These ups and downs are enough to drive a person crazy. Thats the thought thats running constantly in my head. Everytime i feel like i have reached a point where there is hope it is snatched away from me, gone like the wind. Because of that the hope i feel now i am grasping onto tightly, while also not expecting it to last any amount of time that could be helpful to me. Its such a ridiculous, repetitive circle. but i guess i should be grateful that it is in fact a circle and not just a straight line. Besides being boring a straight line would mean no hope at all, or very little with mediocrity being the ground i stand on. This thought, or acknowledgement of my nature brings me to an interesting conclusion. If i had a choice would i choose to be mentally ill, and wrestle these demons everyday while being given this sometimes maddening gift of creativity? Or would i choose to be “normal”, a straight line with peaks and valleys not so extreme all the while being without creativity? Some days are harder than others thats for sure, and no matter what or who you are life has its ups and downs. I know this. But really, if i had a choice what would i choose? Right now i want to say that i would choose to be creative and struggle like i am. But would i feel this way on a different day? Will i feel this way tomorrow? What about next time I’m having a horrible day, would i choose it then? Its not an easy answer. I guess expecting it to be would be an exercise in futility. Im not sure I’m making the right choice, but i think what matters is that i feel like I’m making the best choice right now. I am unable to see another way about it. So really all that does is continue these crazy ups and downs, but makes me feel good in the moment. And its not like drugs or drinking, I’m not going to have a hangover after having a good day. So, here i sit, belly full of cinnamon waffles (my favorite), sipping on dr.pepper as i type these words. Im comfortable, one could almost say i feel good. I know this feeling won’t last but nothing lasts forever, thats just life. Im going to continue to take photos and write today as i please, because it makes me feel good. Or atleast comfortable in the moment, like when i snap the shutter on my camera or i type a sentence onto this screen. In those brief moments i am myself, without all of the bad that entangles my soul. I am free. Free to let my creativity flow and just ride the wave. Fuck the eventual crash. Maybe after all is said and done ill have learned something from this ephemeral changing of the tides? It is a natural process, atleast to me, much more than simply something iv learned to live with. Maybe i will have grown. Thats hope, is it not?
Are you there, Hope?
Maybe theres hope. Maybe there is STILL some hope left, even after everything? Maybe i CAN do this. Become a functioning member of society. A functioning member of society who has his daughter. And with hope ,that Daughter knows in her heart that no matter what, her father loves her more than he loves the world, stars and all. That she knows her Daddy would do anything for her, at anytime. Go to the ends of the earth and back if only to put a smile on her face. O to be called “Daddy” again, by my little girl. Nothing else would matter. Nothing else does matter. Maybe one day my hears will be graced with the most beautiful, wondrous, cosmically enchanting sound i have ever heard in all of my life, Her laughter. Why cannot i not just pull it all together and be as strong as SHE needs me to be? NOW. Why not? It truly is THE one thing i want the most when i think about my life and eventual death. I struggle, so deeply disturbed that i forget to eat. For days. What scares me is the notion that I’m already too far gone to ever be anything to that little girl again. This, as i find myself daily frantically pacing the house while thinking, worrying. Why have i not yet been able to put the pieces of myself back together to even form half the man i was? Even a quarter of the man i once was? She needs me and i am not there. Thats the bottom line. In the future it’s not going to matter the reason (bullshit) she was kidnapped from her life with me, what will matter is the time i was or wasn’t there. I can’t and i do not expect her to ever understand why or how this was able to happen. Because lets face it, if i was stronger- It never would have happened. Of course there are a number of circumstances that helped it happen, and the same number of reasons it shouldn’t have happened. But it did. Thats what will be remembered years from now. It won’t be the truth, that “mommy” is keeping her own daughter from her loving father because she doesn’t agree with the way i live my life, and because she is vengeful, spiteful, and feels like she needs to hurt me. The depth of this person’s morality is absolutely staggering, physically staggering when it is realized. Whats even crazier