The Guest station where I live is warm-
its nurture cyclical; nature unethical
One may come and go but never stay
Caressing the lips with jagged teeth
It claims the heart, whatever may
Its Bliss is the Y of open arms
The smoky fingers of 7's following
In the shadow of the giving breath
That steals the tracks unfurling
Before the train of Certain Death
Is there a future here I'd like to know
But by the whims that close the doors
His half-glance back tells me "No"
And should that howling train arrive
His hands will be the first to push
And on the rail I'm told I'll stay alive
Friday, 30 March 2012
Monday, 26 March 2012
A Collage of Boyfriends Past
The following is a collaberation of the emails and letters I have recieved from seven different men starting from when I was 17 to now. :P It sound epic, and paints a pretty gruesome picture of me. lol
Dear Opal,
I just can’t do this, my dear Opal, I realize that all of our time together was more or less immoral. You were just a kid. I've attempted to contact you once or twice, here and there, but I failed. I looked up your old number, but it was disconnected. Since then I've pretty much lost you in my memories, never thinking of you again. How you’ve beaten me down each day with that smile. You could never understand the pain, the dread that came with remembering your face. Now that I'm subject to them, I think I may have just been reminiscent of amusing moments without reflecting what talking to you would portend. Thinking about talking to you suffocates me- how can I fly with you if you have no wings? You’re a cement-feathered bird and to quote your song, you loved me dead. You filled my soul with vomit and then asked me for gum. No. I don't want to keep in contact with you. It’s because you’re bad for me, you’re bad for my mental stability and I just don’t think I can be around someone who hurts herself. Unfortunately, my dear Stone of the Lake, I can't see myself as just friends with you. My heart wants to paw at you but I know better. I’ve wanted for so long to be in your sight, to be the one and only one you ever think of, but you shot down at me like a savage beast from the sky and pinned me into a dark abyss. What part of your deep, black soul finds this funny, Oh beautiful Regina? Alas, I cannot be bitter toward the cruelty you have shown me, for you also showed me what love really is- A monster. So, I hope you're doing well, and those around you are as well, despite our meeting being rather a tragedy. Farewell, my dearest Rex.
Dear Opal,
I just can’t do this, my dear Opal, I realize that all of our time together was more or less immoral. You were just a kid. I've attempted to contact you once or twice, here and there, but I failed. I looked up your old number, but it was disconnected. Since then I've pretty much lost you in my memories, never thinking of you again. How you’ve beaten me down each day with that smile. You could never understand the pain, the dread that came with remembering your face. Now that I'm subject to them, I think I may have just been reminiscent of amusing moments without reflecting what talking to you would portend. Thinking about talking to you suffocates me- how can I fly with you if you have no wings? You’re a cement-feathered bird and to quote your song, you loved me dead. You filled my soul with vomit and then asked me for gum. No. I don't want to keep in contact with you. It’s because you’re bad for me, you’re bad for my mental stability and I just don’t think I can be around someone who hurts herself. Unfortunately, my dear Stone of the Lake, I can't see myself as just friends with you. My heart wants to paw at you but I know better. I’ve wanted for so long to be in your sight, to be the one and only one you ever think of, but you shot down at me like a savage beast from the sky and pinned me into a dark abyss. What part of your deep, black soul finds this funny, Oh beautiful Regina? Alas, I cannot be bitter toward the cruelty you have shown me, for you also showed me what love really is- A monster. So, I hope you're doing well, and those around you are as well, despite our meeting being rather a tragedy. Farewell, my dearest Rex.
Wednesday, 14 March 2012
On My Bipolar Disorder
I am Bipolar. Or at least I have been diagnosed with Bipolar Disorder as well as an illness called Emotional Intensity Disorder (More commonly known as Borderline Personality Disorder which is a silly, nondescriptive name that was pulled out of some psychiatric majors ass). EID is "curable" unlike BPD which is a genetic issue that I (note the "I" in the sentence) believe is triggered by something in life. As in, one may have the genetic make up for bipolar disorder without ever actually having it, much like Schizophrenia.
