Empty Heart

My heart is empty

At the sickening news

Why can’t I feel

As others do

Why don’t I cry

Why don’t I weep

Why don’t I care

How can I sleep

And dream and live

As though nothing’s wrong

While others bleed

I sing along

As playlist finds

A happy tune

On this melancholy

Month of June

Dozens dead

And millions mourn

So why don’t I

Feel as forlorn

I know it’s sad

I know it’s wrong

So why can’t I

Grieve for the loss

Perhaps I’m cold

Perhaps a cynic

Is there perhaps

A caring clinic

A place to go

A place to learn

How I can care

And feel concern

I don’t know what

Is wrong with me

I cannot care

‘Bout pain I see

When your dreams betray you

Dreams are great, for the most part. You can meet celebrities, travel wherever you want to go, be another person … fuck, if you want to you can fly.

Then come those dreams that aren’t so great. I had one of those just now.

Before I write about that, a little backstory for you:

I’m bipolar. It’s under control for the most part, but it’s there. It might even run in the family; I’m no doctor, so I can’t say 100% for sure. Nature versus nurture and all that. But I have family was has been committed and I’m a direct descendant of a man who died in an institution. The cause of death? “Exhaustion in the progression of psychosis.” Now, I don’t think about this much and haven’t in a long time, but at times it does come to the forefront and it troubles me.

This morning it more than troubled me. It terrified me.

The dream started innocently enough. I was at work, and I was about to check the blood sugar of a patient who was getting very lightheaded and becoming incoherent.

Then the shit it the proverbial fan. I got in trouble for not using the right sterile technique (even though I ended up not doing the blood sugar check–the patient’s friend did) and then my boss started yelling at me for a multitude of things I had done wrong, including not decorating one of the rooms in the office properly (hey, it was a dream, okay?) and boring everyone with little factoids I kept talking about.

Then she had me committed.

It was terrifying. I could only see my husband for a short while, during visiting hours, and I couldn’t see my family at all. The kitchen fucked up my dinner–they didn’t tell me my food was ready and the macaroni and cheese got cold to the point where it was inedible. So there I was, all alone except for the other patients (who wouldn’t talk to me), and all I could think was I wasn’t allowed to see my husband and my family and how devastatingly sad I was that all of my coworkers thought the things I said were boring. It may not sound that bad, but remember, in dreams things can seem more real than reality.

That’s when I woke up sobbing uncontrollably, and my husband woke up for a moment to find out what was wrong.

I’m still crying a little bit, more than half an hour later.

This dream just hit me like a freight train. I haven’t thought about the familial mental health issues in what seems like forever, and work has been going pretty well. The last couple of days (when I was in charge because my boss was on vacation) went fine. So why did my subconscious betray me?

It’s hard to say. Sometimes dreams just pull stuff from the deepest part of your mind and bombard you with ghosts that you thought you had exorcised.

I’ve stopped crying now, but I’m not sure I’m ready to go back to sleep. I don’t want to end up on that little cot in the asylum again anytime soon.

Lazy Thursday Morning…for now

It’s morningtime before work, and usually I’m trying to be somewhat productive: writing, drawing, cosplay work, something. Today? Today I’m kind of just messing around on the Internet.

Sure, I have a news post to type up, but that won’t take me long. It’s just so nice to sit here, warm with my blankets and sweatshirt, and just be.

Do you ever take the time to just be? To forget that the world is spinning out of control and just be content in who you are and what you’re doing with your life? It’s surprisingly tough. We live in a society where not doing something is considered lazy, but it’s very important to take the time to focus on you every so often.

I’ve got some music to listen to, but otherwise I’m just existing. (Okay, so I’m typing up this post at the same time–hard to write about just existing while just existing.)

Of course, for some people just existing isn’t quite enough. Some people thrive on constant movement, constant activity, constant action. Me? I can handle it, but every once in a while I need to just be.

Take the time this weekend to just exist for a while. Zone out. Zen out. Whatever you have to do to connect with who you are. You’ll thank me for it later.

