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    Poetry for healing #poetryforhealing


    It came out of nowhere in the prime of my life, an illness - rare, prognosis unknown, would cause me much strife.
    I went through the stages of grief, getting stuck in denial brought me temporary relief.
    I was out of control but no one would notice, I was good at pretending I had a life of bliss.
    I covered up all my pain with alcohol and trysts, food and travel - I did whatever I wished.
    Reflecting on it now I had a death wish, almost elated this disease would bring me what I missed.
    Peace and love were always out of reach, for those in my life didn’t know how to teach.
    Now I understand the direction I was going, looking in all the wrong places without even knowing.
    I’ve awaken from my unconscious slumber, now I’m living in a state of awe and wonder.
    Could it be I’m grateful for my disease as it has guided me to a life I please?
    # poetry

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    “I lost a baby. I was 14 when I didn’t give my first boyfriend consent….

    I lost a baby. I was 14 when I didn’t give my first boyfriend consent. I was 10 when my cousin started repeatedly molesting me. I lost a friend to alcohol poisoning and was with him the night he died, this person would’ve been my brother in law. My mother was an alcoholic and has been verbally abusive, narcissistic, and victimizing herself my entire life. She told me she should’ve aborted me and that I’m the reason we marriage with my father didn’t work. My dad was never emotionally present, he didn’t know how to be. I practically raised myself. My ex boyfriend was controlling and verbally abusive and tore down every ounce of confidence or self esteem that I had left. I gained weight, I hated myself. I struggled with post partum depression after my son was born due to a traumatic birth. My anxiety was extreme after this. I was terrified of dropping him, I was terrified of connecting with him. I loved him but couldn’t touch him. My daughter, my sweet rainbow baby is physically delayed. She can’t walk, but she sure is making progress, we’ve been in physical therapy for the last 6 months, but it’s hard reading other parents posts about the milestones their child the same age have reached. She only ever wants me and is always fussy. Are these things supposed to make me stronger? It doesn’t feel that way. It feels like weights that constantly hold my ankles under water just enough for my nose to breathe, but I’m slowly drowning because I can’t hold them up anymore. After I lost my baby I was in a depressive psychosis and almost pulled the trigger, but I wanted to live I just didn’t know how. My husband saved me. He doesn’t deserve such a mess of a human and I’m trying so hard to not mess up my children, to not let my depression take ahold and make it so I don’t get out of bed, to not let my anxiety keep me from them having an amazing childhood and taking them places and doing things. Gosh, I’m falling apart today. So I’m trying to focus on things that help. Yesterday it was organizing and avoiding snapping at my children and honestly avoid them overstimulating me with laying all over me, instead having them help me. My five year old sure felt special helping mom. Today I’m still on the couch, but their bellies are full because I got up to feed them, brush their teeth, give them their gummy vitamins, and they’re watching their favorite movie. Looking for strength, looking for courage, trying to find that happy version of me that can still barely see above water. It’s days like today that I wish my husband would take the day off and just hold me while I cry. Until then I decided to share my story here and a share a glimpse of what I’m feeling because getting it out somehow is better than not at all. Thanks for listening/reading. #MentalHealth #Anxiety #Depression #ChildLoss #Miscarriage #SexualAssault #Surviving

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    I’ve Made it to Age 40.

    I turned 40 this week, and it has been a big deal for me. Not because I turned the big 4-0, but because I made it this far in life and a couple of times in my 30s, there was a chance not making it to this age.

    I’m sure for many of us who live with bipolar and serious illnesses, reaching certain ages is a big deal because of all the struggles we go through living with our illnesses. Sometimes even low self-esteem and self-hatred makes the journey even tougher. When I turned 26, I wept because as a college student, I vowed to take my life at age 25 if I didn’t get my sh*t together (whatever that truly meant at that age). So, turning 26 was huge for me.

