empty hollow heart

empty hollow heart-

by emily sturgill dec 27,2014

empty hollow heart

peek inside

as i fall apart.

there is nothing left

but madness here.

my insides are ugly

and i don’t wanna hear,

about The law of Attraction

or the power

of positive thinking.

i don’t want to hear

i choose to be victimized

i choose to be labelled insane

as if it was my choice

or some sort of fucked up game.

like why would i choose to be

something that makes

society

hate me?

as if i merely thought more positively

i would not be completely

fucked up and crazy?

like it’s my attitude that needs fixing,

all the while I pop all these prescription pills

and drugs, to fix my negative attitude?

As if a car does not need gasoline to run?

Some people say, its just a “chemical imbalance” that gets in my way.

that if i take enough drugs, somehow i could be

someone to love?

if i lived in another time frame,

if i lived in a different culture,

i might have really been somebody

like a medicine doctor, or a prophet, or a seer

instead i am stuck, right over here, in a box

labelled crazy, caution, do not touch.

And all the positive thinking in the world

it just does not

“fix” people like “us”.

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the Monster of me

the Monster of me-

12/27/14

by Emily Sturgill

the Monster of me-

you cannot see

from the outside, but,

on the inside

there is a Monster of me.

deep inside a divided mind-

there is a Monster of me

It’s ugly, and messy,

It’s broken, jagged, sharpen edges

with rotted teeth

with the violet violence of despair.

Deep down inside me,

lies horrible truths, like Anger, Depression, Sadness and Fear.

it eats away at me from the inside out.

leaving nothing but

this empty shell

of a young looking pretty

40 something, crazy cat-lady,

bag lady, bag lady, i’ve been there before.

the Monster of me

is what you cannot see.

I appear normal enough

but i am raw to the touch.

and the tears just flow

like a faucet with way too much

draino.

I can appear to be

almost anything. Confident, witty or artsy-

or quiet and shy,

but deep down inside

an unraveling mind,

lies the Truth

I am mentally ill.

I am dangerous

I am to be feared

and never understood.

I am just another anonymous Statistic

I am just another runaway lunatic

I am just another victim

of my own unhinged mind.

I live with bipolar disorder

and that feels like a Crime.

the Monster of me

i keep her chained to the bed

on a dirty mattress

She’s the darkest deepest secret

the Horror in my head.

Stigma sneaks in…

Having a SMI
is not an easy life.
SMI stand for Serious Mental Illness

Sometimes people, even our
so called “friends”
do not have the strength
or reasoning to understand.

And that’s the point of
No return.
That’s where
Stigma sneaks in.

Like a thief in the night
Like darkness or blight
Like a shadow in the brightest
possible light….?

that is where
Stigma sneaks in.

Many are concerned
with mental health
especially when its
happening to others

around us, but just not US.

Sometimes people would
much rather be blind
than search for a light.
than search for some hope,
in the darkest of night.

So that is where
Stigma sneaks in.
Turning Friend against Friend.

Coloring the daily news
with reports of violent
“mentally ill” criminals
Coloring the minds

of everyone we know
making them think
at any moment,
like ticking time bombs,
we will blow.

I’ve lost a few friends
maybe someone you know?
Due to my illness, my differences,
the parts of myself
I dare not to show.

But still they are there.
The things that make me
different from you.

And that’s the point of
No return.
That’s where
Stigma sneaks in.

Like a thief in the night
Like darkness or blight
Like a shadow in the brightest
possible light….?

that’s where Stigma sneaks in.
that’s where friendships end,
due to ignorance and fear.

there’s nothing I can say
or do to change your mind
we already have been through
this all before.

you say its not my illness
but I do not believe you
anymore.

Sadly, seriously?

Sadly, seriously?

Somebody I love suffers from

a form of

clinical depression.

Whether its mild, or major, or seasonal, or dysthmic?

I really do not know nor do

i even care.

What i do care about,

is that he is mere inches away from getting help for it.

