Friday, May 27, 2005

Strength

Something I read this morning: “The ultimate strong person is someone who can overcome himself…True strength lies in inner fortitude, the ability to say no to oneself as well as to others, and in the realization that life's great struggle is often against one's own weaknesses and imperfections. Strength, therefore, is not so much a measure of muscles. It is a measure of self-discipline, restraint and conscience.”

I thought that was interesting. It’s definitely not my intent to make my blog “preachy”, but reading this reminded me of a scripture that is important to me:

For our struggle is not against flesh and blood, but against the rulers, against the authorities, against the powers of this dark world and against the spiritual forces of evil in the heavenly realms. (Ephesians 6:12)

So, how does this relate in my head?

I think all of us as humans, and especially those of us with Bipolar Disorder and other mental disorders, fight our weaknesses every day. I know I do bigtime. It seems like I am my own worst enemy. I’ve tried everything – moving across the country, medication, therapy – but no matter what I do or where I go, there I am. Those “evil forces” do a number on me. I lose the battle all the time.

I fight with wanting to drink and drug myself into oblivion, cutting and burning, suicidal ideation, and lots of other detrimental stuff. Satan plants that crap in my head. It’s an internal fight. Some of those things may be external, but the fight is inside of me. Decisions, decisions, decisions….What a bitch free will is!

Depression is a biological occurrence. We have no choice over it. However, it brings with it a lot of conflict of the mind – Can I make it through this? Can I live like this? Should I self medicate? Should I go to the doctor? Should I take my medicine like I am supposed to? Sometimes the disease is so overwhelming we don’t even have the choice of getting out of the bed….I’m not talking about those times. I’m talking about the rough times before the breakdown…the times we are still able to hold on.

Bipolar disorder includes the manic side of life which gives a few unique decisions to existence. Being manic can be fun. It’s hard to decide to go to the doctor when you’re feeling REALLY good, I mean, what can be wrong with that? Right? It’s something you have to learn. You have to recognize when things are going to spiral out of control. Sometimes you will fall, I know…but I believe that if we are to make it, we have to fight the battle the best we can. I’m learning every day.

I think that working on being strong is strength itself….as long as you’re really trying. Resisting temptation, like wanting to cut yourself up because you think you are the scum of the earth or you need to feel something, is strength. I know I personally don’t have this strength myself, without help from God. 1 John 4:4 says that God has already won the battle against the evil forces. If you are a Christian, then God lives in you…and that means YOU’VE won the battle if you depend on Him. Writing that is easy, living like that is not….all I know to do is ask for that strength, and ask for help to remember that the battle is won. It’s won…we just have to realize it.

Anyway, that’s my thought of the day….learning our weaknesses, making the right decisions, having faith that there’s something better in store for us, depending on God & not ourselves for that strength….Writing these words helps me to learn more & hopefully I can transform from that experience ;) Maybe having this written where I can refer to it will help when I am struggling.

Thursday, May 26, 2005

Capturing Thoughts

I’m still reading Noonday Demon: An Atlas of Depression by Andrew Solomon. It’s a LONG and fairly clinical book, so I have to read other stuff at the same time so I don’t get too bored with it.

I’m reading about the treatments of depression, and it was talking about talk therapy. I’ve never had much luck with therapists. I’ve seen at least a dozen in my lifetime. Don’t get me wrong, it wasn’t all for nothing; some therapists have helped in different ways. A few have given me “homework” that has helped me see thought patterns I have that lead to self destruction. However, I seem to always get stuck in a rut with therapists, they all start sounding alike, giving me the same answers as all the rest, and it seems when I get to that point that there’s no point in seeing them anymore...but that doesnt mean that it didnt help.

To be honest with you and myself, I have always been a “glass half empty” kind of person. Since I was a kid one of my mom’s favorite phrases has been “don’t be such a pessimist.” I think my pessimism has been a security mechanism. If you expect things to be bad, then you’re pleasantly surprised when you’re wrong. In the past couple of years, I’ve discovered that no one should live like that.

