Chewing Scenery

I'm still a good person; aren't I?

Despite the moments where 

I vex those who love me,

They know that I am always 

On their side; don't they?

My job provides for me

As I struggle with sunlight.

A thousand hobbies

That I don't always have time

But can always find my way to guilt.

Lava lashes out from my speech

Eyes view the devastating diatribe,

Destruction delivered in Dolby

Breath grows ever shorter

As my body sizzles silently.

My mind racing, it is hard to see

The tiny sliver of sense

Piled atop the corpse considerations.

If only I could sacrifice my want

In favor of my deepest need,

Without fracturing my self

And leaving me despaired.

Chemical Restraints; Chemical Warfare

Why must you pin me down?

Not quite suffocating

But leaving me apathetic.

Unable to pursue passions

Not wanting to accomplish.

What awaits seems uncertain,

Unclear what it carries.

My sole focus darkens

Caged in the eternal now

Filtered from the future

Paralyzed in the present

Hated by history

Mourning my memories.

I call out through mental mud

Voice painting the horizon

With my unbridled agony.

No hope of a distant ear

Only a cathartic

Cry of constant contrition.

Enveloped by fixation

A barrage of flashbacks

Pummels my resilience

Searing my conscience 

And robbing me of my

Willing self preservation.

Nowhere to hide in the mind

My enemy, my self

With no hope it will cease

And no way to shield me;

I crumple to a wary knee

Battered, exhausted, hurting;

Yet unbroken; angry.

I am sure I have better

If my drive returns

There is so much that

I could accomplish.

When the restraints tie you down

From within your base of hope

And the mind that gives strength

Turns on you to wreck you;

Riding the storm out

Is the best you can hope

To get another chance

To be fully alive.

No Mal

      I write these blogs as a way to record my life and share in the hope to help others and give myself meaning. I am bipolar and odd and opinionated and I have come much farther in life (on every level) than I ever intended. Still, there are times when I get the feeling that I'm not really doing anything at all; the sense that I have this life thing all wrong.

     I always wanted my life to be a tale of triumph - of the spirit and heart and circumstance. Yet, time and again, the truth of who I am shines through and I realize how insignificant I can be next to everyone else. Our collective humanity is our weakness, but my humanity is as shallow as a puddle and as frail as an egg carton. I am a demon of my own design.

     My inability to truly effect change or joy in those around me seems to resound from the motif that makes me who I am; the gaping flaws that make me accessible also make me frustrating and untenable. The pieces of life have time and again fallen around me like post-tornado shrapnel, but the belief was always in the currents of life causing the destruction. It occurs to me that the whirling dervish my well have been me: a Tazmanian Devil of emotional ineptitude. Being bipolar may shade my view of the present, but more and more I come to feel that the disruption lies squarely on my shoulders as a Judas to my own professed cause.

      Now that I am aware of this reality, all I can imagine to do is hibernate from the world. A life lived as work, school, home, repeat causes few ripples in the gentle ecosystem. My current refrain causes me to leave a constant echo of distress on life's ocean. It's almost a curse to those who love me: "May you find love in an intesting person". I am sorry for all that I cause I'm the general flow of being.

     If only lobotomies were more practical. If only I were more... Plain.

Un-Whole-Y

      At some point, I hoped that the parade of pain and discomfort and self loathing would end. Even knowing that my life is better than many, my mind makes the world around my cloudy through a haze of despair. I just want to make myself better and become a stable member of the society around me. I want to be blinded to the many alternatives around me and be happy with the basic food groups. I want to feel like I have something to offer to everyone I encounter, and that I feel accepted and appreciated by those around me. Not be beholden to the constant idea that in every moment of being me will drive those closest to me away screaming into the recesses of life. Even more importantly, I wish I wasn't self aware enough to even have these thoughts. I want the confidence to create. To excel. To feel like I have a purpose beyond just existing. 

      Even in my good moments (which there have been many in recent months), I can't shake the feeling that my flaws lead to much discontent to those closest to me who have to endure my ramblings and moods and ineptitude. I have a million ways to try and get validation from those in my life that it is worth sharing with me, yet I still thank them at every turn because I have always felt that any time people choose to spend with me could be spent doing so many things that are more meaningful - but they give those moments to me. Almost all of my best moments in life have been spent in the company of others - how much fantastic really happens alone? 

     My career choice leads me to more confusion and feeling of hopelessness - at 40 years old I am still trying to figure out what I want to be when I grow up. I have had many jobs, I still have many choices, but I have no direction or belief that I can become succesful at any of them. I'm in school fr business, but where will that leave me (besides in debt) in 3 years when I get a bachelors degree? Will I just be a better qualified minion? I hope it does do something for me; narrow the options and provide me a path for the next 20 years. 

     Unless that writing thing takes off.

     Maybe it's just me. (Isn't it always?) Is there a way to change the motivation, the perception, the hope in what I see? Jokes roll off my tongue, experiences form behind me; here I sit wanting... something. Whatever I was created with that is missing, internally I still realize within my intuition that it just isn't there. Is there a way to convince my mind that whatever I don't have is not worth having? I'm still waiting for that moment. A happy life with all the wonders trumped by a melancholy mind.

