Don’t always trust the light

Darkness is Beauty. It brings out all those who hide from the harsh rays of the sun and those that follow it’s stinging rays.

Light can be tricky. It’s akin to Loki and a bee’s sting when walking through a meadow of the sweetest kind. You don’t expect a deadly attack from something so lovely, yet it’s there and you’re dead upon impact.

There are times within the darkness you find saviors whom one might think are the deadliest of foes, only to realize they are your truest friend and most precious gift in life.

I want to be the stranger starring back at me

See that girl there in the mirror?

The one starring back at me,

All smiles and confidence, with sass in her eyes?

Who is she? Where’s she from?

She looks so happy and carefree I want her to be me!

I want the love she must have and joy she radiates,

I want to laugh, not cry nor hide my life all day,

I want to be that girl in the mirror looking back…

Wait, that’s me in the mirror, but I don’t feel that way

That’s the image I show the world every day.

So this is the goal? To smile in true form?

It will take much time to make myself glad for me,

The way I wish and encourage others to be.

I must now follow the path of the vain

So that I may maintain, a more healthy view of my self

Then I shall become the girl in the mirror.

Mental Health Stigmas

I share my fellow blogger’s thoughts on this subject and support him all the way in this regard.

The Bipolar Writer Mental Health Blog

Mental Health Stigmas – What Can we do to Change the Stigma?

I never want to repeat a blog post, so from time to time, I go through past blog posts. I realized I have talked recently about the stigma that surrounds mental health. What I talk about is that there is a responsibility that mental health bloggers face. It up to us in the mental illness community writing blogs to fight the stigma.

What does that mean?

It means showing people that it is not “weird” or “wrong” to have a mental illness. When I see a person on a television show portraying a mental illness its always as a crazy person. The people we see on the news that shoot up a movie theater, they’re always labeled as crazy. But to me, that doesn’t represent those of us in this struggle. We have to show the real sides…

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The case of bad-speller-ities gone south

I sats there in my chair, wits fangers in my hair

Saying way ay can’t I spell that word todya?

I know the word, I know the sound but when it comes I can’t write it down…

The lettres go wonkey backwrads loopy do

I can’t seem to put two and to with ym sentance

So ye may read my words from me to you it not happing now

Is a berry vad kase of  bad-speller-ities gone south

For I now my wok but tat all it about

Poem: What lies we wish were truth

Every day I wish upon a lie to be a truth, yet in this way I know, as from the start, I’ll never be with you.

Empty promised words upon trembling lips in heat will never measure up to empty cold limbs beneath the bedding and the sheets.

Alone and cold will be my life as long as truth are lies, because all these empty Promise’s make me want to cry…



Grief, loss, depression: Dreams of Death hunt my every hour

I thought it started in 2014, the year both my maternal grandfather and dad died, that my grief took my bipolar from simple ups and downs of a roller coaster that it finally became to a nose dive into the pits of hell.

But, in reality, that was not even close to were my path of upheaval began.

They say that many actors, artist and those with the creative touch have a bit of madness about them…I believe it very much. I live this too much in my strange reality that is my so-called life. Born in 1982, to high school sweethearts, I had underdeveloped lungs along with a few other problems. These do not bother me that much now. What does? What bothers me now is how often I think of death.

Death. The death of my three grandfathers, my daddy, my memaw, my cousin who was too young to die; I think of them all the time. And, I think of my own little deaths. The death of my innocence at the tender age of 5. The death of friendships, both past, and present due to moves or my behavior.

Death is in my waking and my sleeping thoughts and I can never escape it. This Reaper won’t leave me be. Death hunts me in my dreams and the images can be cruel while in the light of sun you would think they would burn from my mind, but no they can be even more wicked and I shudder.

Today, I emptied a full bottle of pills, not vitamins, with the intent to take them all. At this point, I put them back in and placed them next to my other meds. Bipolar is a Bitch to shake.

I am unstable and school, I’m to start classes again in about 5-6 hours. I’m not going, again and this time is the last try. I need to admit myself to the hospital. I have never taken the pills out like that. I’ve put them in pill boxes but not this way. I can’t do this. I just can’t. I have fucked up!!!

Back to my original statement… sorry for Rambling – I warned you with the name of the site, so no complaints on that. yeah?

My point is that my grief started when I was too young to know what that and loss were. A little kid doesn’t know, and shouldn’t need to know what this kind of pain of loss, physical, mental and emotional are.

Now, as an adult, I don’t know what I am doing. I am lost and feel like I am a drag of society. I am not ignorant. Far from it. I have higher learning and if my life hadn’t been hell I would have more than one degree my now, but I don’t. I don’t even have my first BA. With this, I feel shame. I see this as a fail on my part in life. I pace in my mind over and over hoping I can do it by knowing I can’t.

I love life, learning, kids, nature, art, music, dance, cultures, history and everything about our world; and yet my mind hates me.

Smiling on the outside, doing my best to let people know they matter to the world, I down my own self daily and never wish the same thing for me.



Above photos feature people I have lost

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