#manicdepression
Schizoaffective bipolar type is hell’s disorder.
It is a whirlwind of the curious mind.
A fusion of emotions, brick by boring brick.
Thoughts askew and twisted like twigs.
Mania, depression, and psychosis sleep together.
Producing a break out of pandemonium.
Exulting energy, dejection, and voices taunt.
A battle within that seems to haunt.
Medication and therapy, tools of aid.
Will tackle hell’s disorder and put it in Pandora's box.
Be wary and do not open it no matter what.
Or the symptoms will crawl over every inch of your skin.
Put the pain in the past because you can still live your life.
You can work a 9 to 5, go on hikes, travel, and ride a bike.
What is something you look forward to? They always ask.
I sigh and answer: freedom.
Aug 24, 2022
Aug 24, 2022 at 1:23 PM UTC
I thought you were ok
Guess it was too early to say.
Now you collapse in my arms
Your walls fall down, broken charms.
Your tears soak me to the bone
I feel cold, you feel alone.
You’re not alone.
Nov 11, 2019
Nov 11, 2019 at 10:36 PM UTC
i am supposed to be okay.
i told them all i knew what to do if i started feeling this way again.
i really thought i did
i thought i could prevent this
but it is all coming back
i was supposed to be the miraculous recovery
the story of hope
but i have slipped back into my old patterns
faster than i could realize it
it seems too late now
another round in the match against the darkness
that fills my insides
the darkness that slithers and creeps
its way through my once bright mind
putting out any source of light and
draining all colors
i have fought this before
and seemed to have won
but it never takes long
for it to regain strength and start
strangling me from the inside
once again
a familiar feeling of emptiness fills my body
each time those cold dark fingers
wrap around my soul
it grows stronger with each
grotesque thought it sends
into my now darkened mind
the color and light that once inhabited this cavern
are starved of the positivity they need to burgeon
and so they lie weakened
dwindling and starving on the damp ground
becoming more frail with each wave
of pain and despair
faster and faster this climate becomes too harsh for them
and they are gone
vanished alongside hopefulness and optimism
i try to recall what it felt like
when the color and light still remained
but the thought seems distant and foreign
i cannot wrap my mind around the way i used to think and feel
filled with naivety and hope
i squashed negative thoughts
with thoughts of love
and positivity
but now the roles are reversed
every day i search for that sliver of love and happiness
which i know is behind one of these doors
in the darkened hallways of my mind
one day i shall find it
i know this search will not conclude soon
and i will not find what i am looking for
as quickly as i want to
but when i do
and i know i will
i will nourish it
like my own child
it will grow stronger and stronger
with each step i take towards the light
it will nurse on my laughter
and feed on my joy
one day i will find this light
and care for it like one of my own
i just cannot bear the wait
the search
the feeling in its place
but for now
i will keep on looking
because i refuse to let
the darkness win
Oct 29, 2019
Oct 29, 2019 at 1:12 AM UTC
We are aware of the darkness that a judgmental mind could never interpret,
regrettably a sympathetic one whom may never understand,
the unfortunate occasion that you may never comprehend,
nevertheless, the inconsolable thoughts taking possession as we ill-advisedly perceive it all.
We plead with our wits next to the shadowy void to pull itself together for the considerate rope, thrown by the aiding, observant heart, whom questionably believes they may be witness to a faltering mind.
Observing the consciousness of the defeated soul that appears to be in despair without hope,
whos only aspirations seem simply to be a desire for a purpose, if not just appreciated for unobserved accomplishments,
but as the Darkness appears it’s difficult to grasp the disoriented, desolated mind that was ****** abruptly upon us.
As much as you try to alleviate the agony you attest to see, handing over your own strength you long to be received,
There is still the over-whelming pull of our defective mind,
discouraging thoughts that blind the help being offered that we push aside,
we feel the need of fight or fly, as we flee to our merciless evacuation,
It’s in that moment we freely descend,
Diving into the captivating abyss,
With the knowledge of knowing we may never ascend again.