is the system that not only feeds into this type of behavior, but fosters it time and time again. Im not the only Dad this has or is happening to. I know that. But this is my Daughter’s life this is happening to. Therefore it is the single most important thing in my life. I feel myself becoming angry with hope, and its fleeting nature (atleast for me currently). There was a time, a time long ago, that i was so adept at turning all of my pain, anger, and sadness into motivation that the fire which burned inside me was immeasurable, it was truly something special. For some time there was nothing that could dim that fire, and life was great. I truly excelled at everything i did and i knew without a doubt that anything was possible. I was a well known member in a certain community. known for not just my high skill level, but for my personality. The dirt and rubble around me only strengthened me. I was once told by a great friend “James, everything you touch turns to gold”. And that wasn’t far off, at all. If i wanted to accomplish something i just did it. It didn’t matter what it was. i didn’t even understand how i did these things. The only thing i knew was that i consciously converted all of my pain, anger, and sadness into rage, than converted that rage into a will made not of iron, but of a thing so strong and powerful it was awe inspiring. I helped a lot of other kids, my attitude helped many many children (BMXers mostly but not inclusively). I do hate talking about myself in a good light, i just feel i don’t deserve it. But my point is that i am trying, struggling so deeply to find this process within myself that converts pain into motivation. The process that i worked many, many sad years building until it became an automatic response to pain. I didn’t have to “try” to do it anymore, i did that for so long it became “second nature” (even though i proclaim first). And no matter how hard i try or where i look, i cannot find this again. Sometimes i think i feel a remnant of it. It always comes on with such tremendous force that i am rocked to my absolute core .But like hope it is fleeting, it lasts for maybe one second if i were somehow able to “time” it, these events. And thats being hopeful. I have zero doubts when it comes to what this power is capable of. Call it simple inspiration or motivation if you will, but for me it’s much mightier. I know with truth that if i am able to grab ahold of this, and learn how to do it again that there would be nothing i couldn’t accomplish. And what do i want the most? To be a great Father to my Baby Girl, to have one another in each of our lives; For her to know that the most important thing that has ever been and will ever be is her happiness and well being. As if time only exists to prove the deep bonds of love. I cry and cry, knowing that currently I’m about as strong as a turd. Im reduced to a walking and sometimes talking void that is rimmed with pain, torment, and suffering. Short of pulling the plug on my life i can only hope that someday, somehow, she will know the depths of my love for her. Maybe it will make her smile. Just that would be enough for me to be done. I hold out, limping to and fro while constantly feeling like i am forgetting something very important, like dread rising up in me like steam rises in a kitchen. I hold out in HOPE that i will put it and myself together and be the strong father that my darling deserves. That maybe one day i will be there for her, and she shall know it, the same way nothing else can be known as surely as death. Im collecting these glimmers of hope, may they be seeds planted in my soul upon which the strongest tree of all time shall grow, one that brings us together, one that is Pure love.
Every Man’s Frankenstein
When a man’s supposed “reason for living” is taken away he morphs into an entirely different creature. Yes, much is lost within himself. But what was lost, was so deep, so intrinsic to his nature that it becomes paramount this void is filled. He has nothing left to fill it with but pain, grief, anxiety. That pain, dwelling deep inside of him festers, rots, grows. It becomes something else entirely. That pain worms it’s way through his mind until it escapes, and manifests itself physically. Not only is the man forever wounded, perpetually chasing the love he will never have, he is unrecognizable. He, himself cannot even recognize this new creature, it seems as if it is a foreign entity entirely. But rationality kicks in, hard. And this man comes to understand that this new, horribly tortured creature is himself. It is him, who bears the pain of a love lost. What a wretched creature. A creature that has had it’s soul ripped out, skinned away. Then there, in the darkest shadow he lies, in the fetal position, a cursed, naked creature unable to love or defend himself. Forever doomed to chase the love he screams out for and will never receive.
