Words Walk

words walk~
5/17/14
emily sturgill

sidewalks
smacking
sideways
i am shaking

under
smooth, smooth, smooth
stone.

i walk the walk.
i talk the talk.

my lips are on fire
burning from cliches.

sentences, words, tumble
out…

me?
I am tripping, tripping, tripping
in a daze.

sidewalks
smacking
sideways
i am shaking

under
smooth, smooth, smooth
stone.

Emergency: running out of dark chocolate soon!

I am sure many males of our species,

just would not understand,

but a lady’s gotta have her chocolate-

the darker the better,

this I know my husband completely misunderstands.

If it’s not labelled as “milk” it is not chocolate at all,

by his high standards.

i love the bitter-sweet way it rolls

around in my mouth,

the way it nasty-coats my teeth.

I’m down to my last two precious pieces.

No-cross that out and replace it with-one piece left.

Oh, hell i just ate that piece too,

what’s a girl to do?

It’s an Emergency!!! I’m running out of

bittersweet candy, chocolate made from gold.

Romantic bliss. Men go buy your Lady her favorite,

chocolate, the rewards will pay off double in the end!!

To seal the deal-buy her some roses too-just because,

to show her, how much she is loved.

Music Lifts me up

Music Lifts me up,

when I am crashing downwards,

just hearing a favorite song or favorite singer-song-writer,

puts a smile on my heart,

and on  my face as well.

 

Music Lifts me up,

when times are tough.

Just the joy of listening

to a familiar and favorite tune-

is enough to help me-chase those blues away.

 

Music Lifts me up,

it is poetry for the soul.

It is something so sublime, shifting my

subconscious, into a nicer, softer place.

 

Sometimes, I like to sing along,

especially while i’m driving in my car,

or sitting in the car as my husband Deano Drives…

He likes the way I sing,

it is always a surprise that he approves of my singing.

He likes to sing along too.

 

Music Lifts me Up.

taking me places, i have never been before.

Carving out new memories,

like a long lost friend.

Music takes me everywhere,

 

I want to go, because

Music Lifts me up.

Poetry Junkie

Hi my name is Emily with a ‘Y’,

and I am a Poetry Addict.

I cannot stop writing them,

and really it’s becoming no fun.

I’m addicted to the words,

especially the verbs-

-the crunchy kind.

I’m shifty and slightly,

untrustworthy;

especially around word games,

like scrabble.

I’m sure to cheat, throw in a personal-pronoun,

I’m in way too deep.

And there are words, literally

everywhere.

I look and I cannot,

get away fast enough!

I am a poetry addict,

one or two poems, a day-

is never enough.

Some I would suppose-

would doubt my sincerity.

Some I would suppose-

would doubt my sanity.

Some I would suppose would just

assume its harmless fun.

But I become ruthless and ravenous,

when I’m around words,

I cannot help myself.

hypergraphia

Hypergraphia disturbs me,

I think I maybe?

write too much…too often…like I cannot,

control myself…

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Hypergraphia

Here is a definition if you are unaware of the term.

Sometimes, I just cannot stop writing

and it does not mean that I have

anything useful or important to say,

it is not creativity, at least not in a meaningful way.

I simply spew words at my blog or my journal,

or where-ever. I feel a bit guilty for this-this empty pleasure.

Like covering a toilet stall with useless graffiti.

the urge to write comes over me,

quite hysterical. It’s like trying to hold your breath and it’s that moment-

where you cannot hold your breath any longer and you are

gasping for air? It’s kinda like that moment except instead of gasping

for air- I am spilling words out and I cannot keep them in any longer.

I try to contain them in a mason jar

only to find that the words have escaped-

fire-fly style.

I try to catch them before they spring loose from my

quick typing hand

but tiger-like, they pounce again.

I’m a poetry addict….I do not think

that there is even a 12 step program for that

or a plush comfty re-hab, I could check into-

to keep my thoughts from running rampant

straight into you,

yes, you reading this.

and I am sorry,

but I do not know how to stop writing-

it’s one of my most treasured addictions.

Her ugly limited view of god

IMAG0907 (1)My sister and i

were on the telephone,

when i mentioned my husband and self-

maybe seeking an annulment

in order to get a portion of my social security

benefits restored.

She was furious with me.

She gave me a huge angry lecture,

citing the importance of Love,

and the sanctity of marriage.

It come out of nowhere,

this fright train of outrage.

She stream-rolled me, with

I would not end my marriage-

over such a small amount of money Emily.

this she said with words made of bees

not of honey….her quick judgement of me.

This extra amount of money would be

in fact quite insignificant to my sister.

Yet compared to us and all of our struggles;

Her and her husband live on the high horse-

She herself has never even acquired a

4 year bachelors degree-yet she has made it-

achieving much, in the world of hospital administration.

