Tag Archives: self-discovery

Grateful for Gratitude

A few weeks ago I decided to start a gratitude journal.  Instead of getting caught up in the highs and lows of my bipolar disorder I figured I’d redirect my focus and look at the good things working for me in life.  There was just one problem; I didn’t count on something getting in the way.  That something is borderline personality disorder.

In addition to my bipolar disorder I have a daily struggle to keep myself balanced because of my BPD.   In short, having borderline personality disorder means that I have a hard time living a life of balance.  It is my disorder inside a disorder and it can make life very complicated for me.  BPD is the reason I often overreact to any given situation and have ongoing unhealthy relationships and thought patterns.  I typically only see life in terms of black and white not realizing that life is full of areas of gray.  I tend to fly off the handle at seemingly benign situations and my interactions with people are often based on pure emotion which, in and of itself, is quite detrimental to living life on an even keel.  Borderline personality disorder can also make it hard for me to balance my emotions and react appropriately to them.  For instance, I can get happy about something good happening to me and instead of just being content with the situation; I may go out and spend money that I really can’t spare as a reaction to it.  If something upsets me I may go into a deep depression and start toying with thoughts of self-harm or even suicide.  Often when a relationship is unhealthy or toxic I may still try to keep the relationship going because; in my thought process, some relationship is better than no relationship.

Earlier I said that this is my disorder inside of a disorder; let me explain.  Bipolar disorder is characterized by intense highs and lows, mania and depression, light and dark.  Well borderline personality makes these instances even more intense. I often suffer from extended periods of anxiety and I have trouble with major bouts of low self-esteem and overall self-loathing.  The mania and depression of my bipolar disorder are made more intense as a result of my BPD.  Already being overly stimulated, borderline personality disorder can make me appear like the Incredible Hulk when it comes to emotions.  One minute I’m fine and the next minute, after seeing a disturbing story on the evening news, I’m a wasted pile of tears and despair.  I know, this may sound extreme but that’s the nature of borderline personality disorder.  BPD is a constant struggle to maintain emotional equilibrium and avoid unhealthy situations and relationships.

I say all of this to make the point that starting a gratitude journal was more of a challenge than I ever thought it would be.  Because my view of reality is often skewed, it’s hard for me to be mindful and find things to be grateful for since I’m always in an extreme emotional state.  This being true, I was even more determined to be able to use mindfulness and find things in life to be grateful for no matter how small or mundane.  Even though mentally I tend to be in a state of flux, I have to realize that if I can compose myself and focus I’ll be able to see that there is just plain good in life.  I’ve decided that I will be grateful despite my diagnosis and I’m going to start that journal no matter what.

 

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Back At It

Bipolar disorder can be a bitch, thus the reason I haven’t posted anything to my blog since last July.  I was doing great and the ideas were flowing and I loved seeing the results of my productivity and focus and then, BAM, without warning; nothing.  It was like all the potential and creativity that I had in me just dried up and flew south.  Frustrating does not begin to describe the feeling of sitting down in front of the computer all set to peck out my next great revelation only to find that all the thoughts in my head were a garbled mess of nothingness.  I wanted to write, really I did, but nothing would happen.  I would wake up in the morning with the mindset that today would be the day and, just as quickly as it came; it was gone, back to the endless chasm of emptiness.   I ranted, I screamed, I cried, I did it all from one end of up to the dark side of down but nothing would make the ideas or expression come to fruition before my eyes.  I couldn’t understand what was happening.  I had been on a roll and I was so proud of myself.  I had endless reserves of gumption and I enjoyed what I was doing, I had the upper hand against my mental illness.  I had ‘mastered’ bipolar disorder and I vowed bipolar disorder would never again keep me paralyzed and confused and lost in a sea of uncertainty.  Hell, just looking at my blog I knew that I could beat this beast.  Surprise, surprise I couldn’t have been further from the truth.  That’s not the nature of bipolar disorder and that’s really not the way it works.  Even with all my reading and researching I didn’t want to realize that I would forever battle with bipolar disorder.  For a minute I believed that maybe it had gone away to the furthest recesses of my mind to be stored as an afterthought.  No.  Bipolar disorder will forever be my Achilles heel and I’m going to have to get to a place where I’m OK with that.  Having bipolar disorder doesn’t make me any less of a person than anyone else and the pitfalls that come with it don’t make me a failure.  I just have to work a little bit harder at life than some people and, actually, that’s OK.  That just strengthens my character and enhances my already engaging personality.  All I have to remember is that I have bipolar disorder, it doesn’t have me.

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Perseverance in Doubt

All of a sudden, out of the blue, as a seriously messed up thing I woke up with no desire to write or create.  Really, I woke up yesterday morning and it was like a horrible grey cloud had descended upon me taking all of my artistic vibes and creative juices with it.  I have to admit that more than being frustrated, I was afraid.  For a moment I was scared to death that who I am at the core was fading away.  I thought to myself, this can’t be happening to me, I’m an artist.  I was absolutely distraught and beside myself the entire day well into the night.