You can’t hear the darkness’s dialogue, but we listen to the seductive silence as the chemicals misalign,
the reckless, misguided drop into the blinding dark hole that feels numb in awareness, but aching to touch,
the darkness can speak for as long as we reluctantly consent,
despite the fact it leaves us feeling insignificant,
we let darkness define us and at times its abundant touch is imprudently enough to keep us retreating to darkness’s lair for refuge from our detrimental behavior.
We reach, we scream, we dig our nails into the muddy wall, but the hole is too deep; the rope isn’t long.
Maybe it’s a test as you climb the roots; but the darkness is still there grabbing at your legs, whispering to you that you’re meant to be here instead.
“It’s safe here!” Darkness says. “They can’t get you here! They may get past that concrete wall, but not in this destitute of twigs and straw, but if they do, they could get stuck, too, maybe I’ll haunt them instead of you?”
I should have known how easy it was to fall so gracelessly into a shadowy hole that I know shows when prompted by self-possessed triggers in life that you can’t help but let devour the night.
We find ourselves asking if we should even reach up.
We began to wonder if the hole was meant to collect what we feel is broken and left for dead.
Some find us weak, but they have no clue,
When we do choose to be, we fight this battle almost daily, so you can’t say what weakness is,
When you’ve never needed the strength to fight the dark to begin with.
By,
Natalie M. Lawrence
Feb 4, 2019
Feb 4, 2019 at 12:31 AM UTC
Waking up next to you, and what do I see?
A smirk and a kiss, coming from someone happy
Your eyes cloudy from all of that dreaming
But clearly there's things between the lines
That I'm not reading
I have been questioned if I knew the person I loved
And I have answered yes, with such confidence
With a smile that could break boundaries, but apparently ignorant
How could I not know the other half of myself? My dearest friend?
But I see your scriptures, your withering sentiment
There are things I do not know yet
I have tried to crack open the skull and see what's inside
I wonder how much truth all find, and see how many lies have been fed to me
I could just live in ignorance, continue to think I know and live so easily
I have given life times of love
But is it enough?
Oh, maybe the lies just please me
But there are things in between the lines of your poetry that I am not reading
The insides of you may only be a stranger, I only know the paths of your skin
And the corners of your smile, and the symphony of laughter
I will continue to be on the outside, circulating my way in, but always meet a guard at the door
Pointing me the other way, from the person I adore
And who is that? I do not know anymore.
It is you, but who are you?
So many demons of yours that I have never been introduced too.
I thought my empathy and my heart had a couple of uses
Maybe I want you hold you, and kiss your bruises
Maybe I want you to take me down the dark hallways, past the guards and the locks
To tell me about your drug uses, and all of your abuses
But you sprinkle me with stardust until I am stunned
Keep me occupied with your words and your tongue
Keep me sleeping, 12 hours around the clock, over time
Keep me from reading in between the god **** lines
Oct 29, 2018
Oct 29, 2018 at 5:06 PM UTC
It ticks
Like a bomb
Inside a cave
When it explodes
It only has one place to go
Out the way it came
With fast wind
Hot fire
And death
That follows
Sep 7, 2018
Sep 7, 2018 at 3:58 PM UTC
Emotion burgeons with each passing day,
becoming indolent through exhaustion.
Calling for help imperatively,
but not being heard through a cloud so thick.
Jul 17, 2018
Jul 17, 2018 at 12:28 AM UTC
Adulate the figure above,
allowing for hope and grandiosity to take hold.
In a mind so broken, it must crack to be restored.
Jul 17, 2018
Jul 17, 2018 at 12:26 AM UTC
Bipolar is a tricky thing
One second is the time of you life
The next your wishing for death
You confuse people with your emotions
Little do they know
They confuse you too
You wish you were normal
You wish you could change
But this is your life
Forever confused
Feb 17, 2018
Feb 17, 2018 at 2:54 AM UTC
I am over this "happiness is a mindset"-"find a love that makes you forget you were ever depressed"-"medication changes your personality"-"just think happy thoughts"-"have you tried yoga?" ********
Nowadays, everyone has self diagnosed depression- and won't shut up about it.