Here is the full definition from Wikipedia:
"Bipolar disorder or bipolar affective disorder, historically known as manic–depressive disorder, is a psychiatric diagnosis that describes a category of mood disorders defined by the presence of one or more episodes of abnormally elevated energy levels, cognition, and mood with or without one or more depressive episodes. The elevated moods are clinically referred to as mania or, if milder, hypomania. Individuals who experience manic episodes also commonly experiences depressive episodes, or symptoms, or a mixed state in which features of both mania and depression are present at the same time.[1] These events are usually separated by periods of "normal" mood; but, in some individuals, depression and mania may rapidly alternate, which is known as rapid cycling. Severe manic episodes can sometimes lead to such psychotic symptoms as delusions and hallucinations. The disorder has been subdivided into bipolar I, bipolar II, cyclothymia, and other types, based on the nature and severity of mood episodes experienced; the range is often described as the bipolar spectrum."
Do you feel knowledgable? Awesome. I'm glad you feel the way you do. I am very glad you have the opportunity to sit there, know how you feel and trust that what you feel isn't delusional.
I have developed something of complex over my diagnoses which has lead me to many questions, many depressions and much more confusion and frustration. Now, I realize that I was already complex to begin with and much of my actions and/or unhealthy beliefs (such as, "If so and so left me, everyone will leave me so I am better off alone.") have been due to my "Illness" and that every word I say and everything I feel could simply be shut down with the comment "Oh she's Bipolar-". I also understand that, as according to societal beliefs and scientific discovery, much of my erratic behaviours and emotions are due to a chemical imbalance and could very well be disregarded as I could very well be experiencing what one would call "Delusion" or "Mania".
The thing is, is that I don't actually believe I am ill. There are times when I have felt so beat down by my moods and the psychaiatric jargon, and the severe levels of stress in my life that I have given in to the beleif that I am just ill and that all of this crap and all of my understandings are just the illness and truly not myself. But when the goings are rough, do you not question yourself and look to outside explanations for reasons you are the way you are? If you have been feeling down for a long time, and find yourself searching for something nearly invisible for so long that you decide "Hey, must be my Thyroid!" and run off to your nearest doctor for answers which are calculated more so by OBSERVATION than experience?
I am not denying science. I am not saying that what the psychaiatric world has deemed knowelege isn't somewhat factual (observations have been made, we can only say that probably yes, this is the problem because it was the problem elsewhere). But I am questioning our need as a society, to slap on a disorder to every person who thinks and feels at a different rate than the average person. And are they even average? Lets look at this graph from British Columbia for example...
Does the percentage of people without disorders or mental disabilities actually look like "the average" ? So why am I being treated as the person who is different?
What I really believe, is that I am normal and that I am gifted. I can see and feel things that others refuse to see or have not the ability to see. I mean this in the same sense that the next door neigbour is gifted in the way that he is double jointed or that Jeff has a gift for automatically understanding math. When I am in a spell of Hypomania- I have no inhibitions or fears, I am not afraid to step outside and play in the snow, I dance, I sing, I play pretend like a child would. I see the beautiful in everything. When I am in a bout of depression I feel all the angst and pain that tremors through the world, I see famine and I see the need for so much change and it almost feels hopeless, I see the dark and I peer right into it and tell it "I'm not afraid of you, I know you, I know your death, I know your trickery, I know the poison that you seep." I see and and want to see the things most people fear. When I am in between and in a stage you call "Normal", I am able to function in the walls that society has created, I am able to call upon my strength and meet any obstacle and make a that judgement based on logic. I can understand how things work scientifically... But more importantly, I can draw upon both of my polarities and see and discover how they intertwine and how whole I am with the understanding of both the light and the dark. I understand that one cannot exist without the other probably better than most (this is not to say that my understanding is one that cannot be matched). Because I have been to both, and I am a frequent visitor- I leave that dark place and I go back to it and I am able to discover new things. I may not understand the storm while I'm in it, but when I am gone and out of it, I feel I have opened up a whole new world to understand.
What makes what you call an illness so much more interesting... is that I feel it has given me an amazing ability to understand and feel what other people are going through in their lives. Whether it be absolutely fantastic or utterly horrid, I do not fear or resent it. I can walk with them and I can understand it- maybe not at that moment, but upon reflection i can match it with something I've felt and know what it is they need or want.
Yes. I understand that there are dangerous levels to which my "illness" can take me- I have been in the throws of suicide, and I have also been so unafraid of the world I've gotten into trouble. As with anything in life, this Gift has also it's consequences and demands a certain amount of control. It demands that I remember there is a proper and healthy way to channel its "powers". So I must keep a sleep schedule, and I must eat properly and I must take extra care to the things that may send me off the grayscale into the black or white which is not easy. But is that not the same with anything? The artist who spends too much time in fantasy may forget reality, and the mathematician who spends too much time calculating may forget that all things cannot be calculated.
