Recently

I have found myself to be completely infuriated at my lack of motivation to do anything. I know I’ve hit the depressive side of things in my bipolar disorder when I feel sluggish. The only good thing that I can say is coming out of it is my ability to complete my “tasks” throughout the day. I am still doing what needs to be done but I just feel so blah and empty about all of it and that makes me more depressed. It’s a vicious cycle and I’m trying to climb out of it. I hope whoever is reading this is coming out on top of things that they are struggling with and I wish you luck.

SS

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Suicide

There was once this little word blob from a tumblr.com post that someone had made about how they had tried to commit suicide when they were younger but now they can hear their husband reading their four-year-old a bedtime story in funny voices in the other room and that it does, and will get better; let yourself be around to see it.

This has always stuck with me and for some reason really resonated deep. Maybe it is because I have been there and now my life is better or maybe because someone else found their peace with their own life and I can relate to that.

Now I sit around the kitchen table with my own family and think about all the times I felt so low I tried or contemplated suicide. It really can get better but unless you’re there to see it, you will never know just how good it can be.

If you are struggling out there and you need guidance, ask for it. You deserve it and all the good things that can come your way. Please don’t feel alone, there are people out there for you who can help. Never give up.

National Suicide Hotline:  1-800-273-8255

Slumber

Floating in a sea of blue,

grey days have come to pass.

Sunshine feels unreal, exquisite on the skin.

Feels like I’ve missed too many days,

slumbering in my depression.

Like a choke hold, only smothered and pressed.

No release until it passed,

now I’m floating in a sea of blue.

Happy

I’ve never been this happy, it’s as if I’m in a dream,

Please, somebody, help me, it’s a fervent fever dream.

I’m wrestling with some demons who won’t seem to let me be,

If anyone is listening, I’d expect some sweet relief.                                        

I’m very, very tired; I’ve been up all night long.

I’m fighting off the devil with everything I’ve left to spare,

this fever hasn’t broken and the battles hardly fair.

I’ll take a rest now and give way to weary bones,

I will not see you in the morning but that, I’ve always known.

Whispering

Days meld together like ice cream on a hot sidewalk. Feelings are heavy, too heavy and they drown.

They drown me, they drown him, they drown you.

There is no lighthouse, no buoy. Only pressure, only suffocation, only struggling to the surface. But that’s the tricky part, there is no surface. Breaking free like action glass in a movie in unattainable.

Stuck.

Stuck in cement, your whole body immobile. Stuck in the depression, cuddled with the monsters under the bed.

I am the monster under the bed.

It’s cozy here, the demons know the best secrets. They whisper their tales until they’re louder, and louder.

They’re screaming and it won’t spill out, but there’s a back-up and it’s building.

My head is filled to the brim with whispering and the screaming and why won’t someone just yell

STOP.

No one’s there. No one heard.

I am alone,

and sunk,

and stuck.