Try and forget all the ways we let ourselves get away

I'm offered to buy-in on some snazzy little trinkets, even a few discounted DVDs, candles for fundraisers, etc. The newspaper ads make a vain attempt to lure me with sale prices on spring fashions. My hospital scrubs and shoes could use an update. And then I see these cuties...

But it doesn't matter. I can't do it. Not until I donate more stuff first. I mean, I DO need footwear.

But...

• There's the woman struggling to feed her two young children while her husband is out working at a job where he doesn't even make $11.00/hour with no insurance. That is their only income and it is far too much to receive public assistance in the way of foodstamps for her kids.


• Recalling the woman who has done everything possible to get a job for over three years after a lay off has finally landed a job at an agricultural nursery. She doesn't mention the searing pain in her feet due to a medical condition that requires surgery to the employer, happy that she has a job, even for four weeks.


• Or the man that cried to me when he was taken to the hospital after being found in the bushes. He had less than seven dollars in his pocket and that was not enough for a taxi ride. He was either homeless or half a step away, indicating that pretty much all of what he had in the world was in a messenger bag slung low on his hip. His remaining option was to walk. With his cane, and a head injury.


• Some stop and ask for directions or general questions when they see me. Often their clothes have many days worth of soil on them, their teeth in various states of decay, hair obviously cut by each other. They debate for what seems to be an eternity at the vending machines when I realize that this one choice must meet the needs of several people. They don't have money for more than a few sips or bites for each.


• The shoes with duct tape are almost as common as those without. Shoes cost money and a pair purchased at a deep discount store will see that duct tape much faster. Patchwork purses with the owner's name written on the outside often accompany a section of PVC pipe modified to be used as a cane.

More often than not I hear snippets of conversations when I'm out and about that are very hard to deal with. On the job, there is more time spent, waiting for the elevators, near patient rooms. People make eye contact, talk to me and I'm always kind in return; that means I hear more than many. At work, I know that if they are at the hospital, somebody is being faced with something not-so-positive. I make every effort to simply see and hear them as I believe that is all anybody ever really wants.

Lately, this is happening closer and closer to home. Two of those examples are members of my family. The others are ones I've seen or heard about. I live in the corroding remains of the rust belt and as each day goes by, I see less and less hope for this area as a whole. Money for basics is gone. My heart breaks to hear someone decline a 60 cent cup of coffee, not because they are frugal, but because they simply don't have it. I can sense it eating at their soul, stomping upon the small amount of pride they had when they walked through the door. It kills me that I can't make it better for them.

Every day I see just how easy it would be to become homeless. Let me tell you, it takes alot less than you might think. I don't know if I avoid spending when unnecessary because I'm conscientious, fearful, or guilt ridden by the things I see all around me.

In summary of self

If you think about it, you know who you are, right? Generally speaking; those things that make you, you. Except when you don't. That not knowing begins to define what you are.

Perhaps it is the sun. Possibly the new meds are taking hold. And maybe, maybe I'm just tired and wanting to give up the fight. But life hasn't been utterly twisted and hateful this past week. Nor have I. And that is huge. I'm still at about 75% of my recent level, but there are those moments where my mind is calm. {Yes, rub your eyes and refocus... I said calm.} Of course I think that is why maybe I've tired myself out and am just giving up. My brain is akin to a playground for Clive Barker* when I'm in these mixed states. It is not something I would wish on anyone. Having been suffering through one for several months now, I'm having difficulty knowing how to conduct myself when it backs off, even a fraction.

There's the tricky part. Not knowing myself, or what to expect from my thoughts, behaviors, actions, and emotions became, and defined, what I was. With that gently fading, I swear I feel lost. I'm treading cautiously but it is safer that way. The brain is one screwy place.

*Is it strange that I always had some sort of crush on both Peloquin and Pinhead?

Babylon

Sometimes when you're circling, a little push is all it takes. Or you can take the plunge and sink right down.

Occasionally life gives you pretty sparklies with one hand and gooses you with the other

Ever notice how when some 'out of nowhere' event happens, it not only takes you by surprise but makes you a bit excited, too? Yeah. Don't let that shit fool you.

