As the last day of the month long celebration of your existence draws to a close, I can’t help but to feel a sense of relief. Not because I no longer want to celebrate you yet I fumbled with finding the words to aptly describe you. Words do no justice to the impact you have had on my life. You are more than words. You are love. Or what I know to be as love.
My interpretation of love was skewed until you graced my life. It still is a bit distorted but what your love has taught me is that love is not painful. The most valuable of lessons has been the love I deserve from myself. This isn’t something you have told me rather shown me. Your mere existence represents a love that is unconditional and honest. Your display of loving yourself has taught me that it is not selfish but necessary
I surprisingly found myself grappling with words for the month. I found that none measured up or lived up to your honor. I do not put you on a pedal stool to elevate you but to thank you. Thank you for being exactly who you are because who you are has been perfect for who I shall become
If two strangers have the same negative experience with you, you need to check yourself…..
And then I went on to say that I encounter these type of women on a daily basis, in which I do but…
I do not take back nor apologize for what I said in the letter…but what I will do is acknowledge my part.
What the hell am I doing?
Is it the fact that I am manic? (I need to admit that to myself because it is what it is…right?) Today I am too much for people and I can see how. I have been medication free for almost three months so that sounds about right.
Back on my meds again, soon? As much as I hate it, it’s a possibility.
Hold up…do I hate it? If I did I would be curving to the temptations of astigmatism. I do not hate it. I am embracing It.
Sitting with it.
Allowing it to be just as it is.
This is my first ever omission to mania. I usually try to hoard it and keep it bottled in. In all honesty, it was this post on The Bipolar Writer, written by C.M. North, that cued me to tune in.
This is my first time to recognize, better yet, acknowledge the symptoms of my mania.
Everything is overwhelming. My senses are heightened and I feel…discombobulated.
Out of it.
Someone needs me.
I am forgetting something.
My mind races 1,000 mph.
I take things personally.
I am not in my lane.
I am in search of…..
This is when I unintentionally hurt peoples feelings. I am brutally honest, often unapologetically. My truth is being exposed so….fuck it, I’ll expose yours.
Paranoia sets in.
The whispers start. And it isn’t my imagination because they are talking about me. They talk about how I am mean, bossy, and a bitch yet they claim to not judge others or even better, they understand.
I don’t even understand.
I question if I should ride this wave a bit longer. But I know I shouldn’t because it affects everyone. Not just me.
I go to extremes and the fall…
the fall is brutal, puncturing any progress I’ve made along the way. As I rapidly type this, no really you should see my thumbs tapping away, I am putting together the puzzle of my life. My eyes are opening but the question that remains is,
Am I ready to not be this way? It’s all I know but all I am discovering. And all I wish to go away.
You may say, ” you act like you have a choice”.
I think I do and it is others who my mania effects negatively and maybe I am tired of dumbing myself down for them. No one cares that I am sensitive. Nope, all they remember are my words. Their truth.
Having a mental illness is a challenge. Having cooccurring disorders is torcher. The gravitational pull into the abyss is daunting. It glitters, inviting me into its embrace. The familiarity is the bait. The contentment, isolating. Before you know it, a hospital gown with no underwire bra. No drawstring pants. The exciting time of your day is med time.
We are caged.
After some research and sleep, I woke refreshed. There has been a huge shift with the moon. This explains everything. If you have followed R.O.E. for any length of time, you have heard me speak of the moon and the effects it has on me. This type of shift hasn’t happened in 9 years!!.
When I often discuss the way I feel with energy it is referred to as being an empath. I have never really liked calling myself that because it seems to be a trend of sorts. I do my best to stray away from the trends of our society.
Yesterday it was too much too handle. I wasn’t. Feeling what everyone else feels can be a gift but it can also be paralyzing.
I do wonder if I should stop labeling myself as bipolar. What we think, we become and this has always been my belief. Ironically I’ve not ever put it to good use.
I don’t say that because I am in denial. It is the stigmatism attached that is negative and that in itself weighs on me. I understand that not everyone feels to the extremes in which I do but what about that makes me ill? Or disordered?
I am tackling these types of things on a daily basis as I grow in my understanding of who I am. It is a struggle to feel everything but I am realizing that I would rather this than to be medicated. It’s sad that being thrown into a hospital is the solution for those of us who have yet to set interpersonal boundaries for ourselves.
Imagine if you will… You walk into a room and you are technically “happy”. Suddenly you are hit with a sense of anger and confusion. And from there you navigate around the area and begin feeling feelings of sadness and before you know, you’ve jumped back to happy all within a 30-minute time frame. I don’t care who you are, that’s a lot. This is what I experience if I do not put up barriers.
I had gotten really good at putting up walls to not allow everything to impact me. Slowly I’ve let them down not remembering why I had initially built them. Now….. I raise them which is much easier said than done.
Although I may not understand what is going on, I am fully aware that my life is shifting. As I reread this it jumps all over the place but there is legit sense to it. I just hope I come out on the better end of things. Kinder to myself and more open to others. Right now the fog that lifts is one of pain. I don’t want to be calloused. I want to love. Starting with myself.
