Being alone…gets old sometimes.

Wolfette1 Comment

Being an introvert, human contact isn’t something I actively seek out. Not saying that I don’t like being around my friends or family, but there’s only so much interaction I can take before I have to leave the room and seek quiet time for myself. It’s like I have to recharge. 
Sometimes, it gets lonely, but I will always treasure my solitary time.

When i met you, I had warned you. Said, flat out, people…mostly men, scare me. I have never once been touched with soft hands, or spoken to in a calm voice.

But you,  you draped your warmth over me like a fresh, morning dew. Light, soft, calm and comforting.

I imagine your hands, crawling all over my skin, grasping strands of my hair, your arms wrapped around me.

You shared yourself with me last night, for the first time. I want to keep your secrets tucked inside my mouth, hidden underneath my tongue. I’m careful not to let you spill out of me, too afraid that I will write your name all over my blank pages.

I want you to be my secret, yet i want to claim you for my own. You’re like a treasure chest i dug up on a far away land,  i want to put you on my ship, take you far away from there. To some place safe, with me.

But I can’t,  take you away from where you are. You said to me, you have voices, demons inside your skull; trying to break you, take you down. I don’t want to pull you into the darkness I’m drowning in, but I can’t help but try to save you.

You’re the one who said you wished you could save me, take me away from here, but maybe we just need to go together. Run far away. Maybe not now,  maybe not forever, but just for a little while.

We could sit and be, just you and me. Our nightmares and demon’s would have to wait until our vacation was over. They’ll be waiting at the gate for when we get off our plane, to drag us back our separate ways.

One little moment is all i want, to sit with you and hold your hand, tell you secrets i have never told. For you make me feel I’m not so alone, i treasure my solitude, but I’m still so lonely. I’m just glad you’re only a phone call away most days. You make me feel as if i can be alone, without being lonely. You understand my need for silence,  and you respect it. But you still know when to come back.

I don’t feel sick anymore.

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I caught a whiff of your old cologne today,
the scent embedded itself into the old coat I used to wear,
the one I packed away in a box,
in the back of my closet.

Memories came swirling back into my brain like a rainstorm,
the night we met,
drunken walks around the field.

The day we moved in together,
piling boxes next to our bed.

The fights we would have,
you screaming at the top of your lungs, throwing anything you could at me.

That night I locked myself in the bathroom when you came at me with a knife,
I knew then I should have left you.

The day I caught you kissing her,
underneath the sheets on the same bed.

The very last day I ever saw you,
as I placed that final box in my trunk,
you were trying so hard to make me stay.

I threw the coat in the trash today,
you stained years of my life with your poisonous love,
I can’t afford to let you get me sick again.

🐾

I used to describe you sweetly.

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I used to curl up at your feet, not out of subservience, but you always said you got cold feet.

I thought that if things could be easier for you, you’d make things easier on me.
I was wrong.

The first time you hit me, there were knuckle shaped bruises on my stomach for days.

I would bind my own chest up tightly, blame the pain, the bruises, the breath, or lack there of, on that.

I molded myself into such a small shape, all jagged and angular pieces.

We never fought, or rather, I never fought back.

One night, you clasped your hand around my neck so tight, I saw white. I’d never felt so close to the stars.

There were whispers, accusations that were sewn into my skin, of horrible things you would say I had done. I carried my heartache close to my chest, cradled it, like a little child.

When you finally released me, I was able to breath again. Clean air, didn’t feel right within my lungs. It felt like poison, I wanted to scratch the blood out of my own veins.

For years, I couldn’t claim this monster inside me, I hid from it, like playing hide and seek. I would pretend I was misremembering the events, as if I wasn’t truly hurting.

