Work

I find myself engrossed in the mud of memory, slipping Back with each grueling step forward. There is sadness dragging me down, forcing me into the decompositional murk.

It is J. The memory of her. The impact she had in my life. After 4 years, the sting of her absence is just as real as the day she flew away. I know not how no let go of that pain. I feel her like a piece missing in my soul; at the very core of who I am. She reached me like no other, and I must accept she is gone forever.

I have not been able to do this because I still love who she was. I still love what we had when it was beautiful. She understood me like none before, and now she will never come back. The pain I feel here is something years have not reduced. Her departure is as fresh and bloody as any recent wound. Now, during this warm and family time of year, I miss her the most.

In times like this, when I remember, I tend to reflect in order to preserve my sanity. Having no word from her but another hateful disconnect in our frail communications is all I have left to remember her by. Her animosity. Accusing me of rape. She must truly despise me, which is a pain I must accept. I hurt her beyond repair, and now… now I am scum. A criminal. A pile of dirt. I wish. I wish she could see how I still love her. I wish she knew.

Blog, I come here to express, not to resolve. Unless clearly stated, my feelings are cast out into the ether with no expectation of understanding or compassion. I have only my own life to answer to.

I got a job today, and now I will have an income. I am a part of a team growing into future successes and possibilities. A whole new life built on pride and honesty is available for me. It is a future brighter than I have had in a very long time. I wish I could share it with her. I wish she was here with me, in these joyous times. I love her. I will not be able to stop, even if she wishes I was dead. All the wishes in the world will fall into the endless silence. There will be no reply. The dead do not respond. My broken place remains as it was, ever hoping, never knowing.

Daily Plop

December 17, 2018 by ssnri in Mental Illness and tagged Bipolar, Depression, Divorce, Dreams, Emotions, Introspection, Loss, Love, Mental Health, Mental Illness, Nightmares, Relationships, Self

How fragile the whole thing is. Just a scratch and the blood pours forth. Right there, still, after all this time.

And yet her vibration is hatred. Animosity, rage, disgust. How does one reconcile such a schism? There is no way forward from back there. Such deep prolonged sadness. A terrible regret for such a thing to go unreconciled.

Alas there is no answer. Just hopes cast like screams into the wind. Carried off again to some unknown fate, there is nothing left to hope for. No trace left to be found.

Deep in the dark, alone, I wonder where she is. Does she still feel me, the way I feel her? I tease myself with impossibilities yet always hold out true hope for a future that has almost no chance of being possible.

Music scrapes away the armor. Recollections of deep potency. These and many other tribulations of the heart of someone lost. Spinning down into a space filled with cold. I have not been the same since then, and I’m still figuring out how to be at peace with having lost her.

Meet Me There

December 16, 2018 by ssnri in Mental Illness and tagged Anxiety, Bipolar, Creative Writing, Depression, Divorce, Dreams, Emotions, Images, Love, Mental Health, Mental Illness, Nightmares, Poem, Poetry, Relationships, Sex, Thoughts

Pierce the tangible vail,

An echo timeless–

Her figments arrayed,

Through the fractured parallels.

Meet me there–

Where only our shades dance,

Dreamers in life,

Estranged from reality,

The final bastion of us.

Stargazer

December 14, 2018 by ssnri in Creative Writing, Mental Illness and tagged Astronomy, Dreams, Emotions, Fantasy, Images, Love, Mental Health, Mental Illness, Poem, Poetry, Relationships, Self | 3 Comments

Streak burning green across the stars,

Puffy warm breaths at Jupiter and Mars,

Frozen cheeks stare in awestruck wonderment,

At surprises revealed by atmospheric turbulence,

Holding hands tight beneath the warm blankets,

Sky polished and bright for the great royal banquet,

Beneath the black cloak eyes ache for sleep,

For this fanciful dream he will always keep.

Bloosh

December 14, 2018 by ssnri in Mental Illness, Rant, Status Updates and tagged Bipolar, Depression, Divorce, Emotions, Loss, Love, Mental Health, Mental Illness, Nightmares, Relationships

Retreating into a cave where destructive activity prevails. Gross meat smells. Funk. Sweat. Not many fans lining up for a sniff.

Sadly, this is the way that seems most likely. A slow half-life decay into subatomic oblivion. Casting no shadow in this world. What does it feel like to be erased from desirability?

I love someone who is gone from my reality. Gone forever with no trace; as though whisked to the ethereal plain. More an idea than an actuality now. The shredded hopes of a forgotten time. Writhing with the mournful despair for the dead.

Dried in the sunlight. Wasted to slurry in the dank dark of rotting loss. Grasping at the walls, hoping to climb out of it. Nails shredded and flesh-raw fingers rake the walls with blood. There was never any way out. Lying beside her corpse in the darkness.

She hated every last piece of me. Maybe hates me still. Nothing left. No part of my past that was worth keeping. Only the foul stink of decomposition remains. Yet, I wallow beside. In the festering bile, I still hope.

‘Grained

December 14, 2018 by ssnri in Creative Writing, Mental Illness and tagged Creative Writing, Divorce, Images, Loss, Love, Mental Health, Mental Illness, Poem, Poetry, Self, Work

Some ridges–

Blunted by time’s decay,

Fractured rivulets across the plain,

Cavernous, engulfing.

Sometimes brushed or bruised–

Maimed and tarnished by use,

Stained, scarred–

Two canvases.