Sorry I am posting this so late on this Monday but I woke with a terrible headache which made it difficult to look at a screen. 🙁
So You Know
Hey you fun, question-answering love bugs (don’t ask me..)
You’ve made it back!! I appreciate the participation and I hope your answers give your readers a little more insight into who you are from a non-blogging perspective. Last week we had a pretty good set of questions but not as deep as the first week. This week consists of only one question with two parts.
I like to keep it pretty simple around here and here are a few things to keep in mind while participating:
There are no right or wrong answers… Your answers = Your opinion = Your life
Answer a few or one, whatever you are comfortable with
Pingback to any S.Y.K. post
Use the hashtag #SYK to tag your post
Be real. If you feel a certain type of way, say it. You were asked your opinion 😉 (double dog dare)
A number of questions will be asked. At least 1, no more than 5.
Questions will range in subject from cherries to prostitution.
Participation will consist of you creating a post on your website, listing the questions and responding.
Pingback to any SYK post
Think about this, if you will:
Who are you? And who are you not?
That’s it! I ask that you dig deep. Write a post detailing the things about yourself you would like to be said at your eulogy. Everyone wants to be remembered in a certain way. Are you living a life that you are proud of? And the second part would be the things that you know, wholeheartedly, that you are not.
My Answers to Last Weeks Questions
Do you struggle with your mental health (ie. diagnosed)? Yes. I am diagnosed with occurring illnesses. I am in recovery from alcohol, bipolar disorder, anxiety, and OCD. My symptom is minimal, currently speaking. I went undiagnosed for over 20 years and suffered a great deal from my own decisions. I was diagnosed formally as bipolar in January of 2017 and began medication in September of 2017. You can read the full story here.
What is the most aggravating misconception as it relates to yourdiagnosis? For me and all of my diagnosis, it would have to be that we look a certain way. I am told more often than not that I do not look like an alcoholic or someone who is bipolar. This confuses me but it does make sense because the media outlets and Hollywood have us portrayed as overdramatic, frantic characters who attack others while pulling our own teeth out (not exactly but pretty close).
Is there a history of mental illness in your immediate family? I consider mother, father, siblings and grandparents immediate family and yes, my maternal grandmother and grandfather were alcoholics and I think my Ma could very well be bipolar and ocd. She hasn’t been formally diagnosed but boy does she has some mood swings! Maybe not bipolar but definitely ocd, in my non-professional opinion.
If you could change the stigma surrounding your diagnosis, how would you go about so? I think the first step would be to stop allowing our media outlets to portray any disorder through visual or verbal description. Next would be on a legislative level and lastly on an educational level. If I knew how to implement it I would have already began so this is where my idea has began and ended.
Do you believe that maintaining our mental wellness will ever rank in importance with maintaining our physical health? Why or why not?In the future, after I am gone, I believe so. The world is rapidly changing and the importance our our mental health has seen a significant increase already. I believe our future generations will implement change where it is necessary. I not only have hope, I have faith in our children to construct our society.
Use today to mentally structure your week. Be present and kind to yourself.
Women are so mean to attractive women and in such a pussy-ass (passive-aggressive) way. And I refuse to apologize for saying that.
Dear Women of the South,
If I don’t know you, don’t look at me in disgust. Yes, I am younger but I am much older than you think. Grow up and get over yourself. Putting other women down doesn’t level you up and it damn sure won’t stop your husband from looking either… You’re the one who accepts his behavior so stop walking around with a chip on your shoulder.
And I say pussy-ass because you don’t have the nerve to say something. And what the fuck would you say?
“Excuse me ma’am but I can’t help but ignore the fact that you are supporting my local business and by the way, I don’t like you”…
You just stand there with judgment written all over your face, with your nose in the air.
Try Southern Bitch.
You are not better than me because you are rich. Whoever told you-you were, lied.
I am spending money in your business and you can’t even smile or acknowledge, other than the stalking (thinking I will steal), that I exist?
I’ve been in your establishment more than once. I come quite often. Quite frankly you are rude. I should have known today would be the day, when I pulled up and there was a woman ranting and raving about how terribly disgusted she was because of how you treated her.
You may wanna look at yourself because usually if two strangers have the same negative experience, you need to check your vibe;
Ms. Better than Everyone Business Owner.
An Attractive Woman (that doesn’t want your man)
Obviously this isn’t a generalization for all Southern women. I am a proud, strong Southern woman. The generational gap between women my age and women my mothers age creates a conflict with some Southern women. I can’t speak for anywhere else because I am from the South and this is my experience almost daily with some the majority of white, rich, Southern women. They are judgemental and downright rude. I just want to know who do they think they are? What qualifies them as better?
Can anyone answer that?
I politely (kill ’em with kindness) asked the couple their names so I could formerly address them in my Yelp and Google review but I didn’t bother because once I landed on each site to add my comment, many others had beat me to it.
It wasn’t going to contain nasty language because I have respect but this is my space so I wrote it how it felt.