Life just hurts. Simple truth.
I used to think it was sad but not anymore. It’s another state to survive and learn from, just like the euphorias of mania- or anywhere in the spectrum of highs and lows. Pain not inflicted by life events, trauma or death. Sometimes life just hurts from the moment we open our eyes until we fall asleep -even in our dreams some of us are deprived of feeling pain-free. It fluctuates… behind the glazed eyes we display as we hold tears within… behind our suddenly energetic sleepless persona. All human experience can be traced back to love, beauty and pain. Hate is a distorted love and anger stems from pain. Beauty- what exactly is it? Where is it found? ***
All is painful.
Waking up, going to work, relating to people, getting groceries, being home. Any driving or public space triggers anxiety attacks or paranoia. Suddenly people are overwhelming and I shut down – don’t wanna hurt anyone. Sounds are too sharp, deep or plain loud – both in my head and out. I apply strategies but ultimately my brain has the last word. *** As I let go of the colorful clusterfuck chaos... I finally get it: Beauty is everywhere, even in the depths of this unbearable pain of existence- it’s the ultimate truth in my fragile vulnerability. This life that just hurts: burning every neuron within my brain. This insight only came after I decided not to ignore pain, or look away from it. By acknowledging my pain, I reached a state of acceptance. I saw part of my struggle dissipate. Pain is no longer an intruder, but an experience tied to my journey for reasons I’m not yet meant to comprehend. So, my little bits of energy now focus on trying to live with it- much more realistic than to run away from the inescapable. Pain is beautiful in powerful, horrific ways.
Another crack. Another piece that breaks. Another gate wide open. Hell takes over. A major battle lost_ fleeting protection. Insanity gains ground_dangerous progression. Depression pushes me further along_angry loss of strength. Mania extends its hall into a labyrinth_ playground for this frantic mind _ dark void that keeps expanding. Is it mind or is it matter that will rescue me? Rage, tears, and silence far too long. The flow of senseless sounds, thoughts and voices more loud than ever, taking my breath away. All this time mind-raped and I wonder: just how far deep is this tunnel? How far along am I in the rabbit hole? Fatal descent.
Adjective: proceeding in a gradual, subtle way but with harmful effects. Treacherous, crafty, sly, perfidious. Of a disease: developing so gradually as to be well established before becoming apparent.
Of Bipolar Disorder: An illness I call a condition because even if fleetingly so, the hypomanic/manic highs of euphoria are fuckin’ amazing. However, it is during this time that our prefrontal cortex is shut down and the illness plots against us via electric brain storm and prepares its next attack of depression. Meanwhile, we are making poor decisions because our bipolar brain gave up on us. We take poor care of our bodies, thinking we are superhuman, not eating or sleeping because our manic brain is holding us hostage. We loose friends, family relationships, jobs, etc. Then inevitably, whether ur manic/hypomanic frenzy last months, weeks, days, or hours- your prefrontal cortex s rebooted and depression ambushes you. A death foretold only we didn’t listen. The sound was too faint between all the racing, cluttered thoughts, our flights of grandiose ideas. Pain shoots everywhere and we can barely get out of bed. Our energy is drained in just surviving and faking ‘normal’ and if not possible, like we are just having a bad day. It is then that we see we have been fools, used and discarded. Someone says we need to look at the positive and you are on the verge of snapping their head off because inside you are enraged by your mere existence, because they have no fuckin’ idea of how much energy and effort it takes to just be out of bed, to find reasons not to die, to block out the stupid chatter in your head… However in all worthlessness and shame we keep quiet. Yes, I need to get better at that. You are right, maybe I’m not seeing all the positives in the big picture… Sigh. Another failure at ‘faking’ fine.
naked pain surging through my tainted veins. a vulnerability increasingly hard to bear. mind in captivity glass prison cell. lack of clarity thoughts race and run. bare instincts debate of fight or flee. vast obscurity covers me undone. flight of hostility ideas wake then gone. nude insanity becoming one with me_nude insanity I share mine with thee.
the car moves- but it’s not my foot on the pedal.
i walk but don’t feel it- hollow, empty, numb
an impostor wearing my face
full of nothing but the void
shell_ of_ a_ person
danger in disguise conceals my disgrace
worn out i put on some lace how pretty
the car moves- but it’s not my hand on the wheel
i run but don’t feel the ground- energized, exhausted
my insides pouring out
pain ambushing me from all sides
no_ shell_ of_ protection
a reality subjective… thoughts, sounds, voices, words race each other, clutter and interwine– as time unfolds past the speed of light. polychromatic images, reflections of what used to be, sharp fragments of who I am. life is fuckin’ beautiful and enticing and compelling and i wanna be a part of it. truth is i do not belong.
beautiful i am not.
(mania gone depressed…)
blank expression like a blank canvas to a live painting.
blank stare like a gateway to a life of hidden madness.
-another day in the mindfuckery dungeon of mixed states-
over the rainbow down the black hole she is nowhere
-another time abandoned by the grandiose domme self-
a failure of mine forever stuck in the quicksand of time
speeding at 1099 mph I can’t move strangled by inertia
exhaustion steps aside to this increasingly manic mind
loosing traction of thoughts feelings and reactions desperate
my sanity keeps getting tainted to the point I can’t fake it
-another piece pushed until it broke though not free-
anxiety burns my skin and fucks my logic what will be of me?
I feel worthless sexy energetic anxious depressed paranoid suicidal