How My Father’s Suicide Forced Me To Acknowledge My Own Mental Illness

I was a fatherless daughter. When I was 2, my father died. It was not an “accident.” It was not old age. He died by suicide. Every year, Father’s Day cruelly mocked me. My relationships with men were cautionary tales. I was in a spiral. Self-harm, a teenage eating disorder, attempted suicide and depression were gaslighted to a degree in which I was convinced I was a moody teenager looking for attention. Barely surpassing legal drinking age, my life was in such disarray I gut-wrenchingly decided to place a son for adoption to give him his best shot. I still was not … Continue reading How My Father’s Suicide Forced Me To Acknowledge My Own Mental Illness

Auto Pilot

  I hear a commercial vaguely on the television, my son is playing in his room where I hear the occasional roar of a pretend dinosaur and there is a quiet jingle of a collar as my dogs run around. Inside my mind there is a constant stream of disconcerting thoughts I have no control over. I feel gut wrenching guilt, bottomless hopelessness and an abyss of emotions I have no actual words for. It is like I am underwater, my senses are dulled and I am not entirely sure how it is 8:00pm when it was only 3:30pm a … Continue reading Auto Pilot

Less.

Less space you inhabit. More you’re worth. My racing thoughts are uncontrollable. My ship is off course. It’s capsized. I’m drowning. No one can see. Smaller bites. Smaller servings. Congratulations on less of my existence. Down Alice’s rabbit hole where I drink that potion that makes me shrink. I’m losing this fight. I’m losing. I don’t know how much more I can endure, because I keep enduring it. Testaments to strength, medication or will. I have no clue. How do I continue to wake up and slowly die each day a little more in a soul I’m not sure I … Continue reading Less.

China Doll

2am seems like my own witching hour. It is quiet and my mind is not. I have a need that despite my many sources, is not filled. When did I begin my spiral? I do not recall. I was on a search for a feeling, any feeling, other than the lovely numbness my medicine gave me. Though the dual powers inside myself were placated by an endless dosage of pills designed to quell my inner demons, there remained a shred of rebellion. On a logical plane, I am aware the damage my search causes. I am frozen, but for one … Continue reading China Doll

Bipolar vs. Bitch

I’d like to establish my perspective… Seems an appropriate venue for that. I have a bipolar condition and struggle every day. There are occasions where I act in a manner that is in conflict with my natural personality. This is not to excuse rude behavior, but merely to illustrate there are episodes in which I’m certainly not myself. Having addressed that, there are absolutely times I’m a bitch. I have loved ones and friends who assert I am a kind, loving person who is generous and giving to those she loves. Yet, I’ve come into many friendships, relationships, and other … Continue reading Bipolar vs. Bitch

Making A Mess.

Messes. We make them. We clean them up. Hell, some of us are messes. I have a point of utter frustration I do not understand. I would dearly love too, but cannot, despite my best efforts. I am not a coordinated person. I forget things, I pay bills late, sometimes I eat cereal for dinner, and I can cry in the middle of public during a panic attack. My anxiety and bipolar disorder are crosses I carry. Having said that, I take medicine religiously. I follow a routine. I do everything I am “supposed” to do to manage my mental … Continue reading Making A Mess.

You Can’t Take Away My Colors

Died. Dyed. We call words like these homophones. They sound the same, but look different. This post started because of an odd act a friend seemed to take issue with: I dyed part of my hair purple. Granted, its not a traditional color and it will stand out in most crowds, but I did not realize it would be received with scathing disapproval. It’s hair. It is cut, it grows, it falls out, it does any number of things. Thus, I offer the explanation I gave them. For the better part of a year I was a redhead. It was … Continue reading You Can’t Take Away My Colors

Unrequited.

When you have bipolar disorder, love can take become an inferno that eventually engulfs its victims. Each party is left with scars and memories. Some love stories are not happily ever after. They are the short stories that remind us what we are capable of. I do not want labels. I do not define my life in absolutes. I want one perfect kiss in time, to reach for in the farthest corners of my mind when I need a kiss oh so badly, but there is no one there. I want a kiss that can sustain the moments in between. … Continue reading Unrequited.