—

Alight a feather’s grace,

Delicate fingers unfurl,

Blessed the slightest droplet of dew,

Corralled briefly,

Unchanneled and free–

A transient of history engrained.

Under

December 13, 2018 by ssnri in Mental Illness, Status Updates and tagged Anxiety, Bipolar, Depression, Divorce, Dreams, Introspection, Life, Loss, Love, Mental Health, Mental Illness, Nightmares, Relationships, Self, Thoughts

Taken back. Days that seem brighter in their nostalgia. Is it misplaced fondness, or some bleary portrayal obscured beyond reality? I doubt there is a polar answer, but an amalgamation of both imagination and scar tissue.

Dreams can be triggers. Who was she to have left such a deep mark, one I have never healed from? It seems impossible, but it isn’t. The pain is very real. It’s with me always.

Numbered pasts. Counted scenes. Missed chances. How different would it have needed to be to have sustained? Are there parallel universes where we are still?

Drowning in my thoughts is s fitting way to disappear into unconsciousness.

-Yonder

December 13, 2018 by ssnri in Creative Writing, Mental Illness and tagged Bipolar, Depression, Images, Life, Mental Health, Mental Illness, Poem, Poetry, Pride

Glinting off wet lashes,

Tired, peering into the bright–

Piercing glare.

Furrowed for shade,

Revealing scars, lines–

Staring, smashing into shards,

Reflecting–

Too real to behold.

Dreaming Again

December 13, 2018 by ssnri in Mental Illness, Status Updates and tagged Anxiety, Bipolar, Depression, Divorce, Dreams, Emotions, Images, Loss, Love, Mental Health, Mental Illness, Nightmares, Relationships, Self, Sex

It started with a big social gathering at some neutral site. J was there, but she wasn’t how I remembered her: she was tanned, rounder but absolutely beautiful. We sparred with playful words across the ballroom then retreated to the side. I saw what I felt was true in her eyes.

There was a house, but it was Kyle’s house. I don’t know anyone named Kyle, but we were both invited to go to stay. The house was huge beyond comprehension. I was on the top floor with my cat in a room that was strewn with papers, books, clothes and other loose objects. Other cats were lingering outside my door which worried me.

She was in another room somewhere, but we were so far apart we had to call each other on the phone to talk. We expressed our explicit desires, intentionally, and fully.

When i found her in the house, the same fire she had from my memory of our past was there as we tossed, giggled and touched lips briefly in our private bedroom. There was untapped passion there, just on the edge of revelation. We did not go to all the places we could have; there was ecstasy in savoring the moment.

The house began to spin. I stumbled to find a way out. I tried to rescue my cat as it was assailed on all sides by resident cats. They attacked, clawed viciously. I grabbed them by the scruff and tossed them away, but they kept coming.

I made my way to the bottom, but kept tipping over, crashing into things, scattering books across the floor, hitting the ground and getting back up. I got out, but fell down on the concrete curb outside, for the last time. She was there, but she couldn’t rouse me as my consciousness slipped away. She wished desperately that I would wake, but I was gone.

Kyle’s house was on the shore, and as I looked out for the last time, the tide was coming in.

Untethered

December 7, 2018 by ssnri in Mental Illness, Status Updates and tagged Anxiety, Bipolar, Depression, Divorce, Dreams, Emotions, Introspection, Love, Mental Health, Mental Illness, Nightmares, Relationships, Sex

C Score: 2.5

E Score: 1.5

The drag of time. A hook sunk deep into the meat, constraining and directing. Sometimes questions are louder because they can’t be quickly answered, if at all. Screams echoing in the chasm. Where ambiguity pervades, depression follows.

I don’t long for companionship in a way that dictates action, and have no motivation to flip reality upside down to satisfy the ache. In the end, I’m too enmeshed to risk toppling stability over an uncertainty. Knowing when to extend is a talent I’m getting better at. Still, old harmonies remind, and invite a reprisal. The palisades and balconies in my dreams are the only vistas she still makes sense in. This figure who is with me. Whoever she has or will be.

I’m lost to old glimpses. My edifice paraded by uneasy crowds, ingloriously, in a city frothing with unrest. Little more than an icon from a long dead time. My world is made of things that can’t be forgotten.

Maybe the next few upcoming days will provide some clarity, or maybe there is no escape from the shadow of love. For all my griping, I remain untethered.

Evening Thought-Purge

December 5, 2018 by ssnri in Mental Illness, Rant, Status Updates and tagged ADD, Anxiety, Bipolar, Depression, Divorce, Dreams, Emotions, Introspection, Life, Loss, Love, Mental Health, Mental Illness, Nightmares, Relationships, Self, Sex, Thoughts

Reflecting after group, I see how common issues build bridges of compassion or understanding. I’m feeling extra introspective:

I keep hoping I’ll dream about J like I did a few weeks ago. She’s the only echo left… all the others have faded into nothing. In my dream, we had a strange encounter, but it reminded me of several aspects to my past feelings that feel very real now. In that moment with her, things were like they used to be… a familiar sort of estrangement. A sense of elusive excitement. It was a piece I could hold in my hands that now is shrinking down into nothing.

I know I’m not doing my best. I have recently, but not anymore. My best is too expensive; all I can afford is meh. Dwindle.

Longing for spark, or poof & rabbit. The friskyfied feelings. The electric arcs fingertip snapping their crackle. I remember what it was, that I had it, but that was long ago it seems.

This is a fool’s errand.

The cauldron churns some new rancid elixir which will grant stupendous charisma at the cost of unfathomable isolation.