She was lucky to achieve so much with so little education-

just the sweat of her brow and making it up the

food chain by sheer hard work and lots of luck.

Myself, I hold a high school diploma, a bachelors degree in Fine Arts,

and a Masters Degree in Education: Art Ed and Art Therpy-

I also hold an unraveling mind

trapped beneath the glass,

of mental illness.

I too, have worked very hard for everything that life has given me.

The difference of course, is i roughly earn

only 6,000$ per year from ssdi.

She I am sure earns well over 50,000$

plus her spouse also works-he is a republican,

a private businessman.

My spouse works too, yet barely above

the minimum wage. He cuts meat for a living,

a honest job-yet does not count as high paying.

I do not consider us to be “greedy”people.

I also do not consider us to be”godless”.

he is an atheist and I am Wiccan.

She was attacking me,

verbally on the grounds of the sanctity of marriage & her ugly limited,

view of her God-not mine-not understanding-

I no longer follow her bible-

the law she swallows,

things we were taught as small children.

These beliefs instilled in her outrage,

that i could consider ending a loving marriage

just to earn a increase in monthly benefits…

She has not walked a mile in my shoes.

She does not understand how difficult it can be-

to subside on only $6,000 for an entire year.

Yes, I am married.

Yes, I do love my husband.

But is it wrong for me to want better for us?

When i have been looking for even a part-time job,

for over 18 months….

had countless interviews,

but no callbacks…

is it wrong for me to end a formality,

a paper contract between he and i,

that would increase my SSDI benefits,

by over double the amount they are now?

Is it fair to my husband,

that he pay for everything

and I do not pay my share?

She advised me to simply quit smoking.

This is a brilliant idea-

I often encounter by non-smokers.

As if it were simply that easy to stop?

Besides even if I did quit that would only free up 350-400$ per month.

Nothing like, the over $800 in benefits, i lost

by marrying my heart, true love, the man of my dreams.

At the time, I did not think losing,

all that money would be so hard.

At the time, just over 2 years ago,

I thought i would earn a nice income-

from a masters degree in art therapy.

but i did not.

and now, my older sister berates me,

on the importance of the sanctity of marriage,

and the strength of marriage vows.

Please do not beat me up with guilt,

over your limited and narrow definition of God.

That is not my God nor my Goddess.

We believe in separate things entirely.

Your ugly, limited view of God and all that

that must contain.

Beating me up with the Religion of my childhood,

Trying to prevent me from committing an unknown sin.

Your God is not my God.

My God does not sit upon a shelf,

trapped between ivory pages

of a little yet well known book-

that is used in many purposes to do more harm than good.

Sleeping slowly improving…

Since I’ve been back home-

I guess since Tuesday, or Weds or Thursday,

of last week- my sleep has been slowly improving.

 

This makes my husband very happy.

Although, I have been smoking

cigarettes, much worse than ever.

That is highly upsetting to him.

 

I try to explain that, no its not forever,

that i am trying to readjust to

the beauty which is

us.

 

That I am trying to cope,

with a hypo-manic stroke of luck-

a mild mania or mixed state,

It was not great, to have yet

another episode,

even if it was a smaller one.

 

My doctor says even though I have

been having more episodes than usual the past

2 years- that they all have been mild,

She sees that as a vast improvement.

 

It’s funny-in the strangest sense-

how many new people I met,

and how many did not really realize,

that something was a bit off with me.

 

The only ones who knew for sure,

were my husband-who i became paranoid of-

and my doctor-because she’s good

at her job and some sort of pro

at deciphering the Madness.

 

My sleep is getting better.

I am feeling much more relaxed.

All of which is good.

 

I’ve been in plans for leading

an Artist Talk-Art therapy workshop,

later this month,

We have been planning it at least 3 or 4 months.

 

The open art therapy studio and I.

I was kind of frightened I may,

have some sort of episode

and make an ass, of myself.

 

Now that I have had a shorter and milder

episode, all my meds were basically increased

so that means, I do not have to fear,

another episode for a while.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Being bipolar can really suck sometimes…U

The nature of the “crazy-beast” is that when you are crazy, or going crazy then you do not believe you are crazy.

I know that there is a cliche about that, but unlike most cliches, this one is definitely true.

I know first-hand, because I am “bipolar 1-with psychotic features” -although current groovy dr. just shortens it to being bipolar or having manic-depression. It is more than a label. It is an illness. But it is a treatable one.Not easy to have nor to treat, but it is possible, to live a semi-normal life while being bipolar.

I think i am one of the lucky ones. I was diagnosed roughly 21 years ago-in 1992. Since then, I have amassed a huge group of friends, family, and trusted allies. It is vital to staying well to have some sort of support-network, whether its friends, family, church, priest, rabbi, minister,siblings,spouses,employers ect. You need objective persons in your life who can look out for you when you are not objective. If your really bipolar-you will not always be 100% objective. It is the nature of the “crazy-beast.”