     I am still alive, so there is always hope.

Then, the Rage

     After days of depression comes the flip side of bipolar - the manic phases filled with irritability and a lack of patience for people's shortcomings. Not the best combination when you are working in retail. Especially in the "big city" with snobbish jerks and self righteous retards. Just to make the perfect horror show, I forgot to take my medication this morning. All the seeds were planted for a combustible combonation.
      I tried to start my day off well, listening to my music on the way into work to try and set my mood in the right way. The traffic was the same stupid people in bruises as always, but I navigated it the same as always - leaving early to allow plenty of time and less stress to arriving on time. I talked with my wife and my best friend about the (very positive) decision I had made in the past 24 hours, and they certainly helped make me feel like the darkness of depression had passed and I felt much better about myself and my choices. There were two polar opposites (see what I did there?) that were coming together to produce a day that could go any number of ways. That is what awaited me....
     When I got to work, I felt really good and the day started off well. In what would become a running theme, I had the first of a number of customers who came into the Apple store with a dark aura and a chippy attitude. The strain of my mental condition combined with these people who feel justified in being jerks to customer service agents made it very necessary to keep my emotions in constant view and take breathers when needed. All the way up until close, people came in with surly demeanors, like there was a bad moon afoot. However, with the support of my coworkers and my internal resilience, I made it through the day with my head held high and my knuckles unmarred.
     What people generally misunderstand about bipolar is the mania side of the equation. Depression is relatively easy to understand, as we all have experience with being 'blue' or 'miserable', if not worse. However, mania gets the reputation for those in a manic state buying new cars or feeling invincible; leaving many to think that mania is a 'pleasant' type of disease to have, much like having a nymphomaniac (there's that word again) for a wife. Much like the latter, there is a leering dark side to mania where it leaves the sufferer to feel highly irritable, having racing thoughts that leave you unable to concentrate, gives you a tendency to fixate constantly on something dark in your mind that tortures you incessantly and shifts decision making focus from logic to pleasure (the pleasure principle - therein explaining where the new car that can't be paid for comes from - and worse), It's hard to explain in a way to people who don't have mania how disconcerting and frustrating it is to be in a frame of mind to act out in fun for the moment that you will pay for greatly after you 'come down'. Racing thoughts seems like a good thing - thinking about fie or six things at one time - but it's not a complete thought process, it's just multiple things clouding your mind with an inability to grasp and manipulate any of them, leaving me confused and frustrated by my inability to function mentally at my best. Notice, however, that I didn't use the Hollywood standard of uncontrolled violence. Frustration and violence are different things, HOLLYWOOD.
     I made it through one of thousands of days I have spent in my life riding the wild fluctuations involved in the bipolar disease process.I have never asked pity or excuse for what I have, only understanding from those who might give me the benefit of the doubt. I have a day of rest ahead, after which I will take my medication and try and get back to the right frame of mind before work on Sunday. I can rest easy on my ability to (finally) make a mature decision and the God sent support system I have in my wife, my best friend and those who care for me and are willing to listen to my maniacal mumblings until I can finally figure it our or here it for myself. I'm getting better......

The Fog is Inside Today

     Even though I have gotten a lot better, today was a rude reminder that I am still a diseased human being. My mind set forth on self loathing and contempt, there was nothing to do but just keep moving and hope it didn't grip my faculties for too long at any point. With all of the personal growth I feel I have shown in the past few weeks, it only takes a chemical flare up to send me back to the fractured mind I have known in different variations my whole life. History is spotted with great men who suffered and ultimately overcame. Let's not kid ourselves, I have no greatness within me. I suffer only to crawl forward in hopes of finally overcoming the Judas within my head.

     One thing I thought about all day is how much those around me tell me what a great person I am, how much I have to offer society as a whole, how much I just don't see it.  On days like today, it goes another level and I don't even believe I'm as good of a person as I believe that I am. I feel worthless, flawed, fraudulent and irrelevant. I wish I could be a better person for all of those around me, stronger and able to offer more to their lives. A laugh is fine, but it doesn't make up for all my shortcomings.

      It has become readily apparent to me however that I have a need for caring and affection and a hug every day. I am not depressed that my wife is gone, but her presence is the panacea that calms the demons when they start their chaotic chorus to pit my heart and mind against me. I always felt like the distraction of people's company made me forget, but I can readily admit that I need to be cared for, to add to my daily peace and to give me something more than any chemical can. However, I am strong and I will attempt to climb from bed tomorrow and leave this malaise in the mirror.

      I am self aware, however. I will never be great looking, no matter how much weight I lose. I will never be a 'hard worker' in the grand vein of millionaires. I don't have the most responsible demeanor. I don't have the best jokes or the greatest personality. I have a heart and a whole bunch of average to offer those I care for. Is that enough? It's not mine to say. That's up to those who surround me and save me every day. I just have to keep moving and allow life to form begins me.....

A Friend in Need... Is a Choice

      A stripper gets fired for excess. How obtuse..... Do they get fmla coverage? Rehab costs covered? Anywho, a wonderful young lady reached out to me in a time of crisis. I had plans with another friend today; I could very easily said some supportive stuff about the situation and sent her on her way. I have certainly had past "friends" give me the "it will get better!" brush off in my own past.