Morn

December 5, 2018 by ssnri in Mental Illness and tagged Bipolar, Emotions, Images, Life, Mental Health, Mental Illness, Poem, Poetry

Cold air’s ambiance-

Pieced by a rustle of readiness,

Bent with leaves and frosted petals,

Crunched to a waxing glimmer,

Succulent melted ice,

Crispy splash awakening.

The aching, radiant reach–

Exciting the monotony,

Of ecstasy.

Sniffed

December 4, 2018 by ssnri in Mental Illness, Rant, Status Updates and tagged Anxiety, Bipolar, Depression, Emotions, Family, Introspection, Life, Mental Health, Mental Illness, Self, Sex, Thoughts

The carousel of experience continues at a dizzying pace but all the while I wish for the silence of a moonless night. I can hear little teeth chattering across the floor. Chitter chatter chitter chatter.

What is being? Where is the anchor of meaning? I’m a desperate pilgrim on a journey too vast to comprehend. All I can think about is the hill directly ahead.

There’s only me. No one is likely to get inside the laugh box again. I’m too skewed from center to be reconciled, it seems. I think I have pretty much come to accept this. Almost two years now and no more desperate than when it started.

Flattering the obelisk only has so many permutations. So shiny and hieroglyphics so nice. But what else can you say? Someone else comes along and it all sounds so fresh and real. I don’t know what it is; it’s simply ear candy. Something missed.

Goodnight.

Eggerfried

November 30, 2018 by ssnri in Mental Illness, Rant and tagged Anxiety, Bipolar, Depression, Emotions, Family, Introspection, Mental Health, Mental Illness, Pride, Self, Trauma

Do things break that little bubble around you like they do for me sometimes? Not sure on the specifics of what pierces and what does not, but I definitely know when it is happening. I feel abruptly emotional, suddenly swimming in head scrunchies and often times a bit spinny with the unfriendly.

I tend to go away and hide both literally and figuratively. “I need time to think,” I tell myself in my brain. Dust particles take a few minutes of not thrashing around to settle down and reveal the original source of the kerfuffle. After that, I start having decent thoughts, but carefully.

I’m human. I get angry sometimes, yeah. I try to avoid venting on to anyone in real life as that smells of unhealthy. Anger, rage and hate are Ailey forces used to destroy things, or others. There is great power, but only to support waste. Instead of consuming the galaxy in my agony, I find myself writing things that never get published or stewing on a chain linked series of compounding thoughts which have some negative reason for being.

I don’t expect that I will ever get pro at any of this. The mean voice has all sorts of clever ways of being relevant. Coping skills can be taught, yes. However, implementing is an entirely different animal. Failure, dismay and regret are frequent customers at the diner of my consternation.

One thing I feel I’ve improved on is not stuffing my frustration without recognition and also to avoid acting on volatile emotions. Fucking that up is likely to happen, bus do too will getting back up. Emotions deserve respect for being, but not indulgence to further stuff the gluttonous beast. Just stop, breathe, count to a number higher than 6, and use your butterfly voice.

Dredge

November 28, 2018 by ssnri in Creative Writing, Mental Illness, Status Updates and tagged Anxiety, Bipolar, Creative Writing, Death, Depression, Divorce, Emotions, Images, Loss, Love, Mental Health, Mental Illness, Nightmares, Poem, Poetry, Relationships, Sex, Trauma

Sunk-shaft in throat-deep brown,

Residual, pungent excrement of time,

Aspirate viscous words,

Review abhorrent scenes–

Snarled in knotted forever nevers,

Plopped firmly in the mud of then.

The stink of hate–

Long permeated through cracked windows–

Careless doorseams,

The dank, mildew-wet scent–

Of irreconcilability.

Puffification

November 28, 2018 by ssnri in Mental Illness, Rant and tagged Anxiety, Bipolar, Depression, Divorce, Emotions, Introspection, Life, Love, Mental Health, Mental Illness, NAMI, Relationships, Sacramento, Self, Sex, Society, Thoughts, Volunteer, Work

I was thinking disparagingly about my exes tonight, which is usually a bad thing. I thought: now, with all the fuck-tastic awesomeness of my evolved self, there is no place where you would ever fit. You see, I pine for them still. I yearn for them as though it were years ago. This is unhealthy.

Irrelevant. This word fits perfectly in the now, because metaphorical organisms shed versions of themselves not suited to survive in the ever changing circumstance of reality, in order to prevail in survival. I mean, I compare myself not spitefully, but logically or factually.

I get into this rut of thinking these past relationships contain some present-day worth other than what I have gleaned through introspective reflection, post destruction. I am somewhere far away from where I used to be, which makes parallels useless.

Tonight was week 5 of my support group, which inspired me to create the following list of adjectives: communal, open, emotional, cathartic, safe and joyous. I feel fantastic, which maybe is why I cast aspersions at my past. None of them can now or ever did truly see me for the fucking awesome person I am, even if only a glimmer of it was visible back then. I don’t need positive reinforcement; all the proof is right here! I am the book!

Even if I’m the only one who really knows, at least I found a place in this world where I both belong and can make a difference.

I’m okay. I’m going to be just fine. I need to be both grateful and resentful sometimes. This is real life where shit often hits the fan, which rarely results in anything not having shit stuck to it.