Sadly, Seriously?

The people in his family just do not

“get’ mental illness-they do not understand,

what is really is and what it is not.

Even though he has me, been very supportive of me-

all the manias, depressions and the in-betweens.

he still cannot, quite understand about depression.

That even if its not bipolar, being depressed is just

as real and just as serious.

He thinks/feels/acts like life must

always be THIS WAY-hard, sad, angry,lonely, slightly

just ever so slightly, a tad bit

suicidal.

But we had a break-through in therapy

today-meaning naturally i ratted him out.

I told the truth about what b.s. he says

and whats it really about.

Normal folks do not make jokes,

that when things are tight or rough,

maybe they should just go kill themselves?

Sadly, Seriously.

He’s napping now.

And I feel better that we dropped off a script

for him this time.

He accused me , that i only want the rest

of the world to be diagnosed something,

so i will feel less lonely.

And i said no thats not it i just know,

a whole lotta crazy.

Sadly, seriously

if only i can get him to give them-the anti-depressants-

a chance to work, maybe then

he will feel lighter, feel better , feel more even

and less likely to buckle

under all his mixed up emotions.

That its ok to feel this way, but you do not,

have to feel depressed and miserable everyday.

Sadly seriously

I hope that this will help him.

Maybe someday he will realize,

there are many choices in your life,

but being constantly miserable

is only one of them.

The shape and size of stigma

The shape and size of stigma,

it might surprise you. Sometimes it is overwhelmingly Large, Black, and Evil.

You can recognize it by it’s shape of jagged, broken and mean edges.

But not always true.

Sometimes the shape and size of stigma

may shock and surprise you.

Stigma can be seen lurking in the shadows,

among a loved ones face.

Stigma can take the size and shape and form

into the agony of un-relentless “grace”.

Stigma can form your friends and loved ones

into the bare bones of what you believed them to be.

It is the reality of you verses me.

It is the ignorance and confusion in your eyes.

it is the question on your lips-?

She must be sick again, then because, I do

not “get it”.

She must be off her rocker, off her meds, ignoring her doctor…

She must BE: C-R-A-Z-Y. because she is different than me.

Stigma comes in all shapes and sizes.

It may just surprise you.

Some folks cannot possibly understand.

Even though, there are medications

to help the symptoms of mental illness-

the pills themselves do not “cure” mental illness-

the way aspirin “cures” a headache.

The mental illness is part of me-

whether you can accept that or understand it-

i really no longer care.

Your name calling-& your blame calling,

I’ve had it up to here!

You will never understand that my life has daily struggles.

Despite my medications-which i never miss or forget-

Despite my strong relationship with my psychrachist

Despite all the other tons of things I must do each and everyday

to stay relatively stable-despite it all-the everything

Your going to judge me,

label me broken, label me inferior, label me crazy.

Just because putting others down

really makes you feel better about yourself-

for however briefly.

The shape and size of stigma:

it surprises me.

Coming from persons i thought

loved and knew me…but no.

Afterall, they were just waiting to pounce

on me, the moment I fell.

Excitement drips through the air:

Excitement drips through the air;

like liquid curiosity.

Excitement lingers sweetly,

like a musky perfume I cannot get rid of.

The waiting is like walking on eggshells.

The cliches are rampant,

filling my head with half-truths,

and half-forgotten phrases.

 

Waiting for my phone to ring (again)…

Hopeful that maybe, just maybe,

it could be good-no wait-great news!!!

 

The excitement comes in waves-

tension, built of nervous energy, and anticipation,

for the unexpected….

 

They called me once, and I missed their call.

I gave a call back and left a message.

Will i hear back before 5 pm?

I really do not know, slipping and sliding,

onto the edge of anticipation.

 

The question remains, will i finally get

a job or not???

Symbiotic

A union between two,
a joining of the hips together,
this old ball and chain,
loves playing in the rain.