And now when I say "I've had manic-depression and was diagnosed with it when I was 9." what most people think I mean was "I need attention, and I have to be like everybody else."- tumblr is my life- ********
Happiness is a mindset that I was never wired to have, and I am not in control of changing the programming from the inside. I cannot forget that I was ever depressed, when I have known depression since I took my first breath of fresh air out of the womb- as if it's woven into the very fabric of my skin- and I know my skin about as well as I know myself and I've been stuck with both my entire life- an invisible twin that I never ******* asked for. Sure, medication changes my personality-. It makes me function like a normal human being, instead of one that wants to swallow all of those pills and stop breathing- for no reason other than a lack of the same chemicals you can find in that pill that I take into my mouth and swallow every day as if it is my soul that I am swallowing, and not a chalky, white tablet. I cannot think happy thoughts when that it a language that I do not speak and no matter how I have tried to learn, I just can't seem to get the grammatical structure correct- don't even get me started about conjugating verbs because my depression prevents me from doing a ******* thing anyways. I cannot just do some ******* yoga, because all that does is make my body stronger- it cannot alter and rewire my brain to suddenly do something it's never done, and I cannot begin to tell you all of the ways my therapist and I have tried to figure out a way to wave a magical ******* wand and suddenly I'm cured, and how my therapist definitely is not a ******* fairy, and my psychiatrist is really just my potions master, how I've been on **** near every kind of pill, how those pills have kept me alive, how if I miss even one dose, suddenly I imagine how jumping off of a building is the exact way that I want to end this agony- but with no reason to jump, nothing pushing me. Except maybe the fact that having manic depression, gives me more depression- like a never ending plant that just is.. always in ******* season, and boy do I have some ******* allergies.
I cannot begin to tell you how it felt to be 9 years old when my father sat me down and asked me point blank "Honey- you look sad, all the time. Why are you sad?" and bursting into tears like a water fountain bursting a pipe and saying "Daddy, I don't know. I just am. I always am."
Sep 18, 2017
Sep 18, 2017 at 11:30 AM UTC
Sometimes my mind runs,
so my feet walk.
My brain is an unsorted file,
and my body is a disconnected server.
There are moments in life where I am so in love with it all that I cry.
Moments when I am so upset, I laugh.
I can not fully understand the loops that my mind takes
over and over.
But I still ride along them.
When I was younger, I use to be so scared of the mess in my brain.
But the truth is,
I am full of clutter.
I am the home of loved objects that is messy,
and lived in.
I am a cloud of multiple thoughts
that lead me to sing at the wrong times.
Love harder than I should.
Feel every emotion at once.
We are all cluttered boxes.
I promise you,
you are messy
but full of love.
And I promise you,
we will all be pulled
from the attic
and taken
back home.
Sep 2, 2016
Sep 2, 2016 at 4:08 AM UTC
well it actually happened
i guess i fell in love
but everything seems to be messed up
you see my lovers a demon
with sugar flavored lips
shes poison and treasure
is hidden right below her hips
im crazy for craving her
and her perfume of nicotine
im crazy for loving her
because she isnt what she seems
up and down and back again
rollercoaster of euphoria
hot and cold and warm again
drowing in hysteria
my love,
her name is mania
Jun 16, 2016
Jun 16, 2016 at 1:04 PM UTC
time is choking me
I can feel it all around me and I want out
Time is just man made but time is a snake sent by God to wrap and squeeze out your life
No matter how much makeup you put on, the masks you wear, time is all around you
Why won't it let go
Sometimes it squeezes so hard you *****
And your hands are numb but feeling was never important
Because what is feeling to time
You wake up every night because you can't breath,
Time lays beside you, but it never sleeps
Time holds a screen in your face and calls it memory
It's really just a movie that you never really liked anyway
One with him touching you and you touching her, making sure time doesn't let you forget about him like you have
Nobody in this world ends a sentence for you unless you do it yourself so do it yourself
With the knife you hold, you could **** time
I feel so sick
Do doctors have medicines for time because I don't want too anymore, I can't want too, I can't, I don't, I won't
Eventually he's going to quiet my heart, and nobody will hear me
Apr 12, 2016
Apr 12, 2016 at 4:49 PM UTC