Once, in a church service, the pastor was talking about “capturing your thoughts”. If you recognize that a thought you are having is negative, he said, you should try to capture it and get rid of it. I know this sounds too simple to actually work, but I’ve had some success with it.

In Noonday Demon, the guy was talking about the results of medication alone, psychotherapy alone, and the results of the two combined. He talked about how working to change your thought patterns can have the same result as medication, but that people who did both, therapy & medication, had the most success.

Can you train your brain to not be depressed? Not totally, of course, but I think it helps a lot to try. When I am thinking things that are doing me no good, I try to remember what my pastor said about capturing your thoughts. I try to visualize putting that thought in a glass jar and putting it away in some strange glass jar storehouse. I may not always be able to think something “good” after I do that, but it honestly helps. To be honest, just having that mental picture makes me feel some sort of weird accomplishment…just the fact that I could recognize the thoughts or feelings were bad, makes me feel like at least I’m doing something about it.

Of course, the capture thing might not work for everyone, and it may sound stupid, but I thought I’d share it because it might help. I don’t do the talk therapy thing anymore. I just take medication, but I do advocate talk therapy. You have nothing to lose by doing it. Therapists can’t tell anyone what you say if you’re over 18. I think it is VERY important to find a therapist you like though, and one who is at least on the same level you are intelligence wise. If you have to go to 20 different ones before you find someone, then go to 20. Doing the therapist circuit helped me as much as it was ever going to help me - that’s the only reason I don’t do it anymore. It seemed to lead me to the discovery of how my mind works and I guess that’s the whole point of it.

Wednesday, May 25, 2005

Hope

Where there's hope, there's life. It fills us with fresh courage and makes us strong again. We'll need to be brave to endure the many fears and hardships and the suffering yet to come.
-Anne Frank

Emotional Maturity

I read once that if someone experiences a great trauma or starts using drugs & alcohol at a young age, they stop growing emotionally at that age. I don’t remember where I read that, and it may be total BS, but I thought it was interesting.

I was thinking about that when I was reading The Catcher in the Rye, I guess because Holden’s younger brother died when Holden was young. It seemed to me that Holden wasn’t as emotionally mature in a lot of ways as most 16 year olds are.

Trying to think back on my own life, I think this theory is possible. I had crap go on when I was really young & I started drinking somewhere around 12. Am I emotionally 12 years old? Hmmm...it’s possible, I suppose. I’m extraordinarily sensitive, my feelings are hurt pretty easily, and I don’t handle confrontation well. Sometimes I act like I’m 12, I like to play around, and I’m pretty goofy.

I don’t know that all of that necessarily means that I stopped growing emotionally; I’m sure that you have to grow some to handle adult life. I just think that the idea is interesting. I know that I carry around a lot of the same junk I did when I was 12, and I think I handle it better now…but that comes with time, and I think that in its self means that you have to mature.

I do feel like I’ve come a long way since my days of self medicating. So, the theory may be a bunch of crap, but its something to think about.

Monday, May 23, 2005

A Conglomeration of Thought Fragments

This may make no sense at all. I have a lot of stuff jumbled in my mind. Let’s blame it on the new medicine, that’s the easiest thing to do.

I read The Catcher in the Rye this weekend. It was recommended to be something I’d like by a friend. I definitely did enjoy it. I related to it a lot. If you’ve never read it, this post really won’t make sense….but I’ll try my best to explain things.

The main character in the book is a kid, Holden, who is 16. He’s having major difficulty growing up…definite Peter Pan Complex…and he feels detached from the rest of the world. I relate to this feeling, even now at 25 years old. He speaks of how “phony” everything is. I still feel like that a lot of times.