Hocus-pocus,
Shazam! congratulations I now
pronounce you-Mr and Mr-or
Mrs. and Mrs.
In my dreams this maybe someday real.

For so many of my friends,
they are harshly judged
and discriminated against
simply for loving who they love
and why?

Love is not something up for debate.
It is something between two hearts,
that they alone create.
The Government should respectfully,
bow out.

It’s an issue for the Supreme Courts,
to decide to rule on, right now.

In my mind,
its something symbiotic.
You love who you love,
Just like I do too.

Two persons falling in love
no matter their age, gender or sexuality,
Love is Love.
And Love should always be rejoiced,
as something sweet.

To discriminate against
persons who love differently
than you, it is not just a matter
of ignorance it is a matter of bigotry/
a matter of hate.

I do not expect really;
to change anybodys mind who thinks,
differently than I do.

I gave up being naive-sometime ago.
but I find it very unfair,
to place everybody in the same box/
and insist that it is all the same

that everybody, is purely heterosexual,
I find that assumption not only
ridiculous, but cruel too.

A union between two,
a joining of the hips together,
this old ball and chain,
loves playing in the rain.

Depression

Dear Depression,

you are like my imaginary friend-everyone pretends is not real.

i am so frustrated, how many people underscore  your devastating effects/affects on persons with severe depression. True, in my unique case of the -bi-polar, over the years my manias have become much more worse, than my depressions. But that does not mean, i forgot about you or my friends who live with clinical and serious forms of uni-polar illness, also known as Major Depressive disorder or Great Depressive Disorder.

I’m just sick and absolutely amazed how many, persons that I know, who should know better but do not. Many of them still swear to the old adage,”pull yourself up by the boot strings.” or such. I was just informed by one of my relatives, that i simply, do not “get it” and that there is no magic cure or pill to swallow. This is one of the same persons always telling me to stay on my bipolar meds, and that i will need those the rest of my Life.

She’s probably right, that i just don’t “get it.” or that i am,”missing the point.” I am sorry but i have too many long-time friends, 20 yrs or more with persons who do have depression and must take pills, called anti-depressants, so that they don’t dive into the deep end again.

Why, can people, understand the bipolar-my illness-so much easier then the other? Depression can be very serious even fatal.People kill themselves all the time. It does not help when people boast about “getting your shit together” or”pulling your self together.”

I’ve been to both places. I have even tried attempting suicide once or twice.

It’s not a pretty thing to discuss, but it is much worse to ignore. To pretend that 4-6 hr crying jags non-stop are normal, or not getting dressed or showered for days on end, or becoming obsessed, with death is perfectly natural or normal, bothers me greatly.When i am truly depressed, i may sleep 12 hrs everyday-never leave my bed-stop eating-have trouble making even the simplest choices. Have an almost impossible inability to commit to any social plans….My sppech becomes what the doctors call”retarded” meaning very slow speech, patterns, long pauses, frequent ums, and i do not know…the tears, they never stop and they start without warning and if you ask my why i am crying, i really cannot tell you because i do not know. Those are the types of depressions i have had, and i have friends with similar episodes…one friend does not have health insurance and whenever she can not afford to go back to the dr to get her dose refilled of a popular anti-depressant-Lexaopro-she starts to lose her mind all over again and then she waits until it gets so bad she cannot function then she will finally invest the money to get more pills. It’s very heart-breaking to watch, her spin out of control. There is no way, she could just,”snap” out of it. Or “get her head together.”

I really hate when people act like they are experts on a subject, they really have never experienced. No, being sad is not the same. No, being briefly depressed because you lost a job or pension is not the same thing.

The Unipolar-Depressive Illness, is caused by a chemical reaction in the brain.Yes, there are”magic” pills that do in fact help or work. Obviously, whatever, you went through, it was not this severe. You are the one who “does not get it.”

But, I am not going to bother explaining it to you.

I think your mind is already made up, anyhow, just surprised and disappointed in how ignorant you of all people are on this topic. I thought you would know better. That really bums me out.