Specked, Re–

November 28, 2018 by ssnri in Mental Illness, Rant and tagged Anxiety, Bipolar, Depression, Emotions, Life, Loss, Love, Mental Health, Mental Illness, Nightmares, Self, Society, Thoughts

Sometimes I fly away from the ground. I go up high above my body, above the clouds, and I see the Earth. I see the weather in the lower atmosphere… the distant glinting of sunlight on the surface of the ocean…

At other times… all I can see is a narrow circle resolving a tiny window of reality at the end of a long tube. Whipping and whirring around to expose the miniscule window to as much as possible.

This flagrant, caustic world we reside in coaxes out our demons and turns them loose with fast fingers and poorly conceived, later regretted, actions. Do you pride yourself in being full of demons waiting to escape and consume your opposition? Do you disappear into an irresolvable point of light amidst billions of others?

The way is unknown.

Ronk!

November 26, 2018 by ssnri in Creative Writing, Mental Illness, Rant and tagged Anxiety, Bipolar, Creative Writing, Emotions, Fiction, Images, Mental Health, Mental Illness, Nightmares, Poem, Poetry, Relationships, Self, Society

Ronk dorb gleb,

Magoomesh ho-hoonderhalb,

Nafreen ghnagnost wooneb.

Shafootz planderheeze–

Fnag enchoag,

Underpait, gurfchenk,

Narflaamanterpoontz.

Yet To Come

November 26, 2018 by ssnri in Mental Illness, Rant and tagged ADD, Anxiety, Bipolar, Creative Writing, Depression, Emotions, Introspection, Life, Love, Mental Health, Mental Illness, NAMI, Pride, Relationships, Sacramento, Self, Society, Thoughts, Volunteer

One of the conflicts I run into when attempting to communicate abstractly with others is perspective: each person I interact with has a different view of the “arc” of our trajectory as a society, and thus, a way of seeing things vastly contrary to my own. That disparity is a foreboding obstacle to honest discourse, and a defining gap in connection that is nearly always to vast to bridge. I have often found this cravase most abyssal with people I had intimate exposure to, since my traits and theirs were more entwined than in any other interaction (making comparison easy).

As I have become older, things have slowed down… the gravitational force which once had me anchored to exacting control of my reality has dramatically lessened. The resulting vacuum of “directing” force has accelerated my drift from the substantive microcosmic world of an incrementalized life.

Now, I’m left with the real quandary of making observations or comparisons that do not jive with others, or even occur as relevant. My thought processes are conclusively simple and based in a world of concrete moral contrasts and factually well-represented theories. That point also does not seem to be well understood by others.

Part of my liberation has come from not only the environmental reduction of gravity, but my own unclenching my vain attempt to control the uncontrollable, external world of others. Instead of expectation, I have thoughtful recalculation. I have no understanding of what is going to occur right up until it happens. Turns out, there is no advantage in prematurely and anxiously forecasting potential results to STILL be caught flat-footed in the eventuality of an outcome. That anxiety-train is just an indulgence of paranoia, and after enough times seeing that path lead to personal pain or failure, I have changed tracks.

Now, with that sense of existential detachment, one might expect disconnection from the cares of the societal world, if one’s moral compass points inwardly towards the self-satisfaction of narcissism. I care more, now, because even a little pile of moss is a miracle of reality in its own, clearly less impactful way. People are the ultimate gift, because there are no duplicates of the yet uncharted world of personalities, intellects, perspectives and experiences. We only get one chance to be here, to see, to breathe and be alive. Even in the most catastrophic suffering, there is still the curiously uncertain world of the unfurling, wind-snapped standard of time.

These–

November 24, 2018 by ssnri in Creative Writing, Mental Illness and tagged Bipolar, Creative Writing, Depression, Divorce, Dreams, Emotions, Life, Love, Mental Health, Mental Illness, Relationships, Self, Thoughts | 2 Comments

–etched cheeks, pitted in remembrance,

Parched terrains weathered,

Outward, dusted spectacles glint–

With prismed light of the dawn.

Course Change

November 21, 2018 by ssnri in Mental Illness, Rant, Status Updates and tagged Anxiety, Bipolar, Depression, Divorce, Dreams, Emotions, Family, Life, Loss, Love, Mental Health, Mental Illness, Relationships, Self, Society, Thoughts

I’ve decided to change therapists and go back to the one I had a rapport with in the past. I need to be challenged not placated, based on my current standing. ML has been much more useful to me in the past as an introspective coach which MB was not. I need advanced thought-level conversations about my mental state. I look forward to catching up and starting a new chapter with ML and jettisoning MB.

On the other hand, I still struggle to reconcile my feelings. I ache a bit with loneliness, but I also have a flare and passion for where I am now. I’m trying the dating site again, as indicated by my probe post. I have no investment in it honestly, other than it be a guide for others to be filtered through if applicable. So far, no one has survived the crucible of my derangement, as was expected. The standard has to be high because anything less is unsustainable.

Do you ever find yourself saying: “what the fuck am I doing right now?” I ask this of myself daily, as if it were something to be regularly challenged. Truth is I don’t check often enough. I still fall victim to the aches and agonies of the past. The palatable longing. It lingers, renews and ultimately, remains.

I also have little made up interactions in my head that never happened in real life because the voices inside my head are responsible. These exchanged are nonsensical at times and nearly always fictionalized in some pleasing way. There is no resolution to some past events, and that is a fate I have come to accept. The pain involved is unbearable at times, which might be why my wounds remain freshly agitated. I don’t think I’m alone in this predicament.

