|Wordy, wannabe nerdy, mama & g'ma blogging about my journey of health, healing, and life at Human In Recovery on Wordpress.|
Being bipolar, depressed, and anxious, means feeling insane, sometimes acting the same. The thing is, you’re not crazy or lazy, you’re amazing!
You are neurodiverse, your brain is structured differently. You think differently, experience the world differently, and process those experiences differently. Your capacities, abilities, skills, and talents are different than those with neurotypical brains, not affected by chronic trauma.
That doesn’t make you bad or wrong and it doesn’t mean you have to change the things which make you, you, in order to conform.
Yes, medication may be useful, but, it isn’t a cure, because a cure isn’t needed. Think of it as the difference between “brea...
Upon awaking, all seemed well.
Until entering the kitchen, then I could tell.
The tension seemed to swell.
I heard his voice, clear as day,
with tone, forlorn, “I just want to stay.”
“What do you mean? What did you say?”
“Nothing. I didn’t say a word.”
He threw a quick prayer to the Lord
“How do I tell her, I’ve been transferred?”
“Transferred?!?!” I exclaimed.
Both our confusion reigned.
The atmosphere was strained.
He to me, “How did you know?”
Me to him, “When do you go?”
Our moods suddenly laid low.
“I heard you say it, loud and clear.”
I stated, with a little fear.
He stood, and started to come near.
He thought to himself, “This is surreal!”
“What?” I asked, my confus...
I sit here, authentically inauthentic, questioning my automatic resistance to the process of becoming my truest self.
I think it’s called, “being human.”
August Scrawls Day 9: authentic Day 10 automatic.
You captured my attention.
You stopped my heart.
You put my mind under arrest.
You consumed my emotions.
Then, you walked away, leaving the cage open.
Still, I remain your hostage.
Word Prompt: August Scrawls-“arrest”
To those who have supported me with love and kindness
How can only mere words express
Appreciation for your devotion and acceptance of my mess
Never treating me or my experiences as less
Knowing my heart and not judging what I confess
Friends and family do nothing but bless
Understanding my pressures and stress
Love deep and lasting given without duress
I recently made a choice, one which perhaps I should regret.
Well, because part of me feels bruised, broken…shattered even.
The problem with the idea of making a different choice means several things:
• I probably wouldn’t have gotten my writing voice back for awhile.
• I might not have processed, or started processing some things underlying the PTSD.
• My self regard wouldn’t have shifted and grown in a constructive manner.
Do the feelings I’m experiencing now suck?
Sure they do. But, the thing is, turning the switch to shut one emotion off, shuts them all off…at least in a constructive way of feeling.
If I hadn’t had certain experiences outside my control as a...
Sorrow and grief
Pleased and thankful
Angry and crazy
My rational brain tells my emotional brain,
“You’re being ridiculous!”
My emotional brain responds forcefully,
“I’m hurting. STFU!”
RB: “What’s the point of all the angst? It doesn’t change a thing.”
EB: “I’m mad af! STFU!”
RB: “Why do you even care? We knew it wasn’t meant to last.”
EB: “I thought we had more time…time for me to adjust. Leave me alone and just let me be what I am and feel what I feel!”
RB: “But there’s too much to be done. There’s no time. Suck it up!”
EB: “The feeling bag has sucked in so much, it’s torn and leaking. I...