I forgot how hard this is.
Bipolar Disorder.
I forgot how it opens a plug and drains out all the color.
I forgot how it pours sludge into every thought.
I forgot how it grinds the gears of decision-making until they smoke and fail.
I forgot how much courage it takes to put on my coat.
I forgot how much the people who love me can’t stand it either:
I forgot how exhausting their good intentions can be.
I forgot how much I have to fight it.
I forgot how hard it is.
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SandySue Altered
Jan 27, 2016 @ 08:47:04
…. your power is penetrating…. thank you. I love you. laney
Jan 27, 2016 @ 08:52:34
I love you, too, dear-heart.
Jan 27, 2016 @ 08:54:50
Knowing that the color is still there behind the door……………….just waiting for your “bad-ass mama” to surface and kick the damn door in.
Love you!
Jan 27, 2016 @ 08:57:15
It’s really more like not fighting the drain. Bad-Assery helps me carry on in Black and White.
I love you, too, Friend.
Jan 27, 2016 @ 11:33:13
I’m so sorry to hear it. I love the card.
Jan 27, 2016 @ 17:08:33
Thanks, Friend.
Jan 27, 2016 @ 13:32:35
I don’t have any clever words friend… but you’ve got my love. Always.
Jan 27, 2016 @ 17:08:12
Oh, thank god. You know those clever words never help much.
Jan 27, 2016 @ 15:15:04
Everything seems so much harder in the dead of winter.
(Please don’t tell me you are in Australia 😉 )
Jan 27, 2016 @ 17:07:17
Iowa. And it is harder.
Jan 27, 2016 @ 19:44:42
But, yet, you keep firing. And do it so well. You and your post remind me of:
I woke up in pain, facing another day— no project beyond breakfast seemed tenable. I can’t go on, I thought, and immediately, its antiphon responded, completing Samuel Beckett’s seven words, words I had learned long ago as an undergraduate: I’ll go on. I got out of bed and took a step forward, repeating the phrase over and over: “I can’t go on. I’ll go on.”
~ Paul Kalanithi, When Breath Becomes Air (Random House Publishing Group. 2016)
Jan 27, 2016 @ 20:50:07
Bless you, yes. When you posted that, it was a mirror for me.
Jan 27, 2016 @ 20:20:19
“drains out all the color,” “pours sludge in”…these are powerful images, Sandy Sue. I read hope here, too…a time when these things were forgotten.
Jan 27, 2016 @ 20:52:40
They were forgotten, and I guess I’m still grieving that long spell of near-normal. But, this is my real “normal,” so the hope is that I know I will acclimate to this state again.
Jan 28, 2016 @ 19:51:09
Sometimes when all we have are small comforts, we piece ’em together the best way we can.
Jan 29, 2016 @ 12:40:34
I like that. A nice little quilt of yummy comforts.
Jan 28, 2016 @ 20:15:34
When things have been stable for a while, I forget too. Then reality hits. I love this poem. It really brings things into perspective.
Jan 29, 2016 @ 12:40:04
Thank you, Mommy. Gosh, it feels good to type that.
Jan 29, 2016 @ 04:11:33
Ugh Sandy…I’m sorry you’re in the muck. It really sucks down here. I haven’t been out of bed for two days. Know that you are not alone!
Jan 29, 2016 @ 12:39:35
Oh, sweetie, I hate it for both of us.
Jan 29, 2016 @ 13:22:21
me, too
Jan 29, 2016 @ 15:06:59
So sorry you’re going through this. Sending good thoughts.
Jan 30, 2016 @ 13:25:03
Thanks, Peg. Again. You’ve seen me through this a million times, it seems.