Well, things bloom promisingly on the horizon for me, while Critical Susan is murmuring foul things into my ear. It’s a world full of different voices saying what they need to say. Their overall impact is still, hopefully, mine to decide.

Spinny Brain

November 20, 2018 by ssnri in Mental Illness, Status Updates and tagged Anxiety, Bipolar, Depression, Emotions, Introspection, Mental Health, Mental Illness, Thoughts, Work | 2 Comments

An anxious thought starts like a marble at the top of a massive slope. At first, it’s not going all that fast, but quickly, it rockets to full downward acceleration.

I do have those thoughts, pretty much daily to some degree. The one that happened a few minutes ago was emblematic of the new trend of how I respond: I got the spinny brain and the downward went pretty fast… thinking about work. I started a chain reaction of colliding, exploding particles. Little fragments of shit were going everywhere and all looked lost.

Then, I stopped. I caught my breath, so to speak, and halted the descent with a fact. Then, I presented another indisputable fact which presented itself contrariwise as reasoning. The absence of truth does not necessitate the void be filled with something assumed. If the evidence isn’t there, it’s only really a story about what could potentially be. I presume the worst, but I honestly don’t know at all how it will go until I see the proof. Everything prior is just a speculation, and speculations likely or unlikely don’t weigh much more than the other on the cosmic scale. Unless I have some kind of super power, things largely out of my control are like to remain so.

How? Once the tunnel gets narrow, I pop my head up for a quick reality check. Perspective gives me a chance to see just how far my ass went down the rabbit hole. Usually. It’s not fool proof, but I’ve found the honesty of it provides the necessary grounding element to restore clarity. Indulging delusions is always, in some part, a conscious activity. When that is recognized allows for a change in behavior; contorting easy acceptance into a challenge of truth.

Everybody responds to things differently, just as Med A works great for me but made your toenails fall off. Med B makes my toenails fall off too, so now we can be in a club! Weee!

The air is starting to clear at last. My brain is sure to be working better soon!

Destination

November 20, 2018 by ssnri in Creative Writing, Mental Illness and tagged Anxiety, Bipolar, Creative Writing, Depression, Images, Life, Mental Health, Mental Illness, Poem, Poetry, Pride

Foggy eyes slatted against the East,

A burning shard of brilliant red,

Crisp as the scent of ground coffee–

Sparky like electric clothes,

Hissing seconds through the torporic cold.

#1605

November 18, 2018 by ssnri in Mental Illness, Status Updates and tagged Anxiety, Bipolar, Depression, Divorce, Emotions, Family, Introspection, Love, Marijuana, Mental Health, Mental Illness, NAMI, Relationships, Sacramento, Self, Volunteer, Work

Accomplished. There is a resounding, confident awareness of potential.

Still with symptoms today. Flashbacks. Old embers. Burning…

Laughter cures like a quick hit, but fades unless repeated.

I don’t know where I am yet.

The thread that still binds me to you across the ethereal plain grows increasingly thin, but I realize now, will never be gone.

Ed.

November 17, 2018 by ssnri in Mental Illness, Status Updates and tagged Anxiety, Bipolar, Depression, Dreams, Emotions, Family, Mental Health, Mental Illness, Nightmares, Society, Thoughts

A full day of training behind me, and one step closer to another employment qualification. Signature Program Leader… sounds pretty fucking real, eh? This accomplishment will undoubtedly take its place with myriad others to represent the structure of success I am erecting. All that LEGO training is paying off!!

I’ve changed in the past few years. Truly, the environmental variables and my own emphasis on progress have promoted my success (yes, there is many of success, just look at all these bricks). Even as I say that, I’m laying in bed exhausted. Each component of the structure that has contributed to where I am now has been difficult to set into usefulness. An arduous proposition, even. That’s why I know the foundation is strong; it was built with now calloused hands, thousands of hardened bricks and the inflexible rigidity of mortar.

Right now though, I’m tired, snarly and generally looking to push the power button until the screen shuts off. I’m all done for today. I would wager this is a familiar state for many who push themselves despite mental illness.

Tonight though, I hope I do not have troubling dreams. Visitations from the loves who are lost. Splintered memories of joy and agony. Mortal danger. Fire. Death. There aren’t many things I look forward to anymore, but uninterrupted, fulfilling, restful sleep is clearly high on that list. When maintaining mental stability is the concern, priorities change along with expectations.

Upon further reflection, I feel… integral. Zipper-like. I’m a part that would be missed if it were gone. I don’t have an incessant desire for self destructive behavior to combat regularly, so usefulness is a motivator instead of an antidote.

Basically, I’m satisfied being one of a select few who have any idea just how fantastic I am. I’m sorrowful that the number will be low, and companionship impossible, but my vivacious charisma will still infect this vulnerable world with unrelenting smart-assery, poignant sarcasm and deadpan, monotone responses that do not make any sense.

Gibbersplats

November 16, 2018 by ssnri in Mental Illness, Rant and tagged Bipolar, Depression, Dreams, Emotions, Loss, Love, Mental Health, Mental Illness, Nightmares, Relationships

I was accepted into a very selective training class to become a mentor for NAMI. This has occupational relevance as well as financial. One more step towards sustainability of independence.

A spark of direction! Purpose! The beacon attracting so promisingly in the echoing dark. It is incentive for a cause for living curiously. One never knows what is to come.

Speaking of echo… the vacillating barrier between what is pined for and what is happening continues to churn undecidedly. I have come to expect unrest as the new operating norm.

