Immersed Sorrow (Poem)

Immersed Sorrow
Reflections of lost spirit stare back within a broken mirror
so deathly reticent and abounding with unmitigated deception
Every last inviting pulverizing wave of the unrelenting ocean
seems to draw another forgotten victim beneath its undertow
Ruminating on the ever-changing ebbs of cycles and emotions
forever renouncing any chance to save a drowning bygone soul
@Touching Madness

An Illness is an Illness…Help Support All Equally

A sense of self is so hard to realize and comprehend when your soul is lost and confused. The mind…no matter how hard you try and fight just does not recognize your triggers once you slip. When this happens, I am thankful I the small support system I do in place. It has not always been this way…but I have fought and fought to get to this point. Totally alone and desolate with feeling like I had no chance of survival…I found one friend. This friend helped me find one more friend and then one family member. Now I have about 5 people I can count on after 15 years. Is that sad that only 5 people understand? Yes…but I’ll take what I can get. But not everyone has this opportunity for many years.
I have watched and witnessed too many friends and friends of friends lose their lives that could have been saved. Lives that mattered as much as anyone else’s! Fucking lost because no would take the time to help. The willingness to reach out or educate themselves for someone who already had their hand stretched out. In a society that simply doesn’t fully understand and how easily an uncomplicated gesture of faith and support would save so many countless lives.
Mental illness is no different than any other illness besides the stigma attached along with it. Cancer check. Diabetes check. In fact, I have a severe case of diabetes and get unconditional support for that and then when people find out I am bipolar and PTSD they turn their backs. There are so many conditions where this is true. It’s time for people to step up to plate and take care of everyone damnit! No one deserves to be isolated because others are afraid of a condition because of a ridiculous stigma attached because of very very small percentage. Let’s help everyone! All illness’s…all the sick people…everyone that suffers alike.

One Last Goodbye (Poem) *Dedication 

Silently fade into a tranquil mist my friend
your heart so pure, but in the end, a mind never spared
the unforgiving maelstrom never really silences pain
this time arrogating one of the incredibly special ones
Memories of saving my sanity when it had otherwise vanished
never jaunting alone with enough fortitude to guide us both
regarding you as an infallible warrior capable of surviving all
by way of desolation, rage and utter loss of identity always a smile
Even angels are deprived of their wings sorrowfully left plummeting
the signs are misconstrued, the tears not noticed until it is too late
another casualty of a malady that has taken so many without warning
somehow, I wish I could have reached out to you as you had done for me
Discerning and understanding, but ultimately never really accepting
a promise to each other broken, that can never be mended
but in consummation all I yearn for is that the incessant suffering has ended
conclusively I have to believe is that my protector is finally rescued herself

@Touching Madness

The path of ruin that mental illness leaves 

Today I lost a very dear friend. I only met her once oddly enough. But even with that said, I had known her for 18 years. We talked frequently over the years. First it was religiously and then it was off and on. But no matter how much time passed, we would always just pick up like not a moment had gone by.
There is a lot more to this story though. When I was a lot younger, I was not diagnosed as bipolar quite yet. I was experiencing a lot of anxiety and depression and trying to reach out to anyone who’d listen. My work was suffering and my family and friends just did not understand. No one got it! No one wanted to make the effort to understand. I turned to self-medicating almost every night. Drinking and drugs were my best friend. I was in a very dark place. I was the one who usually reached out to help others, but I just was not capable of this at the time. Through all her own issues, she set them aside to try and help me over and over again because she had been battling these issues for longer than I had and she understood.
She pushed me to the point that I actually started to seek out professional help. Again, through all her own personal problems she showed perseverance and strength that I did not I did not have to fight. I started an anti-depressant and an anxiety medication. I continued to spiral out of control. One night I drank too much, took to many drug and mixed all this with my bezos. We were on cam and talking on a mic. She sat there and watched me begin to plummet. She begged me for my number or my address which we had not exchanged yet. She was able to finally get me on the phone. I could not understand much at this point. She stayed on the phone yelling at me to stay awake as I crawled across the floor to try and find help. The first thing I saw was my three-year-old daughter standing in front of a window with the sun rising. I had been up all night abusing myself. She looked like an angel. This was pretty much the last thing I remember. Somehow either my daughter or I managed to get help in time. Apparently, an ambulance rushed me to the hospital where I lost pulse and they used charcoal to once they were able to save me. From this point on I always looked at my friend and my daughter as angels. My friend became my protector from that point on. Always looking out for me through my constant never-ending struggles. My diagnosis as bipolar 1, my terrible behavior, my catatonic depressions and the person I leaned on when until others begun to come around and understand. She always provided the courage I needed and instilled in me the knowledge and the fight I needed to see another day. She made me see that life was worth fighting for.
From that point on we continued to be each other’s support over the years. She fought I’d be there for her. When I was facing insurmountable odds, she was there with words of wisdom and a smile. We always seemed to drift apart, but always found a way back to each other as good friends do. But after 18 years, as everyone does, time just seemed to distance us more. We just began to lead our own lives. We always stayed in contact. But it was never quite the same. We always talked on and off, but I never was the friend I should have been. I didn’t notice her struggles like I should have. She continued to try and always see mine, but I just brushed them aside. I was doing better and I feel like I took advantage or never appreciated what she did for me all those years, 18 years! Recently we had started to talk here and there a little bit more frequently, but it kind of seemed like it used to be. Just good friends from the past. I was not picking up signs like I was able to in a split second in the past. I know it was not my fault, but I will forever feel somewhat bad for that after all those years of her being such a good friend to me. I don’t even know how long honestly how long she had been suffering in this current condition.
Tonight, I found out that she took her own life by taking an overdose of pills. Bipolar in the end had claimed another victim. A strong one at that. Someone that had been so positive and fought relentlessly for so long. Did it just finally widdle her down and consume her? I will never know. But I will miss her dearly and never forget her because of what she did for me. Have I struggled since? Yes, endlessly! Suicide attempts, self-medicating, constant mood swings…but in the end, I have always looked back after each episode at what she did in some way and it always settles me somewhat.
What has it been, a couple of hours since the news was passed to me over Facebook of all places! I am heartbroken. I have not shed a tear yet. I have no idea why. Shock? I am sure it will all come boring out at some point. I was somewhat hypomanic early tonight, but in a second, my world was turned upside down.
My heart goes out to anyone that suffers from bipolar, depression, anxiety, PTSD or any other form or mental illness. Any form of relentless suffering that we go through is a constant fight and it never seems to end. We battle it for a lifetime and there never seems to be enough support or understanding. And in a moment’s notice, we lose yet another loved one so unexpectant, so dear to us. I wish I had the power to cure everyone plagued by such darkness and anguish or at least turn it onto myself. I want to be the strong one, the warrior, the one with the courage, the smile and the compassion that my friend had. I miss her so much already.

