Pain of plenty

The pain of plenty-

Awoken at 3:30 Am

pain washes over me

i ride it like waves

as a surfer surfs the shore

i ride it until

it don’t hurt no more.

The pain of plenty-

living with a chronic

pain condition

is frightening.

Until it becomes obvious-

most other persons

remain oblivious….

as i try

to just suck it up

like a little

piece of doom and misery-

drunk up with a straw.

And it’s the last,

straw i mean

the one that broke the camels…NO WAIT-

the straw that broke MY OWN back.

and sometimes i do not

handle it very well.

sometimes i do not

handle it well

at all.

instead I just smile

like a cheshire cat

and smoke my nicotine

in cigarettes, instead of a pipe.

I just smile and picture

the innocent people without

my disease, as if

I could whisper it into their ear

and then they could

twist, convulse contort and cry

for a while.

Just imagine all the haters

and the ones who do not believe-

just imagine them twisting into the wind

like a kite and sailing down

into my bloody landscape

my real estate

that’s constantly

up for sale-

somewhere in Hell.

Some scary place

Acrylic mixed media pumice gel painting 1996 canvasboardSome scary place by Emily Sturgill, June 8, 2013

Saturday noon-ish

Some Scary Place-

Some scary place, inside deep beneath,

the outskirts of the insanity of my mind.

So scary– to have another episode, yet one, without

the magic bells and whistles warning us-

of the turbulence of the unsettled waves

of my un-hinged mind…a wild ride..onto hypomania and beyond.

  • A scary place, deep beneath, my sane sweet spot,
  • lurking lost in the corners
  • of a rambling, crumbling brain.
  • i cannot believe it happened again
  • i cannot believe we did not catch it-before i ran away again.
  • i am always running away from home, this is a safe place, yet i continue to flee-
  • time and time again it happens to me-but not just me-to my husband too…i leave him behind and run swiftly away, trying to catch up an runaway mind blazing through paranoid thoughts, anger, depression, mania, madness, delight and terrifying fright.

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.

Obsessive Personality Traits

I grew up with two mentally ill parents.

My mother was the Manic-Depressive,

but Darling Dad was the Obsessive Compulsive Disorder-Type.

I like to think I take after them both.

I like to think somewhat, I am nothing like either one of them,

at all.

I get most of my crazy from my Mommy,

that’s just how the chips were stacked against me.

Keeping this in mind, however, I do have

certain quirks or obsessive traits just like my Father.

One, fine fault, is I can never completely let go-of the past-of

MY very own past, and the people who once were important in it-

no matter how briefly.

It makes no sense to me,

perhaps it is my Artist side, to obsess to focus exclusively,

on past acquaintanceship, friendship, or romantic entanglements.

Sometimes, i feel as though I am under,

someone’s else’s spell,

some voodoo  monster-minotaur,

vulture, preacher,saint, and sinner-

Some damned Fool!!

Like the Start of Every Journey,

in the Tarot Deck begins with Zero,

and the Major Arcana  begins with The Fool.

a Fool’s journey-

from here to there,

no-place, nowhere and everywhere in between.

I get stuck in the soft even spaces,

in the corners of my

crumbling ruins of a

very lost mind.

I get stuck on notions of persons,

I once had knew…

and to me (well yes, because i am crazy) these memories, feel like mere moments ago,

although its been 20 years or more or less,

I cannot guess.

I try to do the easy math you add-

then subtract….

the people who stay with you for the long haul,

are the ones who matter most….

still there are times,

when i become,

haunted by ghosts,

of memories,

from so very long ago-

feeling an obsessive, excessive, amour

for a single stranger or two, who I once shared

an agape, platonic, type of friendship for…

nothing makes sense anymore.

I realize I am happily married….

but occasionally my mind torments itself-

with these useless haunting’s

of Ghosts they have simply refused to

vacant my premises, pack up their night bags, leave

my mind in tact,

and go away.

And, I feel it’s definitely all one-sided,

my own fault, for obsessing in this way-

for some strange Fool, who would now,

never stop to even give me-

the time of day.

play on words

it’s a play on words,

you’ve heard the expression,

i’ll bet-ever wonder what it meant?

Me too. Is a play on words,

a satire? Or an allegory? A metaphor?

A Simile?

Some sarcastic S.O.B-lost in the sea-of his own,

word-fish? an invention of putting nonsense words together.

Strung along in a row, like the finest beads…

wearing a necklace as you go,”Hello.” and “thank-you, please.’

 

It’s a play on words-sorta-day.

silly nap-cat

sleeping in my lap,

as she-

stretches paw-wards, and towards,

my computer-lap-top-keys.

 

Its a play on words,

kinda day…

just got word that,

one of my many “in-laws”,

is worried over my well-being,

again.

 

Oh, Joy, its just a nice way,

of saying, we thinking you’ve

gone crazy again, oh crap!

Some manic-expression,

no not I.

Not now, not this time…

but thanks again for asking….

Truth be told,

I’m just mostly stoned,

taking prescription pain meds-

for my Endometriosis again…it makes

me a bit high, but not like mania.

 

Mania is a big, huge, high-one which I

cannot control nor hide nor lie.

this is more like static interference,

on the tv screen of my brain.

 

no, don’t worry,

I have not gone back,

to that land called crazy.