I’ve always had trouble with the concept of growing up. I’ve never understood why things can’t be simple. I had to grow up pretty early in life, and I think my complex really stems from not being able to be a kid long enough. I had a lot of trouble when I graduated from high school. I didn’t want things to change because I had finally found my niche. I had friends that I’d known all my life. The thought of having to find new ones in college scared the hell out of me. I was never able to do it either. I don’t have one friend from college. Having to be a grown up never scared me, I was a bit used to it long before most kids my age….it was just the fact that I HAD to be that sucked….its hard to explain. I guess I just wanted everything to stay the same as it was and never change, much like Holden wanted everything to be like it was in the museum…frozen in time.

I share Holden’s feelings of being detached from the rest of the world. I’ve never really felt like I belonged anywhere….even during my most comfortable years in high school…I still didn’t belong.

Now – hang with me here, I’m going off the deep end – my feelings of being detached are a bit more serious than Holden’s. I have times of feeling dissociative, where I feel detached from even my own body. I cut myself a lot when I feel like that. As the Ben Harper song goes, “Please bleed, so I know that you are real, so I know that you can feel the damage you have done. Who have I become? To myself I am numb. I am numb. I am numb.” I can’t explain it any better.

–I’m going even farther off the deep end here- Once upon a time that seems like forever ago, I was tripping on Acid. I had this acid trip where I saw things melt…like a couch and a picture on the wall….and in my drug induced hallucination, I convinced myself that there is a third dimension to the world (at least I can blame this on illegal drugs)….I convinced myself that the third dimension was the only place that was real. Everything else was a dream. I spent about a year trying to get back to that place….but all I ever got from then on was spiders coming out of the walls and weird crap like that. See, that’s where my brain cells have gone!

The acid trip thing really added to my idea that everything was “phony” as Holden put it. People never really said what they thought, everything was a conspiracy, no one really liked me, etc. etc. Sometimes I still feel like that….that the world is a play that Im not part of.

Now, I don’t have a clue why in the world I’d be diagnosed as being bipolar! ;) The Catcher in the Rye & an acid trip…only in MY blog!

On the Brighter Side of Life

I had a pretty good weekend. I took Friday off because I had a Dr. appointment, and I just needed the rest of the day off as a "mental health day". I got some house work done (not nearly enough, but some at least) and I started reading The Catcher in the Rye. I just chilled out and read all day.

The Dr. appointment was interesting. I'm going off of my anti-depressant, Lexapro, and starting a new one, Effexor. At the moment, I am taking 1/2 the dose that I was taking of Lexapro & 1/2 the dose that I'll be taking of Effexor. Its supposed to take a month for the Effexor to really kick in, but Ive been feeling alittle jittery...a little nauseated....some anxiety...but I dont know if thats the Effexor or if its because the Lexapro was cut. I have to take the 1/2 doses for 3 more days, then no more Lexapro and the Effexor goes up. I hope it works, Im sure you can tell by my posts the last month or so that all has not been well in bipolar land.

Friday night I went out to eat with a friend. That was cool, I havent been out in forever...other than a couple of bike nights, which I dont count as going out to eat because the food sucks. Anyway, it was nice to hang out. I dont think friends realize how much of a difference stuff like that makes to a person like myself thats alone most of the time. I had a good time & the food was good....I had left overs the next day & that rocked (no frozen pizza for a change).

I did nothing Saturday. To tell you the truth, I was alittle down and out...not sure why, but I didnt do much other than sleep and finish reading The Catcher in the Rye (which Im going to write about later). I painted some, which felt like an accomplishment. I finished a painting that Ive been working on for a while now. I havent had the energy or motivation to do anything like that in a while.

Yesterday morning I was a little weird. I woke up early because I couldnt sleep good. I was really jittery...had kind of a nervous shakey thing going on...felt like I was going to puke. I came home after Sunday School and laid down a while. I couldnt sleep tho. I got up and went to my grandparent's house. My mom, step-dad, brother, his girlfriend, my cousins, and of course my grandparents were there. My mom and my step-dad scuba dive & they let us play with their gear in the swimming pool. It was fun. I came home, laid down for a mintue, then went to church. It was music recognition night and church and the little kids sang...thats always funny.

