Behind the mask, no face to find,
A trick of mind, ‘neath sun that’s kind,
Yet rain pours down within the soul,
Where hidden truths take their toll.

“Get up, get on, you’ll be alright,”
The lies they tell ease the plight.
A crown once worn, now tipped and slanted.
Society’s stigma, harsh and untrue.

“Go out, be free,” they say, unaware,
That solitude’s chosen over despair.
In sorrow’s depth, alone you wallow,
While unseen, in code, for help you call.

Attention sought? Not even a hand to hold,
A listening ear, as your story’s told.
Over and over, being told “You’ll be okay,”
But will they listen, or just turn away?

Until the end, when all is read,
And in the paper, your name is led.
Will they see then, what they missed before,
Or just a picture, nothing more?

Healing can feel 2 paths
The one with all the rocks
And the one with the steps to the mountain
The flowers that bloom for every little accomplishment
Finding the things that work for me
The constant therapy appointments
The constant doing things alone
Finding the peace with the sun
The peace with the birds and the breeze
The walking up on another chance
Another day
Closer to where I want to be
Closer to the northern lights
Closer to the place where nature is the most beautiful
Where the leaves stop falling
Where your so at peace
That nothing or nobody takes that away from you again

I grew up in a world where you were to be seen, but not heard.

I grew up in a world of “do as I say, not as I do”.

I grew up in a world where it was unacceptable to cry lest you be ostracized for being weak or girlish. Unless, of course, you were being beaten, as crying was encouraged.

I grew up in a world where blue is for boys and pink is for girls, or everything is either black or white. There is no color spectrum in between.

I grew up in a world where presenting habits, preferences, mannerisms, speech, and style that is not in line with masculine stereotypes meant you are less than a man.

I grew up in a world of preselected choices and rejection of uniqueness. Rebellion was disrespect. How dare I be different?

I grew up in a world where you could be a doctor, a lawyer, an accountant, an engineer, or a banker. You could not choose to be an artist or a musician…those were hobbies, not careers.

I grew up in a world of obligations and not choice.

I grew up in a world where I learned to survive by hiding in plain sight though conformance, silence, and camouflage.

I was not of that world, but I complied and conformed to avoid the shame and stigma of being different.

I grew up cold.

And one day I realized I escaped that world physically, but never mentally.

How could I unlearn survival? How would I shed the things that protected and kept me safe all those hidden years.

How would I drown out shame when it has the loudest voice in my head? How could I escape the prison of my mind?

How could any small, tenuous steps of liberation become a full hearted sprint toward happiness when I am weighted down by so much baggage? When would the wings of freedom sprout strong enough to carry me away?

And thus time passed as I struggled to unlearn my upbringing. I tried to suppress these teaching while raising my own children. I succeeded in some ways and failed in many others.

I now grow old knowing that what I was taught is as wrong today as it was back then.

I now grow old allowing myself to be the person I always was, from the beginning.

I now grow old and have to account to no one but myself and those I love.

I now grow old learning to forgive myself and to humbly ask for forgiveness from those I have hurt.

I now grow old understanding that to fully demonstrate love to others, I must first have learned to love and accept myself.

I now grow old endeavoring to live a better, more authentic life.

I now grow old realizing I have been reborn as my true self, loving art and music, being gentle and caring, crying when I want to cry, wearing what I want to wear, loving black and white and all the colors in between, and understanding that being different is not something to be hidden or ashamed of…

And this alone has warmed my once young, cold heart.❤️

No pain, no gain

Still holds true

For biceps and exes

To name just a few

How does it feel

When pain leaves the heart?

A weight off your shoulders,

A race ‘bout to start?

But pain is evidence of life

And why should you be spared?

I know it’s easier to go numb

Than feeling lonely, feeling scared

But let pain come and let it go

For only growth comes after

And transformation can begin

When bitter tears turn into laughter

Today I have decided to tell my story. I suffer from bipolar. I was diagnosed with the mental disorder over 20 years ago. I have been through alot. It has been a real problem most of my life.
It was triggered after I had my second child. It was a nightmare 😔. I ended up being hospitalized several times over the course of twenty years. I will do my best to explain the horror of it all. I remember having one episode after another. Each episode was very exhausting and dramatic. I would block out a lot of the different personalities and triggers of emotional dynamics. It was so 😫 tiring.
I will try to explain one of my episodes to give you an idea of it all. Well, it all begins with not taking my medication. It slowly turns into a horror movie. I hear voices and act out several different personalities in my mind. I begin to have spells of crying dramatically having thoughts of despair. I was on edge and going down a bottomless pit of not wanting to be here anymore 😪. Yet, in most circumstances I didn’t want to kill myself because an angelic voice told me, ” no” don’t do it! I say, “okay” most times. Smh.
In these drastic times I have family who did help me like my mother. And that was important and fortunate because at these times it is good to have positive support systems in your life.
In most cases my family would call 911 and have a rescue squad come get me. In this case, I can’t stop crying. I wanted to leave! I wanted to go away! My family would say that I was going to the hospital. My main support is my mother. She was always there for me.
Once the ambulance 🚑 arrived I felt like I was in a horrible movie. This has happened to me several times over the years. Yet on this particular case the ENT would come in from the ambulance slowly one my one. They see I’m distraught and incoherent. I don’t know who I was at this point. I’m yelling for no reason and crying for no reason. I can’t understand what is going on. The police also came in…and it got worse. They felt like I would hurt myself or others and so one officer threatened to taze me. I said please don’t..please give me some water to drink. They did.
They slowly calmed me down and then my casemanager came in to also help out.
They asked her several questions to understand why I was like this. She told them that I was bipolar. I am so sick at this point. I have felt supernatural powers around me. I would say, ” I see angels”. They weren’t really visible but a feeling of goodness and calming voices.
So this contributes and adds to my psychotic behavior 🤔. That is what I felt.
I want to tell you the experience of being INSIDE THE AMBULANCE 🚑. Once I get inside the ambulance I felt like i was being ported to an experimental place. I was scared!!!!!This particular personality in me was very informative. I was talking a great deal like I was literally someone else.
One ENT said that he had never seen anything like this before. I finally got to the emergency room. Once there I begin, to yell and bring attention to myself. The police 🚔 officers were staring at me. A guard was placed at the entrance of my room door. I was being watched for over 24 hours. After a while a psychiatric doctor told me I would be admitted to a room in the hospital.
Now, I was on the floor of the psychiatric unit. Once I was in my own room I was in a bed. In some cases I was given medication to help relax me and I would sleep for hours.
So this was a particular bipolar experience. The next day, after being monitored I had to learn and come to appreciate little things again. Showering 🚿, brushing my teeth, wearing a hospital gown, and being served my breakfast lunch and dinner. This was a safe place.
Once I stayed a couple of weeks I was let go. I had a team of supporters around to help me. I had a case worker, a psychiatrist, and medical doctor coming in to see me. I felt much better. This was going to begin to be a part of my life for over 20 years. It is hard. But I will say I’m currently doing ok. So remember you are not alone. Be positive. Find good supporters in your circumstances. I hope this helps someone. Thank you for hearing my story. I am beating bipolar.