 

for now at least,

i am fine.

i understand your worries, concerns and fears.

but right now they are un-founded.

 

When its the real deal-

you really do not even have to ask-

its quite obvious.

 

Screaming like the tight RED RED RED, dress

on my back with the over the top make-up,

and the nonstop clatter of chatter,

from these lips.

 

While, it hurts me that your asking,

it does make me feel better,

that at least,

you do really care.

(even if you are wrong this time)

 

the devil and daniel johnston

http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0436231/

there is a documentary about a musician singer-songwriter Daniel Johnston. He is still alive, and I think recently he may have put out more music with his band-it maybe a new band-i am uncertain. I just wanted to say this is a great documentary about living with a mental illness. Daniel is an accomplished Artist, Musician, and singer-song-writer. He also has bipolar disorder.

It is a good movie to check out the link above tells you more about it, if mental illness even interests you & its fine if it does not.

I was going to try to write a poem about him. but i kinda feel all blanky-blank now.

The Devil & Daniel; by Emily Sturgill

The Devils gotcha by the coat-tails again,

Dan you really better run,

the devils gonnna catcha,

Steal your music-lyrics and all;

and make your head spin.

Dear daniel,

the drawings you have been making,

are fricking amazing- but it won’t stop,

the demons from coming- right out of no-where-

they are everywhere,

I’ve got them too,

much worse than bed-bugs, are thought-flies,

they creep out of your brain,

crawl under your skin-and then what?

 

Is that when, you begin?

to write music, to draw pictures, does your art

really save your soul?

I’m just wondering because Art and Music, have saved mine.

You and I

are not so different…

Your somebody famous, while I am not, but…

I’ve got demons too.

in the end it all-always works out.

You just gotta have faith,

in something better.

 

Long day…

it’s been a real long day..

and my brain feels like its fried,

my mind is filled with random cuss words,

and swears, i just hate everybody today.

ever have one of those days? When everything started, out on

a sour note, flatten,off key-off pitch, and of course it all continued to crash,

down on me, since there, a clang of thunder, a loss of appetite,

a bad mood, which only gets worse, fueled by not enough food,

and too much vice, coffee, smokes, apathy and spice.

Just randomly feeling like i got up off the wrong side of the bed today.

Except, i didn’t. I was fine until you left the house for work, entirely pissed off at me.

I cannot stand it when you are so very angry and critical,

your beautiful blue eyes stab me,

with their glare.

I am left in fragments, scattered like the victim of a hurricane,

i became displaced, by that one angry, evil

look on your face.

I let it ruin my entire day. and it’s not fair, it was not even an argument,

like grown ups have. Instead it was you, getting pissed off and leaving in a huff and a rush.

I have that angry look you gave me imprinted visually onto my brain- like the X on a pirates map. Instead, of treasure, i get to know, i somehow effed up and wronged you again…is it any wonder why i could not even eat any food today? 

You left me in shambles, and in low-self-esteem.

When you get mad like that, i feel like a victim, like i am under attack-

Except No, you won’t let me be a victim, because you are way too caught up in always being the injured party, your own self. So no, clearly you are the victim, who i have destroyed with my passive apathy. Real adults i have heard, can talk stuff out without the temper tantrums without all the painful drama. There is something some folks called compromise. But you won’t be familiar with that shit. It’s always your way or the highway. I know this,but i love you despite it.

yule tide cheer

I just spent at least 3-4 hours baking cookies for my nieces and nephew.I have been with their uncle 12 years now and they have grown up before my eyes. The youngest is almost 16.

I do not know whatever possessed me to start baking. It is not normally my thing. I am entirely wore out now. I made chocolate chip cookies last night, along with peanut butter candies and peanut butter chocolate bars. Today, it was spice cookies from scratch from a recipe i found on http://www.allrecipes.com. It took all day! I started around one o’clock p.m. and did not finish till 4:30.p.m. I guess, i just wanted to do something for them, which would be from me personally. There is a total of 5 nieces and two nephews but, 2 of the nieces and 1 of the nephews we hardly see anymore since their parents got divorced.So I just made cookies for the 4 that i do see. And made a cookie baggie for my younger brother-he’s 30 now, but i still think of him as my baby brother.

Christmas and Thanksgiving are big times for getting my mother in law bummed out. My husbands family and extended family is huge, and she just cannot accept why everybody does not like everyone else. So I am hoping that this year she has a small bit of happiness. She told me, privately, that everybody better come this year because she may not be alive for another Christmas. She says stuff like that a lot-especially to me. She does have some major health issues, a history of heart attacks, a stent, thyroid issues and diabetes 2. She is only 62 though and very prone to being overly dramatic. I suspect she has been suffering for Major Depression, ever since her husband died in 2006. She has survivors guilt big time. She feels guilty that he was the one who passed.Cancer is an ugly beast. Not too much to say. They were married 42 years. She got married young only was 15.She has been a bit lost since his death.I really doubt that this will be her last Christmas.

I tried to tell her, you never know when your time is up.I said you may live another 15 years.I don’t know how to help her-she seems to take pride in being miserable and finding fault with everyone. Still, she has a big and giving heart. She loves her family very much. She is just deep down very sad, that the great love of her life is gone. 

I do not know what to say. It is like the big elephant in the room. He’s gone, and everyone misses him-but they really do not say much. I miss him too. He was my friend.