All in all it was a good weekend. It makes me feel like maybe I am climbing up the incline again and thats a very good thing.

Thursday, May 19, 2005

Red Scream

Something has been on my mind for the past few weeks, so it seems it is time for another coming out of sorts.

I’ve cut & burned myself since I was in high school. I’m not sure why I feel the need to share this now, but maybe talking about it will help someone who happens upon this while doing a little blogging. It’s a weird thing to talk about, but I think its important because many people that do this believe they are uniquely strange and alone, and many family members of people that self injure don’t know how they can help.

I haven’t hurt myself in a few months now. That’s amazing to me because it has been such a big part of my life for the longest time. I’ve been battling a lot with it lately because I have been somewhat in a depression for the past month. So far I have made it through without doing anything stupid. I hope I can keep holding on. Its hard.

I guess I just want to talk about what exactly cutting & burning does for me, how I attempt to distract myself when the urge arises, and what I think helps in the form of support.

To explain the relief that the pain brings is hard. It’s a very intimate thing to discuss. I guess the first question I need to answer is why in the world I would do such a thing. It may not make a lot of sense to people who don’t do this, but I will try to explain it the best I can. Most of the time when I have the urge to cut, I am totally overwhelmed with thoughts or emotions. I have so much going on that I try to ground myself with a physical feeling. It can also be a self hatred kind of thing. I’m not sure why I have moments of despising myself, but it happens. Other times, I feel like I have no emotions…no feelings at all, and feeling the pain makes me feel like I am real. It’s like painting a picture of the internal pain in a physical form. I am overly sensitive. I try to put up a tough front, but that’s not really who I am. I think that has a lot to do with it. It’s a coping mechanism…not a healthy one, but one nonetheless.

Ok, here are some things I try to do to escape my thoughts when all I can focus on is cutting or burning : The thing that works best for me is getting out of the house. I need to get out & go somewhere to get my mind off of obsessing on hurting myself. Sometimes painting or writing helps, but lots of times I don’t have the motivation to do either. I also pray a lot and try to imagine Jesus holding my hand. He gives me strength to get through it a lot of times, I just have to be willing to listen and accept the strength and not give in.

How can someone help a person who hurts themselves? That’s hard for me to answer, but I’ll try to think about what helps me. Most of us don’t like to talk about cutting, it’s a shameful thing, its embarrassing, but sometimes just having a person to confide in that will listen helps enormously...just don’t push it. If the person wants to talk, let them, if they don’t, don’t push it. It helps to have somewhere to escape to and it helps to have someone to help focus your mind on something else...even just walking down the road with someone that’s wanting to cut can help...the longer you can get them to avoid doing it, the more likely it is that they won’t give in. If I can distract myself for an hour or 2, I can usually make it through without doing it. Don’t ask to see the cuts or burns…theyre personal. If someone feels comfortable showing them to you, they will. It’s a trust issue. That’s about all I can think of. Theres a good bit of info on the internet about how to help.

Anyway, I feel like Im really exposing myself, but if I can help someone, I’ll do whatever I can...and writing here takes my mind off of wanting to hurt myself...so I guess writing about it can be a good or bad thing.

Later.

Wednesday, May 18, 2005

Self Harm

I found this article here: http://www.mcmanweb.com/article-118.htm
This article first appeared on Suite101.com - Mental Illness in Families and Society, the author is Amy Hillgren Peterson. She wrote a book called Elusive Butterfly about her life with bipolar disorder. This hits close to home. I'll write more about it later.
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In my travels on the web and as a volunteer who answers emails for Mental Health Sanctuary, I have come across an increasing number of people, mostly women, who self-harm. It is estimated that up to 3 million Americans injure themselves, double 1997's figure. I believe it is the increased knowledge of mental disorders, including personality disorders, and their origins that have caused more people to come forward and seek help for their self-injurious behavior.

