mckarlie

I have happiness in my heart and a thorn in my soul

Low Bits

So the last couple of weeks have been really unpleasant. I’m really stressed about moving and it’s effecting my mood quite poorly and so I’ve really struggled recently. I get to a point where I can fight it and blog and comment and share and catch up with friends to force myself to feel better, force myself back into the world from the safety of my bed or sofa,where i stare numbly at the tv or read if I’m able. I do this to keep my mind occupied so I don’t lose my shit. I get negative mantras in my head, when I’m alone they get so loud I sometimes vocalize them but stop myself from saying them out loud in their entirety as it feels like i’d be giving these words too much power.

This is the inside of my head, it’s a strange place to be and I’ve been fighting really negative feelings and thoughts but I know I’ll be successful. Well, honestly….I sometimes doubt if I’ll be successful, but figure saying that I know I’ll be ok eventually makes me sound less crazy lol

I am bipolar….it’s not who I am but by golly it sure has a lot to do with what I do, how I think, how I feel and how I effect others. It’s very close to being who I am isn’t it? But it’s not always the way, as I’ve gotten older my manic episodes have become less destructive and actually really productive. I don’t get delusions of grandeur or too much trouble sleeping these days, I just feel happier and more productive and good. So my “manic” episodes are what I feel to be my real life, and the depressive episodes, which last longer, are basically life on pause, life in sepia. I find myself treading water most of the time just to get by, all my energy being poured into just being ok for my kids that I literally feel exhausted just from such simple things. I hope I don’t sound sorry for myself, it’s hard not to when explaining the inside out of feeling utterly shitty, but it is what it is, many people suffer every day, my suffering is no greater or less than most people’s, but I try not to measure such things, comparing one’s sorrow to another and convincing yourself that you’re feelings are insignificant compared to other people’s problems and woes, well it’s really reductive to mental health but so so common. I am trying my best not to do that, we need to be feel of some worth and part of that is realizing that our feelings DO count and we ARE having a hard time and we deserve good things and not this shit we feel we’re wading through.

I’m going to try and get some writing done while I’m feeling so clear of mind, I hope you are all well xo

 

 

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Always a choice….?

It’s easy to be sad. It’s my default setting, except when I’m manic, then I’m the happiest person you could possibly meet. But for the most part, feeling like shit comes easily. So often I accept my miserable fate, curl up on the couch and stare at the tv for days on end. I don’t shower, I don’t eat, I don’t communicate with anyone except those I live with and even then it’s minimal. I wear my greasy hair like a badge of despair, my body stops aching for food and my mind stops ticking over and accepts that television will keep me connected to reality, ha!

Then I realize, I’m not helpless at all, I’m just giving in, giving up on trying. There are a thousand opportunities every day to make my situation even a little bit better. Have a shower, you DO feel better afterwards, even if a little. Eat some soup, your body is in starvation mode. Call a friend, a good one who will be ok if you sporadically cry. Go for a walk, a little bit of exercise really does have a positive effect on the depressed mind. Do SOMETHING. Do ANYTHING, just stop feeling sorry for myself and hibernating on the sofa, if I give in it will beat me.

So I’m torn between self indulgence and self awareness. I think of all those people I got to know during my hospital stay, those people who really don’t have a choice, those who can’t chose to change things because they don’t know how or simply can’t. Then I feel lazy, and that feeds the guilt and isolation, oh what a silly circle I have myself running in.

I think we often hand over our choice as the price we pay for depression. We forget we own our own will, we become slaves to our own emotions and let them lead and guide us into the murky swamps that track the tormented mind. So fuck it, today I’m having a shower, going for a walk and getting some work done. It may not sound like a lot to you but it’s a darn sight more than laying on the couch like a vegetable. Never forget you own your own will.