Living with uncertainty can be taxing, right?

I have terrible dreams. I see places, symbolic of present time and illusively representational of the past. Fire consumes my flesh as I die. The plummeting abyss beckons me forward, pulling me down with the incessant of gravity. Inching. These troubling portents cause dire warnings to sound out internally. The vividness of nightmares float up to momentary prominence because of the importance of the residual byproduct created by resetting the conscious mind, which provides them the necessary buoyancy to be remembered.

Gone. Gone. Gone. Gone… gone. Still I hold the thread tightly.

I haven’t seen her avatar since that night several days ago in that perplexing dream. Nothing absurd or skewered with context in the meantime. An ever pervasive fantasy to just to hear her words, know her thoughts. There is nothing. It is gone.

What will we learn when we can see far enough into the past to find out how it started? I mean, that in both a mentally local and literally cosmic sense. One day we will actually unveil the distant reaches of the past, but solely to learn a truth we had not known. One day I may be able to let go of my own reaches, for there is nothing more to be learned, and no path forward that begins there.

Blurp

November 16, 2018 by ssnri in Mental Illness and tagged Emotions, Introspection, Mental Health, Mental Illness, Self, Society, Thoughts

I think today is going to be better. I feel a little lighter. Not sure how I can articulate this effectively.

Where has our air gone? How long will we be made to breathe poison? It dampens.

The combustible transformation of carbon goes on: a reaction gone haywire now uncontrollably unlocking stored energy and expanding.

I think about the future of technology sometimes, and wonder if our declining living conditions will inspire technological advances that restore planetary health.

Processed

November 14, 2018 by ssnri in Mental Illness, Rant, Status Updates and tagged Anxiety, Bipolar, Depression, Emotions, Introspection, Love, Mental Health, Mental Illness, Relationships, Sex, Thoughts

If there’s any lesson to be learned from all the hashed and rehashed potato memories fried up on the blog it’s that cooking food too long burns the shit out of it until it is unrecognizable charcoal.

I’ve been writing things with frequency, and indulging my memories (however painful). I’m not trying to deduce anything, but endeavor to accept the things I can’t change.

How hard is it living in my current stasis of passive recognition? Clearly the tumultuous words which have come splattering out of the thought-faucet are evidence of the regurgitative, expressive process I’m ensnared in. There is no processing anything to resolution, only a realization which plateaus at unquestioning understanding.

I count almost two years in physical and mental isolation from companionship. In that time, I’ve realized that I may be alone for the rest of my life, which I am accepting of (but not okay with). How can one be satisfied in such an unrewarding and lonesome dynamic? I know I can’t be truly happy without that now vacant place inside me growing with love. It is a separate matter to both love and appreciate the self, but another matter entirely when someone else sees it too and flourishes with honest interest.

In my most callously logical of states, I doubt the height of the exacting standards by which my future relationships are to be held is a mark anyone would be interested in contorting over to achieve companionship (with someone like me). The bar must be impossibly high, because anything less is bound to half-life itself to oblivion or deposit the waste of resistant resentment into a chasm which widens as more is deposited.

No, there is only one path ahead: it is long, precarious and only wide enough for one it would seem.

Toxicity

November 14, 2018 by ssnri in Mental Illness, Photography, Status Updates and tagged Depression, Dreams, Emotions, Images, Mental Health, Mental Illness, Nightmares, Photography, Pictures, Self

The world is swimming in poison. Is it any wonder I have such conflicted states? The environment is a variable. That contribution is destructive.

I can’t blame the air. I don’t blame. There is only here, now. I have a chance to set on in a better direction. I’m learning, adapting. Change is constructive.

Many days under the shroud.

Two Night Terrors

November 14, 2018 by ssnri in Creative Writing, Mental Illness, Rant, Status Updates and tagged Anxiety, Bipolar, Creative Writing, Depression, Dreams, Emotions, Life, Mental Health, Mental Illness, Nightmares, Self, Thoughts

I was all nicely dressed, in this massive office building. It was clear that I had just given a presentation or something, and I was packing up and mingling With indistinguishable dream people. I was so distracted that I forgot my computer bag on the filing cabinet as I left.

I was walking out to the parking lot and a friend from high school (BD) ran out after me just to tell me I had forgot my bag, but when I looked back across the parking lot I was stunned…

In the night sky behind the hill and row of offices and houses, a red and orange glow was growing brighter. Then, towering, carnivorous flames emerged on the hill and rapidly began to descend. An unrealistically massive wall of consuming fire bore down in hunger.

I remember the wind. It was violent, tornado-like even. Houses were being ripped apart, glass was flying everywhere, debris was strewn on the ground. The fire devoured the city before me, and I ran in thinking I would go back for my computer. I did not make it out.

—

Poised on an odd carpet saddle-like bucket seat on the edge of a thousand foot drop over cities, towns and homes, I was somehow needing to move a collection of small objects to relative safety away from the perilous edge.

My hands were sipping with sweat, and I felt things could slip through my grasp and fall into the world below. The howling wind tore at me, begging me to fall to my death, pushing me with each insistent gust. There were people down there, lives, unaware of my situation.

My fingers and toes burned with nervous panic each and every second that my legs dangled freely over the immense expanse, and having so many things I needed to move back from the edge was an overwhelming concern. My hands were slipping and jittery. The computer tower was so big and heavy… how was I going to move this away when it was so close to falling? The wind kept pushing me closer, closer.