Shelly, a young woman from Alabama, writes, "When I would cut, I would feel relieved, and when the blood was flowing it was like my pain was being released, it was like it was the way my body 'cried'. I often cut in situations that it would then be possible for me to get attention from others around me in. This I have come to know was my need to be nurtured. It was also about my need to control others and my environment when I was so out of control myself. I did not even know that what I was choosing to do in cutting was a) a choice and b) a result of my feeling vulnerable and out of control."

Much has been written about borderline personality disorder, and the traumas that lead up to it. Cutting often begins in adolescence. In the past, the typical "cutter" has come from an abusive or neglectful home, or has lost a parent at a young age, or has been raped or sexually abused.

Shelly began cutting herself in college. "Firstly, I began to cut as a means of soothing my aggravated feelings for which there was no connected feeling and virtually no conscious understanding for years. I began to cut around the age of 17, when I left home and was in College. I was living in a dorm and was extremely stressed and unable to cope with all of the people I lived in close quarters with.

"I cut, usually with razor blades and there were times where I would break glass and basically gouge myself with it. Many times the latter efforts required stitches.

"When I would cut I would be so stressed, so agitated, and feel so overwhelmed and helpless, though for years the only 'feeling' I could identify was ANGER, I knew I was angry and that I was very agitated.

"I didn't know that I was as detached from my feelings and indeed myself as it turns out I now know I was.

"I was not able to cry. I was not particularly into journaling. I would not talk to people about my problems. If I was forced to talk to anyone I would lie about stuff. Half the time I wasn't sure what was real and what wasn't. I had no idea how to be personally responsible for myself, my feelings, my pain or how to meet any of my own needs. I used people and I hurt people and I hurt myself."

Shelly gave up self-injury on her own. She writes, "I thought about what I should do to feel better. I was feeling very impulsive and having many many impulses to 'act out' majorly. But, I kept crying. Finally I was sitting there talking to myself and what I ended up saying that was the precursor to much change was, 'Why do you want to hurt yourself some more, again, YOU HURT ENOUGH ALREADY' And with those words I got up and composed myself, got on my bike and made sure I made it home safely. This in retrospect was me beginning to get in touch with all of my pain and grief, looking inward instead of reflecting all that was going on inside outward to the world around me.

"I believe that we all live so much closer to the awareness of what we need and what we need to do for ourselves then we often realize. The answers were inside of me, and they are likely inside of you right now too. Remember, if we want to achieve different results, we have to make new, different, healthier choices.

"I did not ever cut after that day again. The night I just described was a fall night in 1988, and I was 31 years old. It was a very big beginning."

A treatment program for self-injury, thought to be the only specialized, inpatient program of its kind, is Self Abuse Finally Ends (SAFE) in Berwyn, Illinois. There is no coddling. The program rejects common notions about how self-injurers should be handled -- with restraints, sedatives, and constant supervision.

In an article appearing in the February, 2001 issue of JANE magazine, cofounder Karen Conterio says, "We don't what patients to find the child within. We want them to find the adult and move on."

Self-injury scares family members. A growing number of teens who are still minors are placed out-of-home by parents who are afraid of them, who do not understand the behavior, and who issue an ultimatum to stop the self-injury or not come home.

Rather than share shocking, grisly tales of their self-injury, SAFE Alternatives therapists believe such talk incites and glorifies self-injury and prohibits such conversations.

I have received numerous emails from young women whose self-injury relates to their untreated or undertreated bipolar disorder.

"I was desperately depressed," Caroline writes, "but my thoughts were racing such that I couldn't keep up. I had just been hospitalized for depression and my meds were changed. I don't know what happened but I went for a walk in the cold and snow. I stopped behind a bridge where I could think. I took a pocket knife out of my pocket and started running it up and down my leg, outside my jeans. I slowly moved it so the sharpest point of the blade was against my calf. As I moved it in slowly and the blood started rushing down to my shoes, I started to feel relief. I twisted it slowly, and unexpectedly it slipped and I stabbed myself up to the hilt."