What bothers me most of all, is that I am asked to remove those polarities from myself so that I can be a proper, healthy human being. And I have done so for long periods of time, but I cannot express the feeling of utter and complete autonomy and emptiness that comes with removing those parts of me. Without this disorder that has been so heavily placed on me, I lose my ability to write and paint, I lose my ability to understand other people (and yes, I have been told that I become cold in nature during periods of "normalcy"). And while I may function in the world as a citizen, able to keep a job and able to care for things in a logical manner and while I can feel to certain extent as a "normal" person would, I feel I lose something more important to who I am than anything else. I feel like I lose a part that has been engraved into my soul.
So, I ask you, is it really so healthy for me to treat this existence as a disorder and illness and treat it medically as though it's a lifelong infection with medications? I would not give you pills for your sadness, nor would I ever tell you that you were too happy. I would never tell you to stop seeing. Why would you to me?
Here is the full definition from Wikipedia:
"Bipolar disorder or bipolar affective disorder, historically known as manic–depressive disorder, is a psychiatric diagnosis that describes a category of mood disorders defined by the presence of one or more episodes of abnormally elevated energy levels, cognition, and mood with or without one or more depressive episodes. The elevated moods are clinically referred to as mania or, if milder, hypomania. Individuals who experience manic episodes also commonly experiences depressive episodes, or symptoms, or a mixed state in which features of both mania and depression are present at the same time.[1] These events are usually separated by periods of "normal" mood; but, in some individuals, depression and mania may rapidly alternate, which is known as rapid cycling. Severe manic episodes can sometimes lead to such psychotic symptoms as delusions and hallucinations. The disorder has been subdivided into bipolar I, bipolar II, cyclothymia, and other types, based on the nature and severity of mood episodes experienced; the range is often described as the bipolar spectrum."
Do you feel knowledgable? Awesome. I'm glad you feel the way you do. I am very glad you have the opportunity to sit there, know how you feel and trust that what you feel isn't delusional.
I have developed something of complex over my diagnoses which has lead me to many questions, many depressions and much more confusion and frustration. Now, I realize that I was already complex to begin with and much of my actions and/or unhealthy beliefs (such as, "If so and so left me, everyone will leave me so I am better off alone.") have been due to my "Illness" and that every word I say and everything I feel could simply be shut down with the comment "Oh she's Bipolar-". I also understand that, as according to societal beliefs and scientific discovery, much of my erratic behaviours and emotions are due to a chemical imbalance and could very well be disregarded as I could very well be experiencing what one would call "Delusion" or "Mania".
The thing is, is that I don't actually believe I am ill. There are times when I have felt so beat down by my moods and the psychaiatric jargon, and the severe levels of stress in my life that I have given in to the beleif that I am just ill and that all of this crap and all of my understandings are just the illness and truly not myself. But when the goings are rough, do you not question yourself and look to outside explanations for reasons you are the way you are? If you have been feeling down for a long time, and find yourself searching for something nearly invisible for so long that you decide "Hey, must be my Thyroid!" and run off to your nearest doctor for answers which are calculated more so by OBSERVATION than experience?
I am not denying science. I am not saying that what the psychaiatric world has deemed knowelege isn't somewhat factual (observations have been made, we can only say that probably yes, this is the problem because it was the problem elsewhere). But I am questioning our need as a society, to slap on a disorder to every person who thinks and feels at a different rate than the average person. And are they even average? Lets look at this graph from British Columbia for example...
Does the percentage of people without disorders or mental disabilities actually look like "the average" ? So why am I being treated as the person who is different?
What I really believe, is that I am normal and that I am gifted. I can see and feel things that others refuse to see or have not the ability to see. I mean this in the same sense that the next door neigbour is gifted in the way that he is double jointed or that Jeff has a gift for automatically understanding math. When I am in a spell of Hypomania- I have no inhibitions or fears, I am not afraid to step outside and play in the snow, I dance, I sing, I play pretend like a child would. I see the beautiful in everything. When I am in a bout of depression I feel all the angst and pain that tremors through the world, I see famine and I see the need for so much change and it almost feels hopeless, I see the dark and I peer right into it and tell it "I'm not afraid of you, I know you, I know your death, I know your trickery, I know the poison that you seep." I see and and want to see the things most people fear. When I am in between and in a stage you call "Normal", I am able to function in the walls that society has created, I am able to call upon my strength and meet any obstacle and make a that judgement based on logic. I can understand how things work scientifically... But more importantly, I can draw upon both of my polarities and see and discover how they intertwine and how whole I am with the understanding of both the light and the dark. I understand that one cannot exist without the other probably better than most (this is not to say that my understanding is one that cannot be matched). Because I have been to both, and I am a frequent visitor- I leave that dark place and I go back to it and I am able to discover new things. I may not understand the storm while I'm in it, but when I am gone and out of it, I feel I have opened up a whole new world to understand.