From Needle To Heartbreak
Why do i continually feel the need to take unnecessarily dangerous chances? In the early AM, when its dark outside but morning traffic is going crazy theres me on my bike. Im riding to the clinic, every morning. I can’t see shit, my vision is horrible even during daylight. Im supposed to wear glasses but when they broke over a year ago they just never got fixed. Procrastination- but thats another story. So every morning on my way to the clinic i come up to the main road. And it is crazy. People half asleep doing 80 miles an hour, changing lanes, running lights. I always stop right at the start of the crosswalk on the sidewalk. Literally i could reach out and hit the button to turn the lights red to give the the “ok signal” to cross. But i never do this. Haven’t done it once! I just wait until i think i see a gap in traffic and then haul ass. This is so incredibly dangerous not only because of my horrible vision but also because of people driving with their lights off (i definitely wouldn’t see), changing lanes, speeders, you get it. Im still alive so obviously my horrible vision and i guess somewhat decent senses haven’t failed me yet. But thats the thing. Why do i take such a risk EVERY morning when i do not have to? I don’t get a thrill out of it. Trust me on that one. I just do it because i don’t want to wait. One error in my judgement and I’m dead. Seriously. Such sever consequences weight this action so heavily yet i throw the decision to do it around like its a piece of trash. This morning was the closest. I misjudged the speed at which someone was going in their car and almost became a huge mess for the emergency services to clean up. Im telling you it was close. The most fucked up part of it is that i know how close i came to annihilation and it didn’t faze me, not at all. I kept pedaling along thinking about whatever the fuck i was thinking about before. I did just about the same thing yesterday and ill do the same thing tomorrow. I really feel that if i do not stop this stupidity right now that my days are numbered, that any day now i will leave my house and just never come back. Just another bicyclist killed on the roadway. And not only that, i will be “just another junkie killed on the roadway while going to get drugs”. Thats what the cops and emts will able it for sure. They don’t know what methadone is. They don’t know what methadone maintenance therapy is. And they don’t care. “Well he got what he deserved” i can just hear one of them saying now as my body lie in pieces and red streaks across the roadway. They think methadone treatment is me going to the corner in the morning and buying dope off a drug dealer but its legal. They don’t know that iv been clean for around seven years BECAUSE of the methadone clinic. They don’t know that this clinic has more than likely saved me from overdosing, and countless others too! I dutifully ride my bike to the clinic EVERY morning at 6am not because i want to. Not because it feels good. Not because i get “high” or feel any euphoria for that matter. I do it because i HAVE to. If i don’t my life unravels at a sickening pace then i am a junkie again. No way. Not me. THATS why i ride to the clinic every morning. But getting back to my point- i really should stop taking this absolutely unnecessary risk every morning by just rebel running it across the road and stop to hit the crosswalk button on the pole. Im sure after i hit the button it would only be a minute or so of waiting and id be able to cross IN the crosswalk WHEN I’m supposed to. Sure i could still get mowed down by a sleepy driver running a light but my odds are a lot better. I stand to survive longer by doing it the right way. So why the fuck do i keep doing this? Every morning as i hop onto my bike and start riding i tell myself that today I’m gonna do the right thing and wait for my turn to cross. And everyday i get to the light and as soon as i see the first break in traffic i just go. It is so incredibly dangerous, especially when coupled with my horrible vision and lack of much needed prescription glasses. If i got a rush from this practice i would understand why i do it and have an easier time stopping it. But i don’t get a rush. I feel nothing but thankful i didn’t have to sit idly at the light and wait for my turn. Whats the rush? Im only headed home, and theres no rush at home. I don’t have my daughter, no need to hurry home. But thats it right there, thats the answer, the reason why i keep doing this. Its because i do not have my daughter and without her i can’t find much of a reason to live. I tell myself till I’m blue in the face that ill get her back when I’m older, that she knows how much i love her and miss her, that she knows I’m fighting for her. But the pain of not having her and the initial stab of pain from when she was taken has left a wound in me something serious. Its at these times when i toy with my life so carelessly that i realize how much pain I’m really in. Strength comes from failing, this i know very well. But what happens when you fall so hard you lose something fundamental? Something that when lost never returns and changes you forever? I don’t know. Always I’ve got two separate doctor’s appointments today so it stands to be a spectacular day! That exclamation point did not hype me up like i needed it to lol. But maybe with these doctor visits today i will gain some understanding of how to get better. Thats the goal isn’t it? If not to get better than atleast to understand one’s self a little bit better. Maybe even realization and utilization of tools. Cant be a bad thing. Im just gonna hope i stop taking this unnecessary risk every morning as soon as possible. If i don’t i guess my words will no longer stain these pages, but the other stain i could become makes me shudder.
