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Follow me on facebook please!Picture 149 Warming up with color abstract 2 Fall 2013 Spirals of Song and other poems book cover1 Picture 161 Warming up with color abstract 1 Fall 2013 Abstract oil pastel drawing 99 cover design for words whirl 2013 copy Falling to pieces by EHCato 1999 IMAG0893 IMAG0898 IMAG0897 Art before words new front cover copy back cover art before words3 copy self portrait 05012013 Picture 94 Acrylic mixed media pumice gel painting 1996 canvasboard Spirituality, acrylic and sand on canvasboard 1996 possible coverart1 copy Athena wiccan11 IMG_20130330_093258

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endurance

Running up that big hill,

Running out of breath,

I have no endurance-no strength left.

 

Running up the wall,

Running up the street,

Running all sideways,

the stars beneath my feet.

 

a troubled mind

tries to find the time

to create a story-

or weave a rhyme.

 

a writers mind,

always running-no where to go,

just running on steam,

among broken dreams.

 

Running up that hill,

Running towards free-will,

Running towards a notion or two,

or three.

 

Finding a moment,

covered in honesty reaching for,

glee.

 

Poetry always reminds me,

to find myself,

I must forget all else-

letting the raw ideas flow-

right through me,

like one in a trance.

 

Riddles, sphinx, pyramids

Ancient stuff, it is all a mystery-

entirely over my head-

way beyond me.

 

But Poetry, my Muse

she whispers to me in my left ear, lightly,

she says just that I should run-

run freely until I reach the Sun.

 

Running up the wall,

Running up the street,

Running all sideways,

the stars beneath my feet.

 

Running up that big hill,

Running out of breath,

I have no endurance-no strength left.

wiccan11 Picture 94 IMAG0900

 

 

Nervous kinetic Energy

Nervous Kinetic Enegry,

spirals out of the life of me.

Once had nerves of steel,

but now long gone-

so damn nervous, tell me this time-

what did I do or say wrong?

 

A Lady called me today.

Straight out of the big blue.

A person-a somebody-I didn’t knew.

She was asking about a job application I made-

nearly seven weeks ago…

 

She was pop-quizzing me,

as if I would recall the exact details

of the job or company.

 

I have been applying to so many…

its easy to lose track

its easy to lose track fast.

 

She almost scheduled the interview with me,

but something made her pause to say,

can i give you a call back???

 

I am left holding the bag,

wondering if I blew the whole thing already,

or if she will in fact call back,

 

Gosh, I hope so…I am sitting on pins and needles.

Way too much kinetic energy-

with no-place, to go.

 

I just know, that by now,

its high time, that I finally get a job.

I really need a job Now, not yesterday

nor tomorrow, but right away

in the present moment,

in the blink of an eye

and the wink of my tongue.

 

I need me some gluing

so I do not become

completely unraveled-

completely undone.

 

Worlds Collide

Worlds collide

deep inside,

my smashing mind.

 

There is the world that

I have built of an insane asylum-inside my head.

Then there is the “other”- “Real World”.

 

these two places do not often,

co-exist very well.

Somedays, I get lost in the translation.

 

My crazy self, jumps into

the world of reality foolish and blindly.

She peers out for a second or moment-

here nor there….tearing a patch of the fabric

that holds me altogether.

 

And then worlds collide.

When I am sane-relatively speaking-all

of the sudden I do something

out of whack and crazy.

 

It’s not an episode-rather a symptom.

I suffer from some strange and

unexpected irrationality.

Or worse, I get fearful and defensive,

and I have no idea why.

 

I just knew that somewhere,

deep inside

two worlds have collided,

yet again.

 

 

 

It’s offical: Today really sucked….:(

I spent at least 2 hrs today bickring and fighting with my husband. We very rarely argue, perhaps not the best thing to rarely argue-hostilities do seem to build up-then boom!!!

He accused me of being bitchy today-no argument there-i knew i had been and was-still kind of am-in a wicked evil mood. I’m not sure if its pms or something else…i took all my meds as prescribed. I was just really angry today. That is very rare.

After we made up- he asked if we could pretend today never happened? it was a sweet thought but i had to say no. I tried to explain that there are real issues despite if we discuss or fight about them or not.

even unspoken, the issues are still there….a lot of family drama issues.