What makes what you call an illness so much more interesting... is that I feel it has given me an amazing ability to understand and feel what other people are going through in their lives. Whether it be absolutely fantastic or utterly horrid, I do not fear or resent it. I can walk with them and I can understand it- maybe not at that moment, but upon reflection i can match it with something I've felt and know what it is they need or want.
Yes. I understand that there are dangerous levels to which my "illness" can take me- I have been in the throws of suicide, and I have also been so unafraid of the world I've gotten into trouble. As with anything in life, this Gift has also it's consequences and demands a certain amount of control. It demands that I remember there is a proper and healthy way to channel its "powers". So I must keep a sleep schedule, and I must eat properly and I must take extra care to the things that may send me off the grayscale into the black or white which is not easy. But is that not the same with anything? The artist who spends too much time in fantasy may forget reality, and the mathematician who spends too much time calculating may forget that all things cannot be calculated.
What bothers me most of all, is that I am asked to remove those polarities from myself so that I can be a proper, healthy human being. And I have done so for long periods of time, but I cannot express the feeling of utter and complete autonomy and emptiness that comes with removing those parts of me. Without this disorder that has been so heavily placed on me, I lose my ability to write and paint, I lose my ability to understand other people (and yes, I have been told that I become cold in nature during periods of "normalcy"). And while I may function in the world as a citizen, able to keep a job and able to care for things in a logical manner and while I can feel to certain extent as a "normal" person would, I feel I lose something more important to who I am than anything else. I feel like I lose a part that has been engraved into my soul.
So, I ask you, is it really so healthy for me to treat this existence as a disorder and illness and treat it medically as though it's a lifelong infection with medications? I would not give you pills for your sadness, nor would I ever tell you that you were too happy. I would never tell you to stop seeing. Why would you to me?
A poetic Rant on Societal Bullshit By the Delusional
What I want to feel
Are the intense, the frightening,
the passionate
The swooping of the eagle
The tight clamp of his beak
Forcing the eternal slumber
But a devastation follows
Sickly with gritted words
And hollowness thereafter
Telling me to push the end
I could not sleep
For wanting less of it
I could sleep too long
For wanting more of it
It has a consequence
Of illness and erratic behavior
Crush the logical confines
Betray the Sequence of Science
You expect me to believe
My nature is a disease
Make me swallow your Blindness
I would froth at the mouth
And Pound you like insect
But the insect knows more nature
Than you could ever hope to understand
I am fire
You call me delusion
I am free will
You call me illusionary
Raping my soul
You could not know
What I can see
Is a treasure the romantics longed for
What I can see
Is the wonder, the world from new eyes
I see the sparkle of the snow
The growth of the trees
I am perplexed each day and caught in wonderment
And you tell me
That this is a sicknes
Because you
Behind your luxury
your fame
Your science
Your fact
Have simply forgotten.
Dare you call me delusional-
When it is you, who is ignorant?
I can only say
Without the vibrations of poetry:
Medicate yourself, Fuckhead.
Are the intense, the frightening,
the passionate
The swooping of the eagle
The tight clamp of his beak
Forcing the eternal slumber
But a devastation follows
Sickly with gritted words
And hollowness thereafter
Telling me to push the end
I could not sleep
For wanting less of it
I could sleep too long
For wanting more of it
It has a consequence
Of illness and erratic behavior
Crush the logical confines
Betray the Sequence of Science
You expect me to believe
My nature is a disease
Make me swallow your Blindness
I would froth at the mouth
And Pound you like insect
But the insect knows more nature
Than you could ever hope to understand
I am fire
You call me delusion
I am free will
You call me illusionary
Raping my soul
You could not know
What I can see
Is a treasure the romantics longed for
What I can see
Is the wonder, the world from new eyes
I see the sparkle of the snow
The growth of the trees
I am perplexed each day and caught in wonderment
And you tell me
That this is a sicknes
Because you
Behind your luxury
your fame
Your science
Your fact
Have simply forgotten.
Dare you call me delusional-
When it is you, who is ignorant?
I can only say
Without the vibrations of poetry:
Medicate yourself, Fuckhead.
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