    A few years later, I turned 30 and was devastated. My life was pretty much in shambles and I had no life skills to put it together. I felt so depressed I thought life was not worth living at all. A brief online chat with someone with paranoid schizophrenia changed my views, and a few months later I made the necessary changes to save my life, basically. Those changes were the best decisions I ever made, and I’m forever grateful that I made them.

    There were still bumps in the road, though. Bipolar 1 disorder can be difficult and the world is filled with cruel, evil people who have no issue with destroying you as much as they can, or want. Those were dark times again for me. But I made it out. Crawling, wounded, emotionally battered, but I came out alive.

    And hear I am, age 40 and still here. I’m grateful I am still here. I thank God everyday for being there for me and I credit the Lord for guiding me when I didn’t realize I needed it. I also am glad, though, that I didn’t give up and kept on going.

    That’s why I got this tattoo right below my wrist. The semi colon means continuing to go on despite wanting to stop. And “hope” means more than just being hopeful; it stands for “hold on, pain ends”.

    I also bought a picture off Etsy of a Phoenix rising from the ashes. There’s always hope and you will always rise again. Not dancing and singing, and most likely wounded and devastated, but you will emerge from whatever or whoever tried to destroy you. And someday, you’ll spread your wings and fly again, triumphantly.

    Thank you for reading, and cheers 🥂 #BipolarDisorder #SuicideIdeation #BipolarDepression #MajorDepression #IfYouFeelHopeless #CheerMeOn #dontgiveup #Surviving


    Still Hurting... #Toxic People #Surviving #Unconditional Love #Too Nice

    The tears just won't stop... Every time I think I do not have any left, My face is saturated with my tears from all the crying that never stops. It seems that I can't get any relief in this life for my sorrows and I can't find someone trained to give the right tools to work through things. I hate this. It's been all down hill and I am constantly fighting trying to fight my way back from illnesses and scars from my past. The worse part is I hate doing it alone. The one person I know loved me Unconditionally has long passed and every since that day I have been alone. I used to Pray to pass too because I couldn't live with the pain. But I tried to make my impression with hopes that someone would be saved from have to ever experience any of my sorrow. But I now realize no one cares nd when I part this Earth no one will miss me. I am so Broken, but I want to fight. But I just can't anymore... I am consumed by Hurt and Scars...

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    What music gets you through the day?

    I posted this in the Bipolar group, but thought it might be fitting here too.

    I like rock (most kinds), alternative, etc, but I’m open to anything. Bonus points if you can give me a cool happy song (any genre).

    Pic for attention, from the internet.

    #Music #Surviving #happysongs #DistractMe


    So about a week ago I left a really toxic invornment . I basically found out that where I was I wa being sexual abused by someone that claimed to be my friend LIES !
    I didn’t have to leave but when the person decided she was kicking my fiancé that lived with us too for no good reason I told her to her face I was tired of the shit there and that I was deciding right then and there to move back in with my mother. Even if my mom can be in healthy person for me to be around, it’s actually healthier then what I just left!
    Me and my fiancé are working as much as possible towards getting into an apartment of our own. There is a friggin huge list of things I have to get done like getting an SR22 car insurance so that I can get my drivers license back so I can have a car and be ably to legally drive literally anywhere again. The past six months I have not been able to do that and most of my money was taken by room mates . So I couldn’t ever have just enough to help out with my issues.
    But I have to that, get proof I took this dui class several months ago which I swore o got papers saying I had done this! And now I those papers just disappear.
    I have to make handfuls of Drs apointments to make up for ones I have missed. Reapply for food stamps!, look for new places to live with fiancé , look for possible second if not new jobs that would offer better money, go back to school, all things I was doing before it’s just all so much! But I want to stay on top of stuff not fall behind like I have been for so long. Maybe I am keeping so busy I literally feel exhausted all the time. Cause I am trying to avoid my depression and trauma for what I just went through ! #Surviving #MeToo #CPTSD



    Some days as soon as I awake being alive feels like a burden. I know , I know it shall pass but until it does, it's a tough fight to function normally when there is this F5 Tornado inside my chest. Hugs to everyone who walks this path, you are not alone. #Surviving #warrior