Today I ran into a girl (daughter of a previous friend of mine) who noticed me and addressed me immediately telling me how much she missed me. In truth, I miss her too. She was a cool kid and now she's like 16, 17 or something. Anyway. We talked for just a few minutes as she was working. I gave her my number and she said she wants to talk to me ASAP so we can catch up. Then I ask her where she is staying. Haha. Yeah. She says she is staying with her uncle and that the house was across from a local store. Fuck.

Here's the kicker. To me, her uncle is 'the one that got away'. I now have to realize that I will most likely see him or talk to him at some point. I heard that a few years ago he was talking about getting married and I'm just not sure I want to face that. We went our separate ways about a year before I was diagnosed as being bipolar and my life was a living nightmare because of it (bipolar). When I see/talk to him, I'll get to relive what went wrong and why. And I can only blame myself, truthfully.

No matter if he's married, single, whatever; that will only be a part of it. Dealing with remembering one of the best facets of my life crumbling in slow motion will be like dying a thousand little deaths. How do you tell someone that you were pretty much clinically insane at the time? You really can't.

So I sit here and while I am pleased to have run into her, because I do think of her often, I know that I have to keep myself from getting lost in this. No sense in driving past his house in hopes of checking out his car or truck so I can spot him more easily on the road now. Or in parking lots, and set up 'chance' meetings. I can say this now because I'm not manic, nor even hypo manic. I make no deals, though, for when that time comes. Then, I obsess like a champ.

For now, I have some time to brace myself and I suppose that's more than any of us usually get. I know it will be panic-inducing to relive it again - just how awful my life was with undiagnosed and untreated bipolarity. To relive a journey to hell.

But there's a girl. And despite being less than half my age, we have always been friends. She's going through a tough time and I'd like to be there for her. If it means walking on the edge of what I fear the most, just give me a moment to get my shoes.

'The sun is gone, but I have a light...'

Sometimes the most peculiar things can make you the most emotional. Things that you have absolutely no connection with, except, well, maybe you do...

Every year around this time, I get a certain ill feeling that settles upon me. If I think about it too much it's like walking in mud or breathing in the rain; something reasonable but you must be careful to not let it catch you at the wrong angle. Why it seems to have such an effect on me I can't be certain but I have my own theories.

I can't believe that it has been 14 years and I've never committed to any one theory. It just makes my heart heavy. Something, just something about it that I can't seem to shake. One year I was listening to a show about it on the radio and as I was sitting and writing; next thing I'm on the verge of hyperventilating and barely redirect my hand before I plunge the pen into my left hand that was resting on the paper, holding it in place. Yeah, it's that intense. But I carry that level of intensity with me at all times and it comes out when it sees fit. I have no say in the matter.

Granted, I'm a fan but this is more about a connection I'm making between him, the music and molding it to fit my interpretation. In some ways, this has almost made me protective over him, which I find a bit strange. Somehow, I appreciated him more dead; I can't even pretend to get that.

To be sure, much of what I feel is symbolic, reflecting and reminding me of a very important time in my life. Symbolism makes sense; after all, my interest seems to increase every year just about this time. But it's not just that. I suppose it sounds stupid to say, but I think his death got me to look at how he presented himself in life. Somewhere in that haze, the mirror seems a bit too close. Personally, I think he wore it all out there for everyone to see and most took it to be a simple act, not at face value. I think that for as loud as he was made out to be, he was literally suffering in silence. We all have demons, right?

~~ February 1967 - April 1994 ~~

Check out both links (top and bottom). Any theories on his death?

Uh, got milk?

No time to encapsulate, no desire to rehash. Things are wrong all over the place. There are new meds. I hate everything. This weekend I should be able to check in. Until then, I'll leave you with this... a glimpse of the first few moments of a little furry life.

Don't let mom's tongue up the nose trick fool you, she was quietly and steadily lowing the moment she saw us... talk about the evil eye!






We simply came around the corner to check out the cows (I always do at my uncle's) and came face to face (ok, maybe about 20 feet) with a birth that had to have occurred merely a handful of minutes before. I'll spare you to gorey details on how I know that.





Anyway, the open area by the wooden fence was flimsy wire. Although certainly with an electric current, I am not stupid enough to think I could outrun this behemoth, nor am I enough of an idiot to think that said electric fence would deter this mom from protecting her baby.



I'm afraid to call back and ask if this tiny bovine made it. Nature is cruel and I suck at being hopeful. I am still secretly hoping everything is fine in Mooville.

4.6 update: She's doing just fine... ;)