Tuesday, May 27, 2014

How I got Here



2013 I was living in a manic world.

At the start of the year of 2013, 5 days after the new year I tried to commit suicide. My relationship with the love of my life had ended a month prior, and I was in the deepest depression that I have thought I could feel. When I was released from the pysh center I had no chose but to return home to my family and most of all my daughter. But I had no idea still how to cope with this bipolar thing that just kept lingering in my life. I was down for the next few months, but when the sun started to shine my manic starts to rise. You see my moods are severely effected by the weather. In the winter seasons I experience the most depression, and as soon spring comes, I go into a high energy swing.

My ex and I started being friends again in April (love can make manic even more extreme), I just landed 2 new jobs while still working my third (no way I should have been working 3 jobs), & I was trying to be the perfect mother because I have failed horribly in the past. Add buying a new car, which my father co- signed for (another bad idea for anyone going through a manic episode) and now I've fully fed my manic. The next 8 months I had decreased sleep, 8 months of rapid thoughts, grandiose ideas, lost of memory, bad budgeting and the list goes on. I stopped my medications, never had time to go to group sessions, or no one to check in with. I literally was living my life as if I had no bipolar, or at lease that is what I told myself, I was cured in my head. But that was what the problem was, it was all in my head.

When looking back on the previous year through some of my sporadic journals I seen that I was trying to pinpoint the madness, and I tried mentally to pump the brakes. I literally seen the rapid cycling in my journal entries. The highs one hour the lows the next. But it only got worst, the presence of the New Year had spun my manic into overdrive and I was charged with the idea of starting all anew. No bipolar, no manic, no depression, no need for meds or doctors. "These are just positive thoughts, can't I have a good feeling for my future?" Not when your bipolar, anything can trigger an episode. Holidays, weather, conversations, thoughts, songs, etc. I've managed to have a total of 5 jobs by end of the year, newly experiencing raising a child who's energy only matched mine (I should of known if I could keep up with my then 9 year old that something is wrong ). But I could not catch myself and I could not stop the crash that was soon to come.

The switch was brought on by the stress of my family having to move from my fathers 5 bedroom home. I was behind in my car note and insurance, I had dental work done which also caused me to fall into the depression, and once I was there, I could not for the life of me snap out of it and I was afraid. Afraid that I was about to let my family down again. Afraid that my weakness was going to show again. Afraid that I was going to end my life this time for real. So I ran away to hide what was about to surface, the good and the bad had come and gone but it was about to get ugly and I did not know how to let them see that side of me.

I completely crashed in February 2014, I left home distraught and filled with hatred for myself, for not being strong enough to fight my dark passenger (Dexter fans will understand that lingo). I turned to substance abuse, cutting, and promiscuous sex in hopes it would jautle me back to life, because inside I was dead. But eventually I had to place myself into care for 72 hours because I was spiraling as I call it. But once out I tried to explain to my family what was going on, and it did nothing but caused more problems and I found myself homeless and that was when I landed in the belly of the beast. The worst depression I have every experienced in my life and for the longest period. For the next 2 months I self harmed and I self medicated. I missed large amounts of work because I could not get out of the bed (thank God I have the best boss who has been over supportive). I locked myself in bathrooms laying on the floor crying with blood running down my arms, I wanted to go I was not cut out to deal with this illness. this curse as I use to call it. I wanted out of this misery.

I fought my depression cold turkey (I DO NOT RECOMMEND THIS PLEASE ALWAYS SEEK MEDICAL HELP WHEN DEALING WITH DEPRESSION) I was not on medication nor was I seeing a doctor. Honestly it was my faith, meditating when I could, and finally reaching out to people on my facebook that help me through it successfully. But most of all it was my little girl who helped me through this, hearing her laughter, her joy from deep inside, her unconditional love for me has saved me.

Today I have been in my new apartment that I just moved in on 5/16/2014, I have been blessed with furniture, and food to eat while I get back on my feet. I still have my job and I am only a 10 minute walk away. I have a new voice now because of this, a purpose has arise in me to put a stop to the stigma that is associated with mental illness, especially when it comes to the African American culture. The lost support I have received from my own family or the support from anyone that has the same color as me has to be stopped. When I attend groups or when I see the people that are out about their illness there is a small percentage of then that are minority. Why is that? Well I am going to find out and I am going to change that.

The biggest component to helping someone with mental illness is the support, without it we fall. We are not as strong as you, we have a illness that can not be physically seen, but it cripples us. So I beg of you that know someone that is suffering with a mental illness that you be there, because that's the difference between someone who survives and lives a "normal" healthily life and someone who lives in darkness and confusion for the rest of their life.

Friday, May 23, 2014

Writing to You

I have always been a writer, since I can remember I have developed a bond with a pen and pad that could never be broken. My silent thoughts spilled out on what use to be a blank sheet of paper. The things I could not say, or wanted to say but didn't know how, sat perfectly on those thin lines. I often would look over my thoughts and wonder where is the magic when I am trying to say these things, because I am totally opposite when presented the opportunity to say whats on my mind. I freeze, all intellect is gone, and I can feel the burning dislike in myself for not saying what the heck is hurting me, makes me feel great, when need to explain my ideas. I choke.
Whenever I needed to express my admiration for someone I wrote it in a letter, when I needed to release my emotions, I wrote poetry,when essays where given out I leaped with joy while others cringe at the thought of writing another 6 page essay.I was thinking how was I going to stop writing at 6 pages.  Journal writings, diary letters, you name it, it was a source of comfort for me  and the only way knew ow to speak.
I have been since I was a child haunted with a dream for years, simply not having a voice, I scream, I try with my hardest to talk, but nothing ever comes out. Just a mute girl wishing to be able to say whats on my mind. I'm 29 years old and I still have this dream. I don't know what it all means ut I can only tell you nothing is more taunting them not being able to voice your thoughts.
So I guess that is why I lean to creating, the freedom to express yourself with words, colors, music, and dance.  I may not be able to tell you why I love you verbally, but I could with a song, with a poem, or with colors.  I may nt be able to express whats going on in my head, but if you take a look at my poetry and feel the words, you'll be able to see the picture I painted for you with words. These are my words, and I want to share them with you.