Terrified, Caroline threw the pocket knife into the creek below and started walking, no limping, toward the hospital several blocks away. By the time she got there, her temperature had dropped to 94.8 and she had paled from the loss of blood.

"I don't think I will do that again," she says, "I will call a therapist, write in a journal, something...but it scares me that I got so much relief from the cut and the bleeding."

While Conterio from SAFE Alternatives says, "we think that self-injury is not a disease, it's a choice," most mental health professionals see it as a symptom of borderline personality disorder, depression, or another mental illness and struggle to treat it effectively. Didactic dialogue therapy, at the edge of treatment for borderline personality disorder, has been used with some success. Also, developing and using self-calming activities helped Shelly stop self-harming.

She writes, "Coming to understand myself, developing my own identity and coming to accept myself for who and what I am has helped me not only stop all self-harming behaviours but it has also helped me to be able to relate and better connect in a healthy way to others without devaluing them, without putting them on a pedestal and without seeing them in a black or white, good or bad way. When you can accept yourself, you will be kinder to yourself, you will learn to love yourself and you will then be able to accept others for who they are...You do not have to self-harm to survive. "

With balance between better coping skills and choices, and treatment for the underlying mental health disorders, there is hope for the millions of people who self-injure.

Monday, May 16, 2005

The Television Predicament

this may sound strange, but I lived months without television....somewhere around 5 months or so...and it was great. I've been trying to figure out why I feel so flat. I am sure that meds have something to do with it. I havent had a creative bone in my body since starting Zyprexa...but honestly, I think TV has a lot to do with it.

With tv in my house, I get nothing done. I am somewhat of a Law & Order freak, and there are few hours out of a day when you cant find a Law & Order re-run....but really, thats all I like to watch. I'm just not a tv person. Im thinking about turning my cable off again. The only problem with that is my internet connection. I dont think you can have a cable modem without having cable tv.

When I didnt have tv, I painted more, I wrote more, I read more, I did more house work....I found other things to do.

Maybe its time to just unplug it.

Psalm 91 (I need a reminder)

He who dwells in the shelter of the Most High will rest in the shadow of the Almighty.
I will say of the LORD, "He is my refuge and my fortress, my God, in whom I trust."
Surely he will save you from the fowler's snare and from the deadly pestilence.
He will cover you with his feathers, and under his wings you will find refuge; his faithfulness will be your shield and rampart.
You will not fear the terror of night, nor the arrow that flies by day,
nor the pestilence that stalks in the darkness, nor the plague that destroys at midday.
A thousand may fall at your side, ten thousand at your right hand, but it will not come near you.
You will only observe with your eyes and see the punishment of the wicked.
If you make the Most High your dwelling - even the LORD, who is my refuge -
then no harm will befall you, no disaster will come near your tent.
For he will command his angels concerning you to guard you in all your ways; they will lift you up in their hands, so that you will not strike your foot against a stone. You will tread upon the lion and the cobra; you will trample the great lion and the serpent.

"Because he loves me," says the LORD, "I will rescue him; I will protect him, for he acknowledges my name. He will call upon me, and I will answer him; I will be with him in trouble, I will deliver him and honor him. With long life will I satisfy him and show him my salvation."

Saturday, May 14, 2005

How I Feel

Main Entry: an·he·do·nia
Pronunciation: "an-(")hE-'dO-nE-&, -ny&
Function: noun
Etymology: New Latin, from 2a- + Greek hEdonE pleasure -- more at HEDONISM
: a psychological condition characterized by inability to experience pleasure in normally pleasurable acts

Friday, May 13, 2005

Bipolar or Bichronic?