Anguish (Poem)

Thoughts beyond rational explanation
only utter confusion takes over creating unyielding havoc
the horrific screams from within cannot be controlled

A dreadful life never ceases to silently crumble
completely unaware to the ignorance of society
the damage is permanent and cannot ever be repaired

Implacable pain engulfs an uninhabited spirit
a conclusion is the only way out of all the misery
it is unconditionally indistinguishable to all my masks

One can only aspire for the day when they decisively succumb
all this abominable agony can conclusively subside
the sufferer can finally find some serenity from all the inner demons

With dissolution a tortured soul can stop scuffling with all the fiends
finding what has ultimately been sought after for a lifetime
eternal peace

@Touching Madness

Hearts of gold

All my life I witnessed two women wear their hearts on
their sleeves unconditionally. As a child I sat back in
amazement how both my grandmother and my mother
could so unselfishly sacrifice so much for other people.
Literally putting anyone and everyone before themselves.

As I grew older I realized that I was seemingly the exact
way for whatever reason. I was drawn to others and concerned
for others no matter the circumstances. My importance never
came into play, similar to both of them. I called them
“protectors” and I never really thought of myself in the same
term, but I guess that is what I had become as well.

They never stopped. It was like it was a life mission. There was
never any deterrent. My grandmother lived till she was 98 years
old and continued this until the very late years of her life
unremittingly. Now turning 70 years old my mother appears
to be continuing this legacy. It’s strange to see it shape and watch
it last for so long withstanding tragedy and heartbreak but without
end of the compassion and sincere heart.

For a while I began to believe that it was going to end with me?
I felt like the black sheep. So much depression, mania, untold
hurt and pain brought unto others. It took me many years of soul
searching, researching into my family history and then
conversations with my mother to come up with the knowledge
to bring me back to where I needed to be again. I suppose I never
left this place, nothing really changed, just had to find that inner

My struggles with mental illness were not my own, they were
theirs as well. What I had gone through they had gone through
many of the same battles themselves. They grappled with their own
spots of indifference before finding their own clarity just as I
have. Now I know that yes I am sick, I will always suffer, but
like them I am now confident that I will also be able to show
the empathy and true nurturing to anyone and everyone. Three
generations and going strong.

And now is it time for a 4th generation to continue this legacy?
I used to stand back looking up in awe at what laid out before
me. Now I have two children. And what amazes me is I am
looking at the future and I see my grandmother, my mother and
myself. My children both wear their hearts on their sleeves
doing whatever they can for all in any way they unselfishly and
assist others.

The thing that amazes me the most is that aren’t we the ones
that are always supposed to be needing all the help? What I
have seen is three generations and now four sufferers of bipolar
disorder who have hearts of gold and regardless of mental
illness, are still willing to put aside personal issues regardless
of ourselves to take care of others because that is just what we do.

Don’t ever let anyone tell you that individuals with mental illness
are not capable of doing anything. Whatever you put your mind, heart
and soul is achievable.

Failed Poetry Creativity!

Kind of an example of how I start to write poetry…just a bunch of shit written down and whola I throw it together. Read my other stuff if you want to see what it turns out like. I am bipolar. Currently in a mixed state. My thoughts go back and forth so quickly it drives me nuts. So I was trying to write about this state. But no damn luck! Anywho…this gives you the general idea of how my nonsense starts and develops into the other crap. Just one insight how one man writes…odd or not. Also gives a look into bipolar for those interested. Basically…I should leave my writing to when I depressed…annoying!!!! Grrr….

Random thoughts: 

Protect you both from all the things that have already weathered 

Just make all the sadness go away 

Riding the roller coaster of ecstasy  

Dispersed through continual ancestry   

Protect all those touched from this madness from me 

Boundless euphoria…better than any drug… 

Scars that run so deep from an unthinkable past 

Countless mistakes that have hurt so many 

Regretful words and actions 

Trying to learn from all the myriad of mistakes  

Trying to explain the reason for self-medicating 

All the battles lost again and again 

Completely numb to the world 

At constant ever changing life 

Wearer of masks to fit any occasion 

Not knowing your limits 

Endured all the constant fear 

Looking back at my life tells so many stories of 

Pools of unending bloody tears 

Days and days without any need for real sleep 

So so lost…so so much pain that won’t end 

Suicidal ideation 

Hate this constant frustration…agitation…anger…elation…and sadness