Throwback Thursday: Hostage in My Head

I don’t always post a Throwback Thursday, but when I do it’s usually art or poetry. Today, I’ve chosen one of my favorites out of the poems that I’ve written. It, along with other poems of mine, can be found in Kamikaze Butterflies on Amazon Kindle and in paperback on Amazon or Createspace. http://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B00PRGB1IM?*Version*=1&*entries*=0

Trapped alone

Awash in a sea of terror

No escape from my own deranged thoughts

Impossible futures scroll through my mind

Over and over on a continuous loop

My mental movie screen glows

As the macabre fantasy plays unbidden

Death and disaster overtake reality

Can’t focus on the here and now

When the “might be” looms on the horizon

Against my will my death plays out again

For the hundredth time this hour

I watch my lifeless form slide to the ground

Shot in the convenience store

Pulled from the mangled wreck

Coded mysteriously at work

At the sight of my imagined death

My heart rate soars and pounds

There’s nothing beautiful and delicate

About the kamikaze butterflies in my chest

Every single nerve

Teeters on the edge of a precipitous drop

With a nightmare at the bottom

Just one nudge

One little push

And everything will come crashing down

I tiptoe on the inside

Walking the fine line between sanity and oblivion

Pacing the padded room within my skull

Inside I scream for a reprieve, for escape

Even for sweet, sweet nothingness

But my calls go unheeded

The nightmare begins anew

I am my own personal terrorist

And I am the hostage


An active mind is a healthy mind

As I get ready for work today, I’m both dreading it (I didn’t sleep well) and looking forward to it. Why? Because I’m learning something new!

One of the things I love about my day job is that there is the constant opportunity to learn and keep my mind fresh. Healthcare is always changing, and there are always new things on the horizon.

When I worked retail, I felt stifled and drained. I didn’t have anything to look forward to when I clocked in except clocking out. Today, though, I am scheduled to learn a new position that will give me more to know.

Learning doesn’t have to be boring. Some people don’t do well in school because of the teaching methods, but they’re actually really brilliant. Everyone is brilliant in some ways. For some people it’s academics…unfortunately for others, it’s crime or something. But try to learn something (beneficial) as often as you can. Look up subjects that interest you. Heard about a new product and want to know more? Google or Bing it! Curious about the political situation? Search (reputable) news sites. What’s that suspicious mole? Well, best to go to the doctor for that one…but research the diagnosis after you see a physician.

Tears Unshed

I hate mental illness sometimes.

It just fucks everything up. I’m fine one minute, then sad the next. For no fucking reason. And it sucks.

There’s nothing that happened today to make me down, but since I’ve gotten home from work it’s started.

I feel hopeless. I feel like it’s never going to end–never mind that I don’t know what “it” is or why I want “it” to end. Don’t start freaking out though; I know that “it” isn’t life. I want life to keep going on. I don’t want that to end. Just…something.

It’s the usual depression symptoms. Loss of interest in the things I like to do. Withdrawal into myself. General malaise. It’s actually quite boring. I’m bored with depression. Go figure.

I’m just over it. Sick and tired of it. I need to kick my own ass into gear. Bust my chops. Smack myself upside the head and tell myself to quit whining and do something.

If only I could find the energy to do all that.

Three long weeks

Thanksgiving is coming up soon, but I don’t know if it will be soon enough.

With as hectic as work has been lately and as many hours as I’ve been getting, I’m becoming increasingly mentally drained. I can’t write. I don’t want to read or sew or draw or, well, do anything. I just want everything to stop.

No, not stop permanently. Just stop long enough for me to recharge. Regain my footing. Keep from losing my ever-loving mind.

I have a couple of tentative half days coming up before Thanksgiving, but I worry that they won’t be enough. There’s always something that needs to be done…and because of that, my brain is trying to shut down. Or at least part of it is. The emotional part. Well, the happy emotional part.

I can’t wait for those four and a half days where nothing is required of me other than to show up and hang out with family.

Three weeks. Three long weeks.