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Fight for your happy

She floats through life in constant pain

She bathes in memories, stays the same

Flashes come and flashes go

She’ll never admit all that she knows

When she was little he had his way

It sometimes happened every day

Touched in a way no child should be

Haunted to this day by the depravity

Then her next “Father” he liked to hit

It chipped away at her bit by bit

She kept calling out for her Mother

But her Mother would never bother

So she accepted that she was worthless

She gave up on life and all it’s tests

She merely accepted her illness

And her absolute lack of wellness

She forgot she had the option to fight

She forgot to try for what was right

It all got lost along the way

She made plans for another day

A day that would never, ever come

Because she felt broken and undone

Until one day she remembered her voice

And on that day she made a choice

To take her stories lay them bare

Not caring of others would mock or stare

She shined a light right deep down

And found that people gathered ’round

To also tell tales and comment and share

She found that others truly care

And from the shackles she finally shook

All the broken pieces they took

And wiped herself clean shiny new

It’s something that was hard to do

And still she struggles to this day

But she has found a different way

Take the darkness and shine a light

And for your own happiness, you must fight

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Repressed memories

I’ve been writing a lot of poetry lately, i’ve found it quite cathartic to analyze issues and things that have happened that i have previously tried to avoid thinking about as it hurt to do so. but writing about it seems to take it’s power away, shining a light on a problem and bringing it out of the darkness seems to bring some kind of healing.

For years I have effectively ‘known’ about some unpleasant things that happened when i was between the ages of 7-9, but i have kept them hidden deep down inside, like a monster hiding in the darkest caverns of my subconscious.

Just now i wrote a poem about the first night it occurred. And i thought airing the monster would bring a sense of relief. But i’m feeling numb and restless, is this something common?

I have been dealing with things repressed to a certain extent, but this was way way deep down, and now it’s been confronted, i just feel kind of empty.

I’m sure others have drudged up repressed memories, is this something common or am i the exception to the rule? should i be crying or asking why?

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You were gone

I wish that you could see, that the blame is not on me

I wish that you could see, all the harm you caused to me

You were the one that was meant to be there

But when I called, you weren’t anywhere

You were the one to love me, when all others were gone

But you left me alone and broken

What could I have done so wrong?

You wanted me to be like you, but I was something else

So you moved on to another, and left me on a shelf

Too difficult to deal with, who cares for such a thing

I was just a child, I didn’t think to bring

Armor to my own home, protection from your care

‘Cause you were meant to keep me safe, but you weren’t anywhere

All those times he hurt me, I cried out for your help

But you didn’t come running and I couldn’t help myself

He was strong and angry, I was small and frail

The fact that you don’t love me stings as my greatest fail

And now I can’t forgive you but I can do better than you did

The life that grew inside me is the reason that I live

Your mistakes will not be my own

Your ways will not carry on within my home

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Bipolar and the outside world

I have always been ultra sensitive to how I’m treated by others. An argument with a friend or negative exchange will usually make me spiral temporarily, it feels like everything is so pointless and immaterial, that no matter how hard I try with people, they just don’t ‘get’ me at the end of the day. Then I feel guilty for feeling sorry for myself, and so on it goes, my endless circle of ups and downs.

Just as a negative exchange can make me spiral downwards, positive encounters fill me with joy. Any kind of kindness or recognition truly lifts me up. I always assumed that this was a personality flaw and not synonymous with bipolar, but I’ve just seen on twitter that Stephen Fry seems quite unsettled at the responses he’s been getting to him telling the world of his suicide attempt last year, and it’s made me wonder, are these behaviors common amongst those with bipolar? Does it make us ultra sensitive to the input of others?

I keep wishing I could care less about so many things, like caring is an affliction, but when my emotional state is so dependent upon others, it is definitely unpleasant. Especially now with social media, people don’t talk how they used to talk, someone will “like” something instead of actually replying, or not reply at all because they have so many different means of communication happening at any given time. And every time someone does miss a text or tweet or whatever, I feel rejected and bad about myself.

Are others as invested in their surrounds as I am? Or is it just a flaw that plays out hand in hand with my bipolar?

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