Here is an interesting article I found at
http://www.mcmanweb.com/article-100.htm

How would you describe having bipolar disorder to a stranger? This is how I would put it:

Bipolar is the equivalent of being stuck in bumper to bumper traffic in a race car. The world is simply too slow and people too dull-witted to accommodate you. The initial advantage over one's fellow man inevitably gives way to frustration and occasional rage. Sure, at first you experience the exuberation of weaving in and out of traffic as you leave the world behind in your rearview mirror, but now there are more cars, all closer together, backed up for miles on end. Your engine is revving hard, but you find yourself banging your head against the dash in utter despair because you are desperate to pop the clutch and floor it, but all you can do is hopelessly idle and suck other people's fumes.

Or it can be the very opposite. This time you are the one standing still. The mind, once engaged in a certain activity, finds it impossible to switch off into another one. One finds oneself staying in the shower until the water in the tank runs cold or staring off into space as if in a trance. As for getting out of bed, forget it - one is effectively bound to the mattress.

We may associate bipolar disorder with mood swings back and forth from mania to depression, but in truth the major characteristic of this illness is its capacity to bend time in ways that even Einstein failed to comprehend. When everything is going right, the optimum ratio of their time to your time is something like one to two. You can think faster, react faster, and produce faster. If I were a batter facing a pitcher, I would be able to see the seams of the ball coming at me, and calculate the trajectory of the object as I leisurely brought my bat around in anticipation of a satisfying smack.

Ah, the manic high, that satisfying smack.

But things never stay the same. Inevitably, the clock speeds up or winds down. In speedy mode, this time as a batter I swing at the ball way too early, but I have time to swing at it again and yet again. "What's the matter with you, ball!" I rage in a white heat. "What's taking so goddamn long?" By now I have completely forgotten about the ball as I take out my anger on the bat, the ground, or, heaven forbid, the person nearest to me.

Nothing goes right in this state of time. Every rock, every tree, everything God has placed on earth has turned against me and me alone. People conspire to make my life miserable, computers find new ways to throw up error codes, numbers and their values change right before my very eyes, and being placed on hold is enough to reduce me to tears.

But then we have those time standing still moments - those times in the shower and under the covers. Yet, time also stands still in the midst of feverish activity. In another piece, on the act of writing, I noted: "When I'm in full flight there is no time and space. The sun takes its leave, booming music falls mute, and the steaming hot cup of tea by my side is stone cold when I pick it up a minute later."

Walking into company in this frame of time can be an out-of-world experience, for you are there, completely in your own moment, but not theirs.

So what state of time will it be today? Forget about the terms manic-depression and bipolar. Let's instead give this thing a name that truly represents its characteristics - bichronicity.

Yes, I am proud to say, I am bichronic. I experience the full spectrum of time, from warp speed to standing still. In the past, I never knew which state of time I would turn up in, day to day, minute to minute. This tended to make my life somewhat unpredictable. I recall as a law student kicking the pants out of the slickest lawyer in town and in other situations being unable to respond to a simple question. I've gone from recluse to life of the party to social embarrassment, from hyperproductive to plain lazy, from being totally on top of the situation to being completely out of it.

These days, my medications tend to hold my time in check and make my life more predictable. Sure, I would love to have my optimum time back, but they haven't invented a pill that can keep it in place forever. I still have my still-time, which is a great advantage when I write, but is my bane when I try to get out of bed. Thankfully those frightening warp speed times have largely receded. Still, learning to live on other people's time requires a bit of adjustment.

All in good time, though, all in good time

Monday, May 09, 2005

Dreams & Scars

Money buys medicine
And hollow things
But no matter how I try
I can’t buy love or peace
You tell me to take care of myself
But I see photographs
And I’m dying inside
Dreams of being in arms of strangers
And angels
Never makes the fear subside
Ended up with scars
When it was over
Something in me died
How can you rebuild the walls
And it tears me up
But everybody cries
sometimes.

Sunday, May 08, 2005

How Do You Keep Love Alive?