F U A.N.X.I.E.T.Y.
It takes so much energy to be nervous all the time. Its just a constant, energy-draining battle that seems uphill. Im tired. Tired of fighting. It seems like everything in my life i fight for, and I’m always fighting myself. Tasks that are small and normal to the average person, tasks that they do everyday without even thinking about- In my life even those tasks are extremely difficult. Basically what I’m saying is i try so hard to take care of myself everyday and i always fall short on my goals. And these are not lofty goals i mind you. Things like drinking water (or any fluid), eating, taking a shower. My capacity to do these things at a level where I’m not constantly physically ill from my inability to do them is sub-par to put it nicely. Somehow, sometime, and some way these simple, everyday vital tasks became almost monumental tasks to me. Did it happen all at once? Or did time erode my ability? I obviously have awareness but i do feel its not at a level that coincides with reality. Its like my awareness is turned down quite a bit. I don’t realize how thirsty or hungry i am until i have completely deprived myself of food or drink to the point where i fall physically ill because of it. Like not drinking one small bottle of water in days. Or realizing the reason i have absolutely no energy at all and my thinking is all fucked up is because all i have eaten for the last few days were some pieces of candy and maybe an egg. It does scare me, that disconnect between myself and……..myself, or reality. I guess i should feel grateful and lucky that i am atleast somewhat aware of the problem. But usually the awareness doesn’t come until i am so weak that getting out of bed and walking to the kitchen is a HUGE task that requires every shred of energy i have. Nine times out of ten i stand up and fall right back down into a miserable heap on the floor. THEN i realize i haven’t eaten a meal or barely drank anything for days. And as i lay there and think back of the last few days, they are all a blur. Just one long day. Im not helpless though, I’m not crying about this. I work on it everyday. But thats what scares me the most. The fact that i continue to put massive amounts of real energy into working on these problems and at best i am getting better, but in minuscule amounts. Amounts too small to be realized by another person. This i have learned. Half of me wants to just give myself some slack and tell myself that everything is ok and I’m on the right track, I’m slowly getting better. But the other half of me screams out in desperation and anger. Im SICK of giving myself chances. Knowing i have been afforded more chances than most and i seemingly squandered them. Atleast thats how it looks to anyone watching. In actuality my mental illness has prevented me. But knowing this doesn’t make it any less frustrating. Maybe I’m just having a bad day. I almost laugh at myself for being such an emotional being. Embracing that emotional being, now thats the real trick. The page turner. THAT is the comeback story everyone loves to hear about. But damn is it hard to hold onto motivation and just plain energy when you don’t love yourself. impossible? I don’t think so. And with any luck i shall come upon the answer to that question. Ignorance is bliss, but feeling like your head has been stuck in the sand for so long, thats hell.
Growth…?