Exfoliate

November 13, 2018 by ssnri in Mental Illness, Rant, Status Updates and tagged Anxiety, Bipolar, Depression, Divorce, Dreams, Emotions, Family, Introspection, Life, Loss, Love, Mental Health, Mental Illness, Nightmares, Relationships, Self, Sex, Thoughts

All this revisiting of my past, and for what? It seems like an inherently counterproductive venture, but I assure you it’s not. Note that I don’t spend much time acutely regretting, chastising or otherwise reiterating failures. I must know now to then know better later on.

An irreconcilable divide. The constant gaping wound. Just one trigger unleashed a series of impassioned posts. I wasn’t expecting to go there, but I did, and gladly. I’ve had positive thoughts about the way I processed all these images and feelings.

The gain is strength from acceptance. The past goes on unchanging, but each new step carries the memories. How to address that effectively? I write. A lot. I write as much as it takes to exfoliate the brain meat.

I have tons of stupid fucking thoughts. Don’t you? It’s hard not to judge even though it’s my brain.

The consciousness glops like cold molasses out of a drippy faucet. There is no good time for brain. Only time.

In The Slush

November 13, 2018 by ssnri in Mental Illness, Rant, Status Updates and tagged Bipolar, Depression, Emotions, Introspection, Life, Loss, Love, Mental Health, Mental Illness, NAMI, Relationships, Self, Sex, Thoughts, Work

Tonight enacted, lather, rinse, repeat, repeat. Shabam-mode.

A grin to a nudge is just the friend of a glance to a raised eyebrow or some such.

The contrast between masks is shocking, dizzying at times. AAH!

All this stepping leads somewhere good, right? I don’t need to know, but it would make me happy if I did I suppose.

Like I said, blah blah send the fucking probe. No one out there in whatever market, nebula or quadrant gives a flippity-fuck about me and my stupid fucking probe.

I have to try a little, that seemed inexcusable in light of bemoaning the state. Right?

Glancing is not trying. Glancing is trying to trick sorrow into having hope, while choking out any chance of there being any.

Probe 1a

November 12, 2018 by ssnri in Creative Writing, Mental Illness, Status Updates and tagged Anxiety, Bipolar, Creative Writing, Depression, Emotions, Introspection, Life, Love, Mental Health, Mental Illness, Relationships, Self, Sex, Society, Thoughts

As requested by High Command, we have fired a scientific research probe off to study the anomaly.

The probe will take a long time to fully study the area, and we do not expect to hear back from it for many days or longer.

However, Commander, we are fulfilling the NEW Prime Directive to always venture out into the furthest reaches of explored space, and find what unknown mysteries lie in the darkness beyond our current perception.

Previous probes that have been sent to existing systems for additional study/analysis have been decommissioned at your request, and all forward facing starships are to send their probes to the outer limits.

This update has been brought to you by: Uncontaminated Dirt. “You never knew how much you needed it, until you didn’t have it,” they say. Get some Uncontaminated Dirt at your local starbase or stable M class planet today!

Unforgettable

November 11, 2018 by ssnri in Mental Illness, Status Updates and tagged Anxiety, Bipolar, Creative Writing, Depression, Divorce, Dreams, Emotions, Family, Life, Loss, Love, Mental Health, Mental Illness, Pride, Relationships, Self, Sex, Thoughts

Seeing her shifting through the periphery of my attention, she radiated warm waves of indulgent excitement as we drove. I snared infrequent glimpses of the smooth cheeked beauty, flashing and vanishing erratically in the sulfuric light of the passing street lamps. Ringing and abounding with jubilant laughter, she sighed, and held out a slow burning ember from within; about to be set ablaze by a gust of cool, fresh air. The curl of her grin was laden with intent, desire and a sense of belonging despite the circumstance of being apart and constrained. Though, that was no barrier for her.

Her intent, a crackling wave of incendiary heat, sending tinder sparking and popping to tiny burning pieces… vanishing into the night sky. Smooth, wet, and eager, there were no bounds to her, no ties that could shackle her in place; no star that could outshine her glimmering brightness.

Where the world was, or what it was doing no longer mattered; what remained in the bristling atmosphere between us was a transcendent state of acceptance and acknowledgement. We saw each other briefly, and in that mutual space where our desires met, there was profound togetherness.

But even as this tempering realization was present, the electric spark of her youth, curiosity, fearlessness and desire became the direction of her hasty actions. In boundless, oblivious ecstasy, there was no time that was not ours, no boundary we could not cross together, no one else in the world who mattered… no fire like the one that was in her eyes she she beheld me. Though, beset by my own limiting discretionary conservation, it was not out of disapproval for her that we returned to the world… and this I hope she knew.

There were times that I saw her, and many more in which I could not, or failed to. Where was the objectivity I needed then… was it always there but undeveloped? I contemplate my journey, drawing no needless conclusions and refusing to sully beautiful recollections with my frustrations, failures and ineptly accepted concessions.

…Flickering light, casting those brief shadows across her curves, her frisky hair… and the recognition of such beautiful physical harmony that we shared.

Deep in past moments such as these, where I still see her smiling, I know that life has blessed me with memories I will never forget. They resound poignantly, which I cherish, for the many feelings of her love are not unknown or forgotten, but remembered forever. It was a time when I touched happiness, held it even… if not to eventually let it slip away. The nights we had, like the memory above, remind me of how wonderful the world can be. Even if I do not live this life now, I still hold my experiences as the most valuable, formative and essential knowledge of my journey thus far. Without them, I would not know the spectrum of all there is to experience while being alive.