I just had a major break-through last night. I realized I have been having some sort of episode-hypomania or mixed-mania, with paranoia, for at least the last two weeks. I called my Dr this morning to confirm this-(my husband already did confirm though) and to just let her know- i was on the same page now. I knew I had been sick. I complimented her method of handling it. Unlike past doctors I had had at Community Mental health-she did not directly address this issue that i was “sick”. She is an excellent doctor, by the way. I first saw her back in 1998-2000. i stopped seeing her because i took advantage of her, during an episode to get her to prescribe me medications i had no attention of correctly taking. It was long ago i was only 26.

I decided to swallow 30 depakote and kill myself. It was dramatic and extreme.I really violated her trust in our relationship.But soon after i did that stupid stupid thing i began to change my mind…when my boyfriend-(now hubby)-got home from a midnights job i confessed everything and he rushed me to the nearest hospital, most likely saving my life. I was given charcoal and was in the ICU for four days straight. That was my first and last ever serious suicide attempt.

After that my doctor broke up with me- i don’t blame her at all for this. So i started going to Community Mental Health. I went on and off for years-the off parts were during episodes….

2 years ago, yesterday, i married my boyfriend of 11 years. My health insurance changed slightly. We had wrongly deduced if we were to get married i would lose my Medicare and Medicaid-so he put me on his Blue Cross Employee insurance. Now CMH refused to treat me saying they did not accept blue cross.

I called my old doctor. I was very persistent, and convincing. I explained I had grown up a lot since she last treated me. I ask if i could please be her patient again? She was hesitant, but willing to give me a second shot.That was almost 2 years ago. I am so thankful she said yes to being my doctor again. She is the best and my most favorite doctor I have ever had in the over two decades of this madness.

Fast forward to the past two weeks….I became very irritated, the day after ,the day after, my 39th birthday. So like 2 days after my birthday-may 21-i lost my shit. May 23rd was terrible, but May 24th and 25th were much worse.

I guess it was a hypo-mania-(mild mania) or a mixed state-(both depressed and manic mixed together.)

If my doctor confronted me about being paranoid or manic, I would have stopped speaking with her-probably even fired her as my doctor.

instead, she choose to just listen-after i found myself in a safe shelter house for women with domestic violence she started increasing my meds.

we did have a small mishap with that-she raised my lithium too high-while i did not go toxic-i had dangerous symptoms and had to be briefly hospital2ized over night. My lithium levels never been that high before-it was 1.25.So she lowered it back down to its normal dose. And just raised other meds.

Eventually, i decided to forgive my hubby and came home two nights ago. At first, i still thought i was in my right mind-but then my doctor wanted to raise my sereoquel XR some more. A couple hours later, i realized with her frequently raising my meds, i must be having another episode. I cried hysterically for over  2 hours while mu husband just held me and told me that he still loves me. i was devastated.I was confused but coming to my senses.

And i was safe, he was safe, we were still married-it was going to be ok. To be honest, i am even crying as i am writing this-I feel cheated somehow, but by my own mind…i do not understand how i could so quickly get sick again-without typical warning signs? It is a very scary feeling to be paranoid. Especially terrified of friends and family who love you. I thought it was all hubby’s fault. What i mistook as physical abuse was him trying to restrain me and keep me from running away-i always run away….usually nowhere safe or good. This time was a bit better- i wound up in a safe place.

All i can say is bipolar disorder is a serious illness and “crazyness is a beast.” which is difficult to contain.

nightmares and panic attacks

i realize whats past is past,

yet i still inside my mind and body and heart-

i still am standing in that same burning building/

my hands are spread apart-

and he is holding me down and i-

i am crying and screaming

for him to just let me go-

that i cannot even breathe.

then i wake up still trapped inside my dream,

my nightmare,  the past.

it holds me in fist of rock solid granite-

it pulls me down it won’t let me go.

The wolf and red riding hood

What happens to the girl,

when she realizes its not grandma-in her bed,

its a wolf instead.

 

And his teeth are scary sharp and mean,

they glisten and gleam

with anger, rage, and heartache

verging

on a natural disaster.

 

What should the girl do,

should she trust the wolf with its

bright pretty eyes

and his lengthy explanation-

filled with nothing but lies?

 

“Baby, I won’t hurt you.”

“Baby lets work things out…”

“Baby, this marriage is worth saving.”

“When i mentioned murder-suicide in a casual way-it was because i was only joking.”

“You believe me right? Folks say stuff like that all the time but never mean it…”

Yeah, well…not so much.

 

 

That was when red riding hood spied

her grandmothers shiny bare bones

in their walk-in closet.

 

Never trust a wolf,

right there and then she decided.

A wolf is always lying.