Again last night i was hit with an intense wave of……not fear, not paranoia, but change. Like before a big wave is headed your way and all the water gets sucked way back into the surf, thats how this felt. So instead ion wondering what it was or being scared of it i channeled it. I did the only thing i knew how to do and it felt great, surprisingly great. I grabbed a clipboard with a blank sheet of paper on it and started writing. At first my writing was all over the place. But as time went on it became more refined, sharpened. I basically wrote myself a motivational letter. And in this letter it described a man who knows pain, loses, and constant torment. But this man was able to channel all of that pain into words and characters and stories. There was talk of books, novels, fiction……there was a lot of talk. But in the end the man is victorius over his deep seated demons. He writes what he knows. All the pain and sadness transformed into books that sold. Books that people liked to read. Surprisingly fiction books. Not so surprisingly horror, because again, thats what he knew well. I have been to hell. I have felt such constant torment that death really did seem like a much better option than continuing with the deafening madness. I lost everything, and i mean EVERYTHING, when my daughter was taken from me. All this time iv been so sick with self doubt that i honestly thought my life was over, that it was on its “slope down”. i had grown to accept that. But last night i realized its not over. Its actually just beginning, just forming. I will write, i will read, and i will write some more. I will write until i am able to write full fiction novels. I have always wanted to do this, since i was about 12. They always say write what you know, and thats what struck me most last night. I know of a pain so searing, a torment so relentless that its almost impossible to describe. Very few people have felt this before, that i am very grateful for. I cry tears of compassion because it makes me so happy to know most people don’t feel what iv felt. Seriously. Now that puts me in a unique perspective. Iv experienced something very few will. So i need to use that pain and torture to light a fire of motivation within myself and set the whole world ablaze, My world (to make you more comfortable). I will learn different methods of writing and acting and combine this new found knowledge with said pain, and a better writing ability. Its a recipe for success. Iv done it before. Ill do it again. I did it with bmx riding and motorcycle riding. I reached levels few do. Im going to do it again, this time with writing. Maybe this is the change i wrote about the other day that i felt coming? Im going to act like i know it is and run with it. I really don’t see where it could land me wrong. So what if i never acquire even mediocre writing skills and i write a book that sells 2 copies? Ill feel better because i tried. Ill feel better because i used my pain for something instead of letting it use me. One thing became very clear last night though- i need a laptop. Right now i am writing on a big desktop computer. Its a great computer, i do not fault it. But writing is all about feeling. A laptop gives me that certain feeling, like i have a personal notebook i can write anything in, that i can compose great stories in. Writing by hand i can’t seem to get the words out fast enough so i end up with writing half as much and handwriting so bad its unreadable. With a keyboard I’m able to type fast enough to let the words flow with minimal trip up. Like the words cascade out from me but if I’m not quick enough one gets stuck, and then like a traffic jam every thought and word after is jammed up. It stops the flow with surprising speed. So today i begin. With any luck at all ill look back at this day (and last night) and realize thats the day i put it all together. Maybe not ALL, but put enough of it together to not live in constant torment, and to not be idle and let the torment consume me. Im turning it around, I’m using the torment. One thing i know without a doubt in this world is that pain burns like rocket fuel when used in the correct manner, when pointed in the right direction and focused on something. Pain used to not cause pain, but to cause change and progress within one’s self. Ill keep writing on this site, I love it. Maybe it was just the kick i needed to get rolling? Seems so. But these kinds of thing are like a “perfect storm”, it takes many things happening all at once to produce such a feeling of motivation. Goals. So today i research different methods of writing. Even of acting, it will all help. And today i write more than i did yesterday. Ill start there and see how it goes. Maybe this is good, maybe its bad, i don’t really know. But it surely does FEEL Great.