Now I know, what you chose to do, wasn’t my fault. And loving myself today, isn’t a mistake.

i am a chur ar ghaiscíoch…

Wolfette2 Comments

My shoulders feel heavy, weighted; carrying you around inside my chest has aged me beyond my years. I need to rest, to find a spot and collect my breaths you’ve scattered. Your memory is taunting me tonight, again. Your dirt is under my nails, your blood is caked into my skin. I wanted to speak with you today,

We set each other on fire, you burned brighter, while I burned out.

I don’t miss you often enough to want you back, but I miss you hard enough to cry every time I remember you.

I remember the day you died, the phone call, rooted me to the floor for the rest of that week.

You’re that incomplete thought I have every night in my dreams.

Χριστός Ανέστη! 🐾

Wolfette3 Comments

So happy Sunday funday pups! It’s Greek Easter today! And before I head off to visit me granny I figured I’d give you a poem!

There was something in the way you looked at me last night, that reminded me of a lion. Not a wild lion, king of the jungle type; no. But a lion born in captivity. One who has never known the heat of the Serengeti, or tasted the hot, fresh blood of freshly caught prey. Your eyes, were glassy with confusion. Almost as if, you knew, this was not meant to be your home.

I wanted to tell you there were places I could take you. Fields you could run in, and trees to nap under, but behind that cage of unbreakable glass, you couldn’t hear me.

I felt my fingers trace through your mane and all I wanted was to teach you to roar.

I awoke from this dream to my empty bed again. I dream of you every night now. I have never wanted someone so much to be there when they have never been there. I miss you and I haven’t even met you.

Oddly enough, I closed my eyes against the darkness, and felt a hand close around my waist. It felt so familiar, made me feel safe. I drifted off to sleep last night only to wake up this morning…alone.

If you are the lion, I would be your lioness. Both of us trapped, inside a cage. We know we don’t belong here. I feel cold, empty. We could run, you and me. Run far away and never return.

I want you to sink your teeth into my flesh. I know I’m not really your lioness, I was just your afternoon meal.

There’s a beach somewhere, I’d love to visit.

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I cried,
and he held me.
I told you I felt safe,
wrapped inside your voice box,
and you pushed me away.

We’re too alike,
you and I.
We are made of the same thunder and lightening storms.

The sea swells inside your rib cage,
they want to drown me.
And for once in my life,
I would welcome the chance.
An opportunity to swim in unexplored waters, just the sort of danger I could get hooked on.

But his warmth,
I was not expecting.
His palpable charm,
I wanted to feel it in my lungs.
Drink him in, slowly, like whiskey.
But smooth, like fine silk.

You said, too much.
He said, not enough.
He wants more. You want none.

To be held the way I imagine you would hold me, is everything the girl I used to be, dreamed for.

But to be spoken to the way we speaks to me, is everything the woman I am now, asked for.

I’m unsure if I have something to hold onto; but maybe I’m willing to wait on the beach, safe from your monstrous waves, to see if he comes to me.

Palm Sunday/World Bipolar Day.

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Happy Sunday Fun Day pups! It looks like spring outside, but feels like winter! Brrr!

So, today is Palm Sunday…whatever that means. I’m…not really religious. Sorry! Anyways, Tomorrow…Monday, is World Bipolar Day.

I’ll have to work, but i want to write this little blurb today. I happen to be living with Bipolar myself, along with a few other mental health issues. I’ll get to those in a later blog…maybe. I had been diagnosed with Bipolar at a very young age, which I guess I can consider myself lucky for. It afforded me the luxury of having quite a lot of help handed to me, which is something a lot of adults suddenly diagnosed with Bipolar Disorder, are not. They are usually left to fend for themselves and hope they’re lucky enough to find the right kind of help.

But yeah, I know several people in my life who have been diagnosed with some form of Bipolar tendencies, to varying degrees. I’ve seen a lot of breakdowns, had several myself. Been on and off several medications for years. As of now, I am not on any medications, however I do have an open prescription for Lithium Carbonate at my local pharmacy; just in case I need it. It’s nice to know it’s there.