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    This piece ks called I Erode #MentalHealth #ChronicIlless #Undiagnosed #Algernoning

    I made this piece a few years ago, but it hit me hard today when I came across it.
    I feel like over the past years (especially the past 5) so many pieces of me have slipped loose and washed away. My brain doesn’t feel like my brain anymore; though, I can’t even at this moment remember what my brain used to feel like.
    I keep adapting backwards and have reached a point where I’m not sure how to make realistic goals anymore.
    For five years now, I have struggled with chronic progressive neurological symptoms. The first 3 and half of those years were spent being sent back and forth between specialists and neurologists writing off my symptoms as soon as I saw they saw that I have PTSD. One neurologist actually tried to diagnose me with a pysch disorder without ever calling my psychiatrist (who had referred me to her).
    I love words. I have always loved having just the right word for something. Several different people have given me the nickname “Dictionary”.
    Now, my aphasia and productive speech issues have me lost mid-sentence or blurting out a word that wasn’t the one i intended, or there is just a blank space where my word should be.
    I’m an artist and illustrator. But the tremors have gotten so bad that I am rarely able to make work.
    Muscle weakness and discoordination have made walking trails and even museums a rare indulgence with at least a full day of recovery time.
    More and more I have no idea how to respond or answer questions.
    Playing piano “fluently” is nearly impossible.
    And now losing sensation in part of my abdominal muscles and balance issues mean dance and dance warmups (for exercise) are potentially dangerous.
    I get lost in activites and days and forget the context.
    I feel like Schröedinger’s Mickey. I am both Mickey and not Mickey. And I’m afraid to open the box and find out too much of *me* has gone to really be *me* anymore.
    The me that cultivated meaning after trauma by working to help others.
    The me that survived stage 4 liver failure and a metabolic coma and fought for sobriety.
    The me that would hide behind my daddy’s leg in the supermarket because it was too *everything* in there.
    The me who danced and sang and taught art to children.
    The me who had friends.
    I’m most scared of losing the me who birthed two amazing humans and the me who gets to cuddle with them and listen to their beautiful thoughts, and even clean their earwax.

    I no longer am certain *who* I will be in a month or 6 months; what other pieces might disolve away.

    For now…I am.
    #PTSD #predementia #Surviving #Identity #LiverFailure #comasurvivor #Neuropathy #CognitiveIssues #Dementia #Undiagnosed

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    Reminding myself to share happy moments too, because they are what keep me going…

    Today I sit here watching my three year old favorite little guy swing on his new swing set with absolute joy on his face. All while my new baby sleeps, dreams, and drools away on my shoulder after feeding her. I feel this sense of sheer joy in my heart. I feel at peace. I, the anxious being I am feel calm. I feel love in its entirety. Then It occurs to me.. I’ve never felt this before. I’ve never felt sheer joy that comes from what It means to be part of a family until I had children. Don’t get me wrong, I have an amazing husband who is the love of my life and is an absolutely amazing father and has brought me joy. But not like this. Not like the one that comes from listening to two little feet run down the hallway at the crack of dawn. Or that comes from hearing my 3 year old sing his abcs, old McDonald, Itsy bitsy spider, and twinkle twinkle little star every single night of the week in his sweet little voice that shows me he can really hit those high notes. Or the one that comes from my babies wrapping their tiny little arms as far as they can around my neck. This my friend is living my best life. Sure I’m not traveling the world, at a beach, or being adventurous on a safari. But these two littles are my adventure, they bring an unexplainable love that fills my once broken heart and weaves its way through gently sewing all those cracks up making it whole again. They my friend are what living really is, they are what unconditional love really is, and they are what God had planned all along for me. Thank you so much God for my children, thank you for making me a mom, thank you for showing me what love really is. #Anxiety #Depression #Suicide #Happiness #living #Surviving #motherhoodsavedme #mykidsdeservebetterthanIhad

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    #sunnydays #relaxing A few weeks ago we were out and about and realized a home close to ours has a pet duck !