I wish that we lived on our own and did not have to take care of his mom. She is not always that pleasant to live with-yet i have been living here wit her for 13 years. I knew 2 years ago when we tied the knot, i knew what i was in for. I did not expect it to change really, but i wish it would…

Sometimes, i resent it. I am the one home alone with her most of the days.
I’m the one to deal with all her dramas and ailments and stressors…

I’m a mentally ill person my own self, sometimes it is really tough helping somebody else-who does not even want help much of the time.

I’m not sure hubby realizes how stressful this is on my bipolar disorder recovery process. I tried to talk to him….to explain and there it was again-the ever hostile defensive mamas boy additude.

I would never ask him to choose between us. That would be very wrong in my opinion. But sometimes,I wish she lived in her own apartment. Sometimes, i wish it were just me and him. I feel awful but i do not always feel like i can handle all her challenges.

Sorry for the lengthy bitchy post

Sorry to get on my pedestal,

spouting what an angel,

I am-despite-the fact,

I know i can be difficult.

Especially during my manias,

or mixed episodes…

then I’m no angel-

i’m hell on wheels…a tortured soul,

spreading the misery, drama and what-not.

 

But sometimes, even when stable,

or steady, i got a lot on my plate,

filled to the brim of

“real” life drama issues…

 

Since I no longer have my

Community Mental Health therapist-just

a real nice Psychiatrist…

I really have nobody left to confide too.

 

I tell my husband things,

and my best girl pal,

but other than that,

it builds up.

 

A storm before the lightening comes.

A high-blowing, gasping wind,

A burning fire raging to the top,

my inner child fighting to remain

safe within-yet screaming all the same-

she wants out again.

 

A dose of PMS,

some raging hormones,

poor sleep due to a

horrid cold…

I could not help myself.

 

I had to puke the words out,

before my anger devoured me whole.

Smoldering in memories-

ugly, angry and bruised

my self-esteem fragments

of a shiny broken mirror.

 

i hate what i see.

she looks horrific, madder than hell,

this bitch mess of me,

i do not recognize the lips

which snarl, the wide eyed angry stare.

 

i cannot look myself in the mirror today.

i do not dare.

 

Sometimes i need to just vomit the ugly,

right out of my vocabulary,

before i drown-

in a tidal-wave sea

of resentment or agony.

 

Gotta get rid of this feeling,

a feeling like raw violence-

like punching a wall,

or banging my head against a door-

 

until it’s bleeds…

or the door magically opens,

just a crack

letting the sunshine in.

You ate what???

ridiculous,
righteousness
reveals=revelery.

rock and roll…
and, here we go;
Beauty Queen,

aged by Gravity-
expanded by:
personal growth

and swallowing whole,
an entire
personal fitness coach—-gulping them down whole-
gulping them down

snake-wise style.

clearly, the only explanation,
for jumping jacks for numbers between,
size 3-23.

What has happened to the REAL ME?
Did I eat her entirely and completely,
away?

Never Once a Beauty Queen,
much more,
a Beauty Scream.

Nothing shocks like
Lightening Rocks.

updates on “Memoirs recalled Madness” by Emily Sturgill, 2013

After, I thought I was really finished-I changed my mind. I decided that there was a bit more story to tell. So it went from being 73 pages to now becoming 88 pages. Still not very long as far as this type of genre goes…but it is very hard to writing a personal story when some of your memories have been blacked out from tramatic issues or simply manic episode issues.

“Madness recalled memoirs: a personal acconut of living with manic-depressive illness.” is now available again on kindle, with my revisions. The paperback we are still working on-it think it maybe available this weekend Friday or Saturday. This is because normally, I just take advantage of free self-publishing options. The pperbacks through createspace.com are made on demand, which i really nice because it does not cost a fortune to do this.

Yet, they offer a tempting on notch up-option- of expanded distrubution, for a one time fee-(i hope)of $25 per book. Normally, I do not even have $25 which says alot of not so awesome things about me-but basically-I am a struggling author/artist/poet.

My husband is willing to front me the money after he gets paid and thats not untill tomorrow-so we shall see. Like I said with my other books, I never chose this option before.

My other books by the way are mostly a blend of fiction, free-verse, poetry and some of my artworks. There are 7 total so far, just this year. 2013.

This 8th book, is more like a narrative. I tried to do the best writing I could do. It was very difficult to stay track on one topic without getting lost off to the left of right of my original topic and lost in the bushes. I did try. I am pretty much stable these days. but i was not always, and I thought it was important to tell that side of it too. It is all about my battle with bipolar. It goes through childhood to diagnosis, all the way up to my life now.