By Ryan Adams, off of his new cd Cold Roses

Lord, I miss that girl
On the day we met the sun was shining down
Down on the valley
Riddled with horses running
Crushing them with flowers
I would have picked for her
On the day she was born
She runs through my veins like a long black river
And rattles my cage like a thunderstorm
Oh my soul

What does it mean?
What does it mean?
What does it mean to be so sad?
When someone you love
Someone you love is supposed to make you happy
What do you do
How do you keep love alive?
When it won't

What, what are the words
They use when they know it's over
"We need to talk," or
"I'm confused, maybe later you can come over"
I would've held your mother's hand
On the day you was born
She runs through my veins
Like a long black river and rattles my cage
Like a thunderstorm
Oh, my soul

What does it mean?
What does it mean?
What does it mean to be so sad?
When someone you love
Someone you love is supposed to make you happy
What do you do
How do you keep love alive?
When it won't

How do you keep love alive?


fish

Thursday, May 05, 2005

The Clan of the Transformation Impaired

Well, I must say that if the polar opposite of suffering is boredom, Im not suffering at all. I’m pretty bored.

Boredom seems to kind of lead me into depression. Boredom to me is also lack of emotion. I either feel a lot of things (and am not bored) or I feel nothing (and am seriously bored). If I’m bored and have nothing to do, I seem to focus on myself and how I “need to be doing something” to be a worthwhile individual. I tend to end up mulling over painful things that make me unworthy of everything…happiness, love, the air I breathe…

What can pain be transformed into? I can transform it into artwork or some sort of writing…what else? I think pain can be transformed into compassion for others…maybe you can help someone else because of the pain you’ve felt.

If pain was not felt or forgotten, think how weird the world would be. It would be kind of freaky if no one felt any sort of pain…like some weird movie or something. I think if you’ve forgotten the things that have hurt you, it isnt able to shape you into the person you’re supposed to be.

Pain isnt going away. Certain things are going to stick with me forever. I guess you just have to figure out a way to survive it and use it. That’s the hard part…surviving and transforming…Both require some sort of energy, some hope, an outlook that the future is going to be better and that you are going to be useful in sort of way at some point…and that’s hard when you feel like you are worthless, that life is too much to bear, and you feel like the pain will never let up… I have a new name for people like myself : The Clan of the Transformation Impaired.

Obviously, some people are better at transforming pain that some of us. Can you learn to do this? Is there a secret to it? …a lot of us fail…almost daily…at coping…and some of us even fail at surviving. Whats the secret?

I don’t have an answer, but here is how I survive when the pain is so heavy that an early exit seems appropriate: 1) I have to remember that someone loves me…even if I cant think of a human that really does, I have to trust that God does. 2) I have to let go of trying to sort out my mess myself and let go of it. 3) I have to remember that I am here for some reason that I may be totally unable to imagine at the moment. I try to remind myself that the pain Ive experienced makes me who I am and cling to that iota of hope that who I am may be just what someone needs. 4) I pray for strength that I don’t have

Maybe the better you understand that life is all about transforming your experiences…..the better you become at actually doing it?

Something to think about....

Heres something I read today that I thought was interesting. Im going to write more about it later, but it struck me that I should share it & see what people think...its from Noonday Demon...

"the polar opposite of suffering is boredom....I believe that pain needs to be transformed but not forgotten...not obliterated"

Hmmmmm.....(thats my non-commital response to everything as I've been told).

More Later....

Monday, May 02, 2005


Prayer

Cracked

The light creeps in
Through the crack in her soul
Reaching, pulling her out
Of the darkness that swallows her whole.
When your eyes are closed,
Its easier to see
Anger that mulls and mortars your feet.
Until the light comes
And takes it away
You are able to distinguish
The night and the day.
See through the crack
Grasp hold of the light
Toss and turn fighting
The darkness of night
Comfort is there
There is peace for a bit
And love fills the walls
In the void of the pit.