At around 10:15PM I was still thinking about my plight and it hit me; WRITE.  Yes, I didn’t feel like writing and it finally hit me that this was the exact opportunity to write.  As I sat watching ‘Richard Pryor Live on the Sunset Strip’ trying to figure out what I had a taste for as a late-night snack, I found my inspiration.  As I wrote I tried to figure out the reason for not wanting to write or do anything creative.  The first thought I had was that my bipolar disorder was getting ready to take me down into a bit of a depression.  I did a quick self-evaluation and realized that my bipolar disorder had nothing to do with it.  As much as I wanted to be able to blame my slump on something, I couldn’t blame it on my mental illness.

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Well, crap, I thought, what the hell is the problem?  I still couldn’t figure it out.  I’d write then pause, write then pause, write then pause; I did this for nearly an hour.  Then it hit me.  My drive hadn’t gone anywhere, I’d just overwhelmed myself.  I realized that I had been overthinking the Blogging 101 assignment for day four as to a target audience for my blog.  I’d never thought about a specific target audience for my blog.  I write because that’s what I do and I enjoy sharing my life and my art and poetry with other people.  Now I may target a specific audience based on a certain blog post but I just consider my target audience anyone who likes poetry, short stories, relating to my struggles with bipolar disorder and the like.

Something else that I realized in the brief time I thought I couldn’t write was that I have an issue with people judging me.  I was worried about what other people might think about me when I talked about my target audience or what they might think of what I do as a whole.  I had to get past this and not worry about what anyone may say about me or think about my blog.  I had to stand up for myself and realize that my blog is my blog and what I do should not be dictated based on what I think someone else might or might not think about it.  I had to realize that I can’t please everyone and if my blog or blog posts are liked by a certain audience; fine, if not that is also okay.  All I’m required to do is write and share.

Once I got around all of this self-doubt and apprehension I was able to go ahead and finish the assignment without a problem.  I’m proud of what came out of this hiccup and if my story helps someone else I’m happy.  If no one reads it that, too, is fine.  Whatever audience I touch through my art is a plus regardless of what audience it may be.  This is who I am and that’s all that really matters at the end of the day.

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In A Manner Of Speaking

Wrap me in your voice

and

caress me with your words because

you

stimulate me

and invigorate me

and

your lips

pour forth knowledge that

excites me

and

gets me wet to the touch with juices

flowing full of that intellectual ecstasy that

you have placed inside of me

just

by

being

you.

The inflection of each syllable that

you speak

has me weak as you run over me like fresh water

emanating from deep within the earth where

Wisdom takes her form and manifests on each

divine breath you breath.

How smooth each phrase you speak that

brings me to the peak

of orgasmic oration and I

spontaneously erupt in prose.

What is it that lies so deep within thee

that brings me to

illegal elevations of illuminated alliterations

as if I am in a trance caught up in the stance

of your natural brilliance.

The mantra that reverberates in my sacred parts

each time you

start to speak

puts me in a state of higher learning and

because of my intense yearning

I open wide to receive your speech

as you teach me

how to open my eyes to the reality

that for many a century

has been covered in lies.

Mesmerizing does not begin to explain

what I feel when you

rain

down on me with all your intoxicating facts

and this is what attracts me to all that makes you

you.

The sound of your voice resonates within my head

making me high on the vibe that you bring to the

table and

whenever I am able

I seek out your

heat because you feed me in a way

that sustains me for days on end

with your sultry delivery.

The serpentine movement of your tongue and lips

through the dense forests of metaphorical machinations

of our language is so heady and I am always so ready

for what it is that you plant in my psyche

that pushes me deeper and deeper into your character

only to find that I want more.

Here in this world of conversation

you

constantly arouse my imagination

with your ideas

and I come away

FULL

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Twisted

Maniacal musings manipulate my memory
making me
morbid
and
mad
while myriads of multiple mental messages
massacre me mightily
sending me
looking, lurking, leaning, laughing
losing the last
little life
leisurely loaned
leaving me lonely
looking
and lusting at lofty
promises
pouring
pulsating precipitously
placing premonitions inside
pointedly
pondering pulchritudinous
proliferations
placidly though painstakingly speaking
searching
sometimes slowly satisfying
subliminal sexualities
stemming and seeping secretly scorching
sensual sections of my senses.
Alone
almost always allowing
alternative ambitions
autonomy
to tenderly assuage all angry accusations
while accepting all my attributes
absolutely
Finally feeling
fabulously fresh finding fantastic flowers
floating flamboyantly forth
moving me forward feeling ferociously the fire from forever
Blissfully bohemian before
born blinded but better branded
believing the best but still bemused by
brown-skinned beauty
Lustful
luscious
lips, legs
loving
living a lifetime left over
now
legitimized
letting looks lull me languidly, lazily, luxuriously
leisurely, loftily
back to the light

 

 

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