It started last night, creeping up on me as i watched one of my favorite shows. Then this morning its hitting me full force and i can’t shake it. Its a feeling, almost overwhelming feeling, that I’m on the verge of change or really a transformation. I feel fear. But behind that veil of fear i think i sense exhilaration. Actually i don’t think, i know. As an amazing soul that was taken to soon from this world used to say- ” I can feel it in my bones, and bones don’t lie”. What is this change, this great transformation? I guess for any other person they would be excited, ready. But because i know that i struggle with mental illness and an abrupt feeling like this can lead to disaster i am fearful. Im split in two. one part of me says fuck it, take the chance, feel the exhilaration, be the change. The other part of me says relax and hunker down because the hurricane thats coming is going to be disastrous. Im literally torn. What to do? Who do you listen to when you know you can’t fully trust yourself and your own feelings? This change feels big. Its actually exciting. But again, such a drastic flip in emotions can be a sign of a real disaster for me and my mental health. I can almost feel it going either way. I don’t know what to do. Do i call my doctor even though i don’t have the money to see him? Do i just try to stay calm and refrain from anything out of my ordinary? Or do i embrace it, and feel the freedom and exhilaration of running with it? It feel like a drastic change in the way i am. Now i know one is needed in my life, but all at once? Im not even sure i can handle that. Maybe i can, maybe i can’t. Going for it could mean a renewed and better me, or it could mean a trip to hell and a stay at a psychiatric ward. What to do what to do. Honestly I’m at the point where iv been so down lately that I’m about to just run with it, let it carry me away to the hopefully transformed or progressed Jim. A change for the better is Way past due in my life. I know this with surety, as do others. If i was a bit younger and not struggling with mental health so much there would be no question, i would take it and run with it. Iv done it in the past to mostly good outcomes. But i was younger, less depressed. I wasn’t struggling with my mental health as seriously as i am now. I also had the energy, mentally, emotionally, physiologically, and even felt it physically. I am worn down right now, pretty fresh off of a very serious mental breakdown where me and reality didn’t agree for a while. Like some people can feel a drop in the barometric pressure, just barely a feeling in the back of their mind. Thats how i feel this change coming. Ill admit it, i am scared. But i am just as ready and happy for a change. Its crazy. hard to decipher. Should i do what iv done when i was a bit younger (with great results) and run with it? Or should i hunker down for a storm, knowing that I’m fresh off break from reality? Decisions decisions. The only thing i can say for sure right now is that i will resolve to keep writing and taking photographs, because i deeply enjoy both activities. Even through the fear i feel enjoyment from framing photos and throwing words around. Anyone else ever been in a similar situation? Any advice? I don’t feel it but i know it- i am in desperate need of advice. I really don’t have anyone to talk to. Even if i called my psychiatrist it would be maybe 15 minutes and a change in medication. But maybe thats whats needed because i am in fact headed for disaster. But damn it does feel good to make a stand and just run with it, letting this (thing, force of nature) happen and seeing where i end up? Last time this happened it was very bad, but it also took longer to get to this point. Evertime this has happened before the last time it has mostly resulted in a positive change in me, although a large one, and almost instantaneously (like it feels now). This is happening, and its happening quickly. If the bottom drops out again and I’m lost i fear i may never make it back. I barely made it back last time. But damn to say i desperately need a change is an understatement. But a change for the better, i couldn’t handle a change for the worst. Im still battered and bruised from this last change (disaster). I guess i could go back and forth all day. Keep it simple- stick to taking photos and writing and no huge deviations from my normal life. The only problem is that since my last breakdown my “normal life” hasn’t been so good. Yes I’m getting better but no doubt i am worst than before. The ground i stand on is shaking, will i run uphill and be better because of it or will the ground be washed away from under my feet and i go down even further? They say in AA meeting KISS- Keep It Simple Stupid. But when they say that it applies to using, getting high. I don’t feel like getting high. At all. Thats not what this is. And i assure you i can tell the difference. Im not struggling with the idea of using, I’m struggling with the idea of such a quick and powerful change. This is change. It could go either way i guess. Shall i roll the dice? Or try to use my faulty brain??
Such is Life (Humility)
Ahh life. I just had some big, long post written that i thought sounded reasonably well…….then my computer crashed. Of course i didn’t save my work before this happened, i was too busy writing ‘caught in the moment’. I honestly don’t have the energy to write it again at the current time. I know that sounds like such a cop-out, and i guess it is. But today i am humbled. Sometimes your best plans can go wrong no matter what, and they can go wrong in any way. And when they do, it always happens in a flash. Gone in an instant. Of course I’m angry. But thats something i need to work on (and another post) so I’m just going to say “Thank you, Computer, For humbling me this morning”. “Thank you for yet again showing me that plans can change in an instant, LIFE can change in an instant”. I am grateful for where i am today. Things could be so so much worse, and they have been. So i guess this morning the person upstairs decided i needed to be reminded of my…..futility, OR reminded of just how small i am, For better or for worse. Things change in an instant and its either going to be for better or for worse, thats a 50/50 shot- pretty good in my book. I guess this morning the glass is half full, albeit with a lot less words in it.