      That is exactly why I couldn't do that to this suffering soul. I feel it is inherent to make adjustments and be physically present for comfort. A text is okay, a call is better, but nothing compares to when my doll face holds me when things grow dark. Did I "save the day"? I doubt it. Did I solve the problems? Not within my control. I merely showed a human being that I have shared laughs, liquor and moments with that I was also available to listen, to cry, to offer my support in a time of need. In this age of media and instant messaging, the power of a hug and an empathic stare have fallen prey to the next convenience or distraction. I'm not better than anyone who would decide differently, but I am omni-aware of the ache it can leave when someone reaches out and receives anything less than a partner in a painful time.

       I hope we all continue to try and appreciate people over the litany of pastimes that leave us engaged but our souls empty. It's important not to overthink it- a friend in need is my chance to comfort and be a friend indeed. I am not perfect, I have missed a cry for help in the past, but I strive to never make that mistake again. The slightest hint of discord requires nothing more than a "what's wrong?" It costs me nothing to think about someone eps in that moment, and it is up to them now to share or keep their pain to themselves. A friend will always give you enough to be aware of the predicament. An acquaintance is more likely to keep it aside. However, a friend with self worth issues may distract you, so as not to "bother" you.

      And these are the people who need us most.

It Gets Better

       "I'm so OLD!"

       The words bleed forth from my lips with such vitriol and contempt on a daily basis. It's true, I am older now than I have ever been (obviously). Other truths are that it takes a lot more work to stay somewhat healthy; my joints and body ache more intensley and for a lt longer than it did before; my memory is so faulty that IT is almost a memory. When I was a boy, teenagers were OLD. When I was a teenager, thirty seemed to be a horrifying transition towards being one of "the Ancient Ones". However, when I hit thirty, it occured to me that eighty is so far off; that MUST be what old looks like. Now that I have accomplished half of eighty, I am starting to see life in a different light. Some of that is due to my life circumstances taking a dramatic shift; but I have to attribute it also to having so many life experiences. Old doesn't mean the same today as it once did.

      Yes, effectively, I am old. Why is that a bad thing? What is the alternative? "Live fast; die young; leave a beautiful corpse"? That is a tantalizing panacea when you are living through the horrors of depression; but - it's nice to have made it this far and created so many wonderful markers in so many amazing people's lives. Getting old allows me understanding and the ability to determine things that a younger me would never have even given a second glance. Things I could never have imagined at thirty have happened in the past ten years of existence. Not all great things; but more than enough to make the trip one to smile upon when glancing at them in the reflections of a darkened window in the evening. I'm here. The echo of dispair resonates through my mind when I think about how it could have been. Through age I have learned to doubt my negative assumptions.

      As a twenty year old, I made a declaration to myself and all who would listen that if I wasn't married with a family by thirty, I would kill myself to end a lonely life. Time would prove that marriage wasn't any better than alone, depending on who your partner was. At times, it was worse. I won't say I "soldiered on"; more like I pushed through because I had given my word and I felt a responsibility to keep it to those around me. What if I had ended myself in those early days? Depression made it very possible to make my twenties the end of the beginning. I would never have seen Las Vegas. New York. San Francisco. Florence. I would never have tried a litany of foods. Cooking would have been a Hardy Boys mystery. I couldn't have learned the wonders of anime. Strip clubs. The book I am creating would have been lost to the cosmos. So many jokes untold; laughs not shared; pains left lurking in the souls of many.

       I would never have known the greatest love I have ever known: my son and my wife. The experience of having them both curled close to me - a pod of love and life that really has been the stamp of my later life.

      Ultimately, age has given me the vision of a true future. When you're young or even in your twenties, life seems like it will always be the limited scope of things you have experienced in those early days - mostly school, the struggle of finding your self, enjoying all the things we couldn't at a young age (generally to excess), financially battling toward comfort - all while learning how to interact with the world around you and learning to be a cog in the community construct. With practice comes mastery (either what is expected or what you have determined is the portrait you have chosen to hang on your face for the world), and confidence in what the world is and where you exist in it. For the first time in my life, the thought of eighty is one I can see vividly - the people I have in my life sitting with me in an old folks home. It takes twenty years to have a friend of two decades - another gift you can only accomplish by growing older.

      Believe me, when I wake up in the morning with my back creaking and my knees popping, it isn't what I envisioned would be my fate. However, it is a small price to pay for being able to kiss my wife good morning; talking to my son for hours; jokins with my closest friends throughout many moments painted against a black canvas. None of us are ever 100% happy nor is life always going to have us in a place of thanks and grins. I have found my content to know that I have far too much to appreciate to ever bemoan some extra shots and occasional daily discomforts. (Prostate exams notwithstanding) 

     If you are one of these young people who are caught in the depression of "Will this always be the way?", I can promise you it does get better. You just need to take the time now to learn and grow from the pain to remold yourself to be ready when the right people and right situation come along..... so that you feel worthy of your (eventual) "good fortune" that you have worked your whole life to acheive.