I was hoping to write a book that could try to explain living with a mental illness to those who do not have one but comfort those who do. Prices previously quoted will remain the same-I believe-$9.99 on kindle and $15.99 as a paperback.

I went back into my book and added a few personal photos-mostly of dead persons-because they do not get mad much. I was raised in a semi-abusive environment-with both parents having mental illnesses. As well, as having alcoholism in my family tree all over the place. I learned early on-that everything going on at home, was “private” or “secret.” which is pehaps the reason i feel guilty even telling the story at all. Also perhaps way, I changed everybodys name to something fake except my own-even my hubsands name-even though he may have not minded-all names were invented into some sort of fakery. I do use my own name. That one is real.

I even decided to omit names of places, cities, or towns….my thoughts were a story like mine could happen anywhere in the usa and i wanted readers to be able to relate to that concept.

New book now Available for purchase on kindle: Memoirs recalled Madness

This one is a bit longer, and took a bit more work on my part-it is 73-75 pages long. It is mostly a personal narrative account of my life-long story with the mental illness, formerly known as manic-depression.Nowadays, most people simply call it “Bipolar Disorder”. I do like the original name better, perhaps because that’s what they called it when i was first diagnosed over two decades ago.

http://www.amazon.com/dp/B00C145EOU

If you click on the link above: you can also click on something called look inside this book. That will show you initial and original personal artwork by me and also my table of contents.It is a personal narrative, yet the names of everyone who is not me-have been changed to maintain their privacy. I am also quite aware that due to the nature of my illness my point of view may somewhat be distorted, which is another reasons for not using “real” names. My own name is real.

It is my hope, in writing such a personal memoir/narrative, and sharing some of the uglier details-persons who also live with a mental disorder-or a SMI-(Serious Mental Illness) or who have been recently diagnosed as such or family members of such persons or even professionals who work to help these people may gain insight but also perhaps a dash of “hope” from my story.

It is $9.99 on the kindle. The paperback version will be released probably later this week or this weekend. It will be $15.99. The paperback is 8.5 x 11, white pages with some colored images-there is art-of course-but a bit less then in some of my poetry and artist chapbooks. The focus here is more on the story, the experience of living with a mental illness. I’m sure there is plenty, that I did omit. One thing, is I felt strongly not to list names of cities or places for the most part. I wanted to give the impression that this story-my story- could take place in Any City-Any Town-Any State in America. This is not an “every-man” experience of mental illness, however, it is my own unique experience. That being said, I do believe others with SMI-have experienced similar things during times of illness.

Even with changing names it is scary to release such a book. Certain family members would be highly upset-but I changed their names too-and I am not writing this for them-I am writing this for YOU. My readers of my blog, or your friends or neighbors or whoever. It is not always a pretty story. But it was an honest as I possible could be. and if it even helps one person feel less alone-so be it.

memoir of a life filled with crazy

I have noticed lately,
and by lately, what,
i really mean is:
the last ten years.
is there have been a large
amount of personal accounts,
written on bipolar disorder/manic depression.

my therapist from community mental health,
who i saw once every two-weeks,
over a nine year period,
until i was put onto my husbands health coverage,
and they said i could no longer come there-
(it turned out my dear therapist retired around the same-time)

Anyways, she always said, Emily
you should write a book,
about your life and your illness.

She thought, I was some sort of
gem of wisdom in the raw,
i think.

Anyways, yesterday I tried,
to start writing such a personal account-
and it is agony.

So much easier to write poetry,
and share artwork,
than to share a personal story.

i only wrote 20 pages, before i
realized, there was a hell of a lot,
of my story i was leaving out.

I’m not sure if i will continue on-
with it or not…
I realize personal accounts of mental illness,
sell much better than poetry.

i’m not sure how much i am willing,
to share with everybody.
i’m under the impression that a memoir,
is supposed to be a real account…

But the art therapist in me,
insists I could never write real persons names,
in such a book.

I would have to use pseudonymous,
fakery-type phony names.
I would not change the details- maybe just the names,
and also the places,

but then would not such a work be fictitious?
Would that defeat the point?

As it is, if i tell people,
what happened from my point of view,
it is going to be sketchy, due to
the nature of crazy,

the nature of my own
personal type of
crazy.