Cursed air, Crazies, & Wal-Mart
As the air from the air mattress whistles out at a maddening speed i look up and start cursing. “What the fuck!!!” and “Why ME?!!!!” are the main points of focus. I am angry. i went to sit on my bed (air mattress) and it popped right on a seam. Its less than a week old. Am i forever destined to sleep on the concrete? Why is this so i ask (scream at top of lungs) myself aloud. Then i remember, its because I’m fucking crazy. Or to put it another way “i struggle with mental health so i am not able to take care of myself like i know i should”. Doesn’t even make sense but its the truth. Nothing but. But luckily i was able to finagle a ride to Walmart where i angrily dropped the popped pile of air mattress on the counter right next to the new one i was exchanging it for. The process went quick and smooth with no other questions besides “how are you tonight?'” from an employee. As i told her i was fine I’m sure she knew i wasn’t, my angrily contorted face giving me away. Bastard face. Just once can you not give away my inner turmoil? I think the main reason for the speed at which the exchange went was because of the line at customer service, now stretching across seriously into the clothing department (and building). But now that i think about it the speed of the return was most likely caused by the angry, disheveled, mentally ill man covered in white caulk and glue snorting heavily and looking like he was about to go on a spree (not shopping..) standing in front of the employee doing the return. I laugh to myself now. What a sight that must have been. Whats even funnier is that in this part of town i almost fit in. If i were in the town i had just moved from i would have had security up my ass the moment the shopping cart i was dragging behind me slammed into the side of the entrance doors, with me cursing aloud about the speed of the automatic door movement. They would have had a fucking field day with me if you also remember i was covered in a white, glue -like substance and i had long, dirty hair flying everywhere from the blast of the AC you are hit with upon entering the store. hahaha I can picture it now in the local newspaper (in my old town full of mostly non-poor people)- “local insane man covered in white, sticky substance shouting at the top of his lungs had to be tazered by police late last night at the local Wal-Mart as onlookers gasped and some fled for safer aisles”. Luckily that story is not in today’s paper. But honestly if it was i would laugh just as hard, probably even harder, even though id be hog tied on a cold concrete floor in jail with not a soul coming near “the crazy white boy”. So this writing being proof that everything went smoothly. I came home, (still cursing about something though), and immediately plugged the new air mattress in and fired it up. It has a built in pump. I don’t fill it with as much air as i had the last one, hoping that maybe i had it over-filled and THAT put extra stress on the seam, thus causing the explosion of air, curse words, and sanity. Only time will tell. Im really hoping this one lasts longer than 5 days because once this one goes its the concrete floor for me. And i don’t need to complain about how painful it is to sleep on a concrete floor overnight, you can figure it out. Also factor in that i have broken most of the bones in my body (including my back and sternum) racing motorcycles as a youngster and you can imagine the pain a concrete bed provides. Good news is that the mattress held, atleast for one night. i didn’t sleep very well because i was so worked up over the evening’s events that i layed awake most of the night tossing and turning. But i laid awake tossing and turning very comfortably. Im grateful for that. So with my tantrum behind me and my three quarters of the way inflated bed (i don’t want to stress it, it could pop) staring at me i feel a bit better. I can be so childish that it regularly blows my mind. But the clock moves forward, as usual, and I’m grateful for that also. Now On another note- I read posts on here from people who are down on themselves and thinking of how much better they could be doing but aren’t. Whats interesting is that in most of these posts what they accomplish on a daily basis would be monumental to me., and they are wanting to do more. From where i stand you are a Rockstar! A smart, creative, tough and resilient person who accomplishes things regularly that are monumental to me. I wish these people would give themselves more credit, because reading there trials, tribulations, and triumphs instills me with hope. Most of the time motivation too. I aspire to function at a level where i can achieve even 1/16 of what they do DAILY in a week. Yet another post where i talk about how happy i am to have FINALLY started blogging, and to have found such a great forum to do so on. Well anyways, as a character in Pineapple Express has said – It’s “Time to suck the daaay’s dick”
Shackled Hope
