I don’t know how to feel “okay” anymore. Most of the time I am depressed and with that comes a lethargy, something that drains the life out of me. I find that I am not at all motivated. For instance, it takes a lot of effort to get up and cook.
Writing – for my book – is all but an empty promise to my self. It’s a three-pronged hook. 1) My memory can’t seem to find the connections to that vocabulary I used to have; 2) The creativity to come up with new scenes and dialogue is missing; and, 3) It’s all just a lot of work to get started on the projects. I have short stories that need to be fleshed out. I have poetry that needs to be revised. And I have details that need to be addressed regarding the book’s layout, format, font style, acknowledgments, indices, etc. Each step is a major struggle and I have talked my self out of it. I need a major turning around of my beliefs to get in there and fight it out.
It helps to peruse the blogs on WordPress and read how others are doing – what challenges they are overcoming, what beauty they see in life. I am almost jealous of the youth, for their worlds are ever ready, sitting out before them like blossoms in the morning dew just waiting for the sun to rise. I guess I miss that. That adventure and that is why I write. To regain that abandon, that wild and carefree existence.
Each of us has a voice. It can either be heard through painting, or cooking, or letter-writing, or restoring vintage automobiles, or nursing, or making scrapbooks. My voice is poetry – or “was” poetry. Something happened. Something stole my gift away from me. Try as I might, I cannot simply sit down and put pencil to paper and come up with the flashes of brilliance that marked my past. No longer can I turn a phrase as effortlessly as I used to. I have to work for it now. Even as I type this I take pause, regularly, to find the right words – and they just don’t come!
The medications I’m on boast a high success rate. But they should boast a high cost rate as well. The side effects are damning. But if I don’t take these meds I may end up in jail. You see, I’ve had the cops called on me because of my anger. I cannot set foot on Bank of America’s property because I had an exchange of words with the bank manager. And he called the cops. And, he called my employer. I am also blacklisted from working with that company anywhere in the U. S. And that wasn’t even the bad situation. I had the cops called on me at the Mental Health facility in our town and that just didn’t make sense to me. If I was having a mental breakdown you would think that that would be the place to get help. And looking back, that situation was really out of control. I don’t know how I managed to not go to jail that day. So, yeah, the meds keep me stable. But they also have robbed me of my life. The side effects are crazy.
First, I started having to pee frequently, like ten times a day. Then I started having the shakes. Soon I noticed I was gaining weight (30 pounds in two months). Before long I was not able to go to the gym and workout with weights anymore – I can’t even bench press 40 pounds! I can’t do one push-up. And that is not all, I am extremely thirsty, so much so that I take two bottles of water with me everywhere I go. I drink 3 gallons of liquids every day. Sometimes more. And then there is the cognitive confusion and mental degradation that I am experiencing. My short-term memory is shot: I have to make lists for everything; when I comment on other people’s blogs I continuously have to go back and reread their post so that I can properly comment. And my ability to come up with creative fodder is so damaged that it makes me want to cry. All this and more, because I have to take these meds. There is no going around it.
I recently went to go see my mom. My son and I stayed with her for two weeks and during that time I had a couple of blow-outs with her. I need my meds adjusted again. I can’t have my self getting out of control again. It’s just not worth it.
So today I am writing this in hopes that it will spawn some motivation. Motivation to get on that darned book and work on a few things. I used to be able to turn a phrase. I’d be happy now to just to be able to write enough to turn the page. LOL
Bipolar is a beeoottch and it is cruel. Thank God we’re not all this way. Thank goodness we are as different and varied as the blossoms and the wildlife. Each with our own talents and challenges. Thank you for taking the time to stop by and read this. I hope you stop by again and read some of my fiction or my poetry. I promise they are upbeat and full of good things. Not dark, dreary things like depression. Okay, there are a couple of poems that are dark. But hey, variety, right?!