Most days, I feel very in control of my disorder. But there are times when things just, aren’t right. I’m pretty good at seeking help nowadays, when I was younger, not so much. I would try to handle it all by myself. For years I was drowning in this insufferable depression. I had gone so far as swallowing a whole bottle of excedrin in my senior year of high school. A few years later, when I had hit that low once again, I had swallowed a whole bottle of vicodin. Obviously I didn’t die, but I was sick for several weeks after both incidents. Looking back, I regret thinking that would solve anything. I haven’t been that low in almost three years and I’m proud to say I don’t think about swallowing my whole medicine cabinet anymore. That’s not to say I don’t have bad days. I do. Lots of them. But I have been able to put most of life into perspective for myself. I have a job, a car, a phone, a bed, food in my fridge, a roof over my head, clean clothes, and Roger. When I bring that up, people always give me funny looks. But it’s true. Roger gives me a reason to live. Gives me a reason to get up everyday. He depends on me, that’s a wonderful feeling. To know there is someone who depends on you. His existance hinges on my existance.

Every time I feel like my life doesn’t matter, i remember the first day I met him. He was so litte, so scared. He’d never seen stairs before. He was terrified of every little sound, too scared to even eat anything. Now, he wakes me up at the absolute ass crack of dawn on the weekends, and makes sure my ass is out of bed on time during the week for work. he doesn’t care who i was in the past, what i did, or said. none of that matters to him. he loves me. and needs me. he honestly keeps me alive. it’s helped me start living a better life for myself. helped me start being kinder to myself, my mind, my body.

everyone needs someone like that in their lives. it doesn’t have to be a person, it can be a pet! but everyone needs someone who would miss them if they disappeared. that helps me get through tough days.

Okay, well anyways… Being Bipolar is hard. People look at you differently when they learn of your disorder. Most tiptoe around you, as if you’re going to spontaneously combust any second. Which sucks. I can’t even begin to tell you how many friends I’ve had to explain to that, my diagnosis doesn’t actually change who I am. I’m the same person I was before I told you I was Bipolar.

I’m not really sure where I was going with this…but yeah uhm if anyone reading this, is living with Bipolar, please know there are going to be people everywhere who don’t understand.. but you are worthy of love. you deserve to be here. people on this earth love you, just the way you are, and would miss you if you suddenly weren’t there. it does get better, easier and you will find peace. if you need to seek help, please…please do. you matter to someone. if you are feeling alone, sad, depressed, angry or suicidal, get help. medications can help you. never feel ashamed of taking them.

if you are someone who knows/loves someone who is Bipolar, please understand that patience is a virtue and we appreciate when you are gentle with us. sometimes, all we need is someone to make us a cup of tea and let us sleep on the couch for a day. other times, we may need you to drive to our house at 3am just to cry and scream incoherently at you. we do feel bad when we do stupid things, we regret making bad decisions and when we apologize, please don’t snap at us. we usually are very sorry. sometimes…that’s not always true..but most of the time we mean what we say when we apologize. never underestimate the power of a text message, even if it’s just to say hey. we sometimes just need to know someone is thinking about us.

if you or someone you know/love is exhibiting depressed or suicidal tendencies please call:

(US) 1-800-273-8255

or go to:

http://www.suicide.org/suicide-hotlines.html

or if you are outside the US:

http://www.suicide.org/international-suicide-hotlines.html

And please know…someone out there loves you. Very much. And you are needed here.

Being Bipolar is not a death sentence. People can and do live healthy, happy and fulfilling lives. Your diagnosis does not define you. Always be strong. And I’m always here if any of you need to talk. I don’t have all the answers, frankly I don’t have many…but I can listen and try to offer what I can. You’re not alone, ever. I love you. You are important to this world.

Alright…well I need to end this before my laptop dies. I love you pups. So much. Stay safe, stay warm. Eat well. Drink lots of water. Get some rest.

xxx