I swallow the small blue pill, innocently enough seeking relief from the screaming shadows. Yes, the medicine does provide me temporary relief from the darkness, but it also shackles me to it. Imagine that- I am shackled, in every way to this pill. This little pill i take 3 times a day. If i wake up one day and these pills are gone, well than i am in a world of shit. Pain, The strongest feeling of dread possible, like some big scary drill sergeant is standing so close to me that his lips almost touch my ear as he screams as loud as humanly possible.. You know that feeling you get in your gut in a very dangerous situation- the “fight or flight” response? I mentally, physchiologically, psychologically, emotionally, and PHYSICALLY feel that way every screeching second of every day, nonstop, full throttle with no respite. Think of the thing that scares you the most. Whatever it may be. Think of confronting that horrifying fear every waking moment. There are no pauses, there is no mute, i am stuck in an endless loop of….hell. Im not sure i believe in this”hell” business being a real place or thing, but when a pastor preaches about hell and the burning , non-stop torment of the soul, of the whole body, mind, and spirit being constantly burned to death over and over again, that is one way i can try to get people to understand my mental illness and just how severe it is. Thats what it feels like. I wouldn’t wish it on my worst enemy. Death seems a permanent vacation, away from the deafening madness. So i am shackled to this medication. It is the only medication that has ever helped me to the point where i can somewhat function and take care of myself. I am grateful for the medicine, but at the same time the shackles scare the hell out of me. If those shackles were ever to be broken again, even for 5 days of having no medication i honestly and truthfully don’t think i would make it back into reality. Last time i strayed very far from home, didn’t think id ever make it back. Luckily i did the right thing and called my doctor (psychiatrist). HE, along with medication guided me back home, back to reality. But id be lying if i said all of me made it back. It didn’t. I feel the missing piece everyday. During that last episode i really had no hope of ever making it back to reality again. i was so far removed from it that i felt my end was near. But hope prevailed, as i got more hope and continued taking my medication i did get better. But the piece of me missing, i know i shall never get it back. Thats troubling to say the least. What if i have an episode (mental breakdown) like that again and don’t have my medicine, the thing that instills me with atleast enough reasoning power to pick up a phone and call my doctor for help? That is one of my worst fears. I really do not think i even stand a chance at making it back to reality again if i drift as far as i had before. And that piece of me that it took, its a chink in my armor. Scary indeed. I feel i would walk to far to get home, id get lost and not know which way is home (like i had). Only this time weaker, with a piece of me missing. That is so scary to me that deep inside of me, at my core, fear is placed. And we all know what fear does, it spreads. But on the other hand (as i see now) maybe i am better equipped to deal with another breakdown. Maybe the trail home will be slightly marked and act as a guide, much like people camping deep in the woods tie a colored piece of cloth or something to a branch every so often along the trail, thus allowing them to follow the marks until they are safe and back at their cars. Its a love/hate relationship, truly. I absolutely hate that i HAVE TO take this medicine to feel as “normal” as i can be (which is barely functioning in society and not taking great care of myself at all). But I’m alive. Just the fact that i didn’t end my own life during this last episode is a testament to how much i “need” this medication. And for that i am eternally grateful to have it, “I love” the pills and what they do for me. Liquid handcuffs??- YES. Shackles around my ankles and arms that i drag around with me made of pills just like someone in an old “chain-gang” would be dragging around a heavy ball of metal??-YES. I guess thats life though. Any glass, at any time, to any person, could be half full or half empty. And the glass could be filled with calming, soothing tea, or a volatile mix of chemicals that cause death when consumed. I guess we all have a mixture of them both from time to time. Unfortunately many of us suffer because of a mental illness which rips the label off the glass and blurs it so one cannot see if it is full or empty, nourishing or deadly. But here i am today, sitting here writing ( and enjoying it), safe and comfortable knowing that i have my medication(s). Grateful to be able to write. To simply purge, or to write with hope that atleast one person who is struggling can hear my story and know that it is possible to survive a psychological and emotional deathblow. Why is it possible? Because i just survived one and I’m no better than you are. Not only did i survive but i gained insight and motivation from it. If i can do it surely anyone can. I’m just a man. A human being. i breath the same air you do. I have feelings just like you do. Male or female it doesn’t matter. What matters, and what my wish is, is that hope shall spread like fear, but faster and with more voracity and veracity. Leaving no-one behind. Lofty you say? Possibly. But i do believe it is attainable. And with that i leave you today. With Hope, Please spread it!
Fit To Be Unfit 