Incinerate

November 10, 2018 by ssnri in Creative Writing, Mental Illness, Status Updates and tagged Anxiety, Bipolar, Creative Writing, Depression, Divorce, Emotions, Images, Introspection, Life, Loss, Love, Mental Health, Mental Illness, Nightmares, Poem, Poetry, Relationships, Self, Thoughts

Creaky hollowed and bone-dry,

Brittle stuck to twisted agonies,

Piling through the seasons–

Combustibly warped in crisped gapes.

Scowling shift hisses an unloading–

Cast of up leaves and old tinder,

Snicker-snapped with a snarly pop.

Bored moments and crumpled memories,

Transformed in a rush–

To pillowy piles,

Refined, but still–

Nourishing roots.

Birdy Letter Revisited

November 10, 2018 by ssnri in Mental Illness, Rant, Status Updates and tagged Anxiety, Bipolar, Depression, Divorce, Dreams, Emotions, Family, Introspection, Life, Loss, Love, Medications, Mental Health, Mental Illness, Nightmares, Relationships, Self, Sex, Suicide, Thoughts, Work

A letter I have written before, but write again as the clarity improves to the benefit of my understanding. For my heart, for my mind, these words are sent:

Dear Birdy,

There seem to be no words that can be said to bridge the span that lies between us, but I am nevertheless compelled by my conscience to send these words out into the expanse as a mark of my intent, truth and the desire of my heart to be at peace:

In my life, I have transitioned from state to state, trying to achieve stability with my mental illness since I was diagnosed. In my right, back when we first met, I lured you unknowingly into that turbulent dynamic and you were destroyed by it in many ways because of my inability to prepare you for it. I did not adequately equip you for how to respond to my mental illness effectively, nor did I remotely or appropriately respond to yours when you called out for help.

I remember in the truck one evening with you coming home from my parent’s RV. I was stoned and you were a bit tipsy. You remembered a trauma about your old best friend and I was chastising you for thinking about something from the past, like it wasn’t important because it had already happened. I think back on how you were hurting that night, with tears in your eyes, and it breaks my heart. You were calling out to be comforted, and I just argued with you, scolded you. I was not able to see the way to hear your pain, and acknowledge your trauma, or even to comfort you when you are feeling vulnerable. I failed then. I know it, and I accept that I must grow to do better. I am sorry for this time, and the many others like it.

I did not have the tools to communicate effectively with you or express my feelings to you appropriately. I was not able to help you, when you needed a partner, a friend, someone to trust. This disparity and neglect is my greatest regret, for the beautiful person you are was hidden by my inability to see you, address your feelings, and be the partner you needed me to be. I was not a healthy person and did not deal with my issues in a functional, sustainable way in the time that we knew each other. I lied to you, hid things from you, and never told you how I felt inside. The lesson of my inability to sustain our relationship has taught me the skills I needed to survive further calamity and caused me to regret the missed opportunity to have done better with the woman I loved more than any other.

I am responsible for harming you, abusing you mentally, psychologically… because of my unchecked disorder and poor coping skills. My sanity was not consistent, and I was reeling in the end, compensating poorly, neglecting frequently. I have a great deal of ongoing shame over this which keeps me thinking about how I can be a better communicator in my future interactions. I was not the person I needed to be to have properly participated in a relationship, and for all the damage that caused to you, I am sorry. With a pain that I feel every day, I am sorry for what happened between us. I have never been over it.

There is no word, or words that can take away the trauma, the pain. I must bear that responsibility forever. I have done what I can to learn and listen or try to. I am accepting of my part, but only hoping to release the emotional burden by the recognition of spoken, actualized thoughts. For all the times these powerful words and memories have been whispered between my ears, I give them back to the endless void, echoing on into the silence: thank you.

Blaaaaaaaaah…

November 9, 2018 by ssnri in Creative Writing, Mental Illness, Status Updates and tagged Anxiety, Bipolar, Depression, Emotions, Family, Life, Mental Health, Mental Illness, Self, Thoughts, Work

Things are cardboard for now. Mush.

There are blips, pings and peaks aplenty… but the gaps are sloping.

I’m starting to entertain, but where the balance lies is still a matter for discovery.

Not many words are here now, mostly just growling or grunting.

Some are friend… well, most are friend.

Where is the poof and rabbit? I have no rabbit and by God do I need the poof.

	Passport Overused on Metaphortastic
	ssnri on Yearning to Absolve
	Passport Overused on Yearning to Absolve
	carasmom1979 on Going
	carasmom1979 on Upbeat
	carasmom1979 on Long-Distance
	ssnri on Vault
	Passport Overused on Vault
	ssnri on Trials Ended
	Thebipolarclown on Trials Ended
	gsethi2409 on Stargazer
	ssnri on Stargazer
	gsethi2409 on Stargazer
	ssnri on These–
	the #1 Itinerary on These–

Mood Album: Emo-Slave Resurrection v. 2 (Night Guy Edition)

Mood Album (v. 3): Splattercake Conjunctivitis

Length: 74 minutes

Mood Album (v. 2): Spatulas & Bandaids

Length: 73 minutes

Mood Album (v. 1): Deflatacated Marshmallow

Length: 77 Minutes

Album: Spatulas & Bandaids

Length: 73 minutes

Album: Deflatacated Marshmallow Length: 77 Minutes

Album: Deflatacated Marshmallow
Length: 77 Minutes