Waltzing Through Black Holes

Going down the wrong road

Is easier than finding your way back

It’s simple to slide through the mud

And dance through black holes

But getting out of them

When your feet are stuck in outer space

Is nearly impossible

Ballroom dancing turns to bawling

Skipping feet turn to skipping hearts

My heart pounds with each attempt to break free

My muscles are falling apart

My brain is turning into pieces

Puzzles of blurry images

And jagged edges that don’t seem to fit

I look down below me

I see a kaleidoscope

It brings more colors

And I think I am continuing to safety

But in reality it messes up my steps

Drunken staggering

Then I think

Maybe I don’t need to turn around

Maybe I need to keep trudging through the mud

And waltzing through the black holes

Until I reach stable land

And find out that I am who I am

Because of my walk down the road


They say the hardest thing about recovery

Is making it not to the start

But to the end of a long hard path

Where you can start again



Possession by the devil 

The one that lives inside

Trying to make sure I’m not me

Hoping I will die


What is the devil ? you say

He’s the throbbing in my gut

Taking over my actions

Making me mess up


He controls each movement

Every fleeting thought

Makes them his by grabbing

Even when I say stop


I want an exorcism

To ease my inside pain

I was a calm little girl

Now this rock has make me insane


I can’t separate from my demons

I can’t leave them behind

They are still attached

My body will never be mine


I can escape the drowning

For a day or two

Then it comes back as if

It had a special cue


I won’t let go too easy

It chose that for me

My path has been decided

I will never break free


New Medicine

It’s about to get real. I’m on my second night of my new pill.

Tomorrow morning, I have to get blood drawn. I’m going to have to get it once a week for six months, or 26 weeks in a row, and then every 2 weeks for six months.

Friday I have to go see my psychiatrist. I’ve been seeing him weekly for a while, but now I have a whole list of appointments set up. The reminders were handed to us like arcade tickets, accepted at an arcade where the prizes are medicines, and the queues are waiting room chairs. I also expect the phone calls two days before the appointment, where they say name name in an eloquent tone.

I’m not doing this because I want to. I’m doing this because I have to. The new pill I was put on is a last resort medicine when nothing else will work. I’ve tried nearly every anti-psychotic and the ones that are left are not much different from the ones I have tried.

My psychotic features have been getting worse, as has my mood symptoms. I have been having manic episodes more often than I ever have before My hospitalizations had stopped when I was 16 and started up again at age 16. As a 19 year old, I have had four hospitalizations between September 2015 and July 2016, due to either severe manic or depressive episodes, part of my bipolar disorder.

I’ve been on so many medicines, that my doctor decided to start me on the one I started last night. It is made to treat schizophrenia, but can be used to help with treatment-resistant bipolar disorder.

The blood tests are needed to make sure my white blood cells don’t drop too low. If they do, I could either catch a serious illness or even die. This is not a comforting thought, but hopefully the blood tests will catch it if it does happen. There is a very low chance it will happen. There are a whole slew of other side effects that could happen. That is why I need to see my psychiatrist so often, so he can make sure everything is going smoothly and adjust the medicine if necessary.

I woke up this morning feeling like I was filled with lead and had a head full of fuzz. I was tired all morning, but as the day I went on, I started to feel more alive.

I hope this medicine works, because I need some relief from my mental illness. I know the medicine isn’t everything, but it is a support. I have hope for the future, and hope that the days of a fuzzy head and a body of lead are soon behind me.

Here’s to hoping for the future.

I’ll Keep Living Until I Pop

I’m in a situation

Where I can’t seem to find

A light at the end

No imaginary friends

I want everything to be fine


I’m in a bit of a car wreck

Where the only survivor is me

I look around

No one to be fine

I guess only I can see


I’m falling apart into pieces

That nobody can restore

I try to stand still

But my brain never will

And will forevermore


I’m turning into a monster

Who scan’t speak or think straight

I growl to my peers

I pull off their ears

So they don’t hear all my self hate


I’m trying so hard to grow up

Hanging on until the day

When I can take the pill

And stop writing my will

So the pain will all go away


I’m not suicidal at all

Yes I have had my thoughts

The screaming inside

The tears I have cried

Makes me know I need to stop


I’m not in the mood to be happy

Not possibility now

I’m not going to lie

I know I’ll be fine

But the emotions fly out


I’m going to keep trying

Who knows if I’ll succeed

I’d rather do well

Learn how to handle hell

Than go to heaven and impede


I’m sick of the whole world

I’ll keep living until I pop

That will be some time

Not easy, not prime

My life has reason to not stop

Half Mast (All Will Be Okay)

I fall asleep

I can’t dream

All I see

Is falling dreams


I jump so high

But I can’t fly

White wings have died

Now black touches the sky


I paint the ceiling

With ink and wrong feelings

Not wrong, but they’re stealing

My fishing rods not reeling


The fish are not biting

So put it down in writing

I don’t want to keep fighting

Yet my words keep on trying


Push me ahead

Into my future instead

Of this life I have led

All the pain I’ve been fed


Lend me my glass

I’ll fill mine up last

So I’ll leave my past

With its flag at half mast


I’m trying to find

What I have left behind

I know I’ll be fine

Once I draw a fine line


Between love and pain

Between in sync and insane

Between sunshine and rain

All will be okay

Paranoid and Stressed

I know I get paranoid

I know the voices get annoyed

When I scream back at them

When their song sounds like a hymn


They whisper sweet nothings my way

They don’t want me to get through the day

Make me want to disappear

They make me wish I wasn’t here


The people around me I don’t trust

Each one I expect a band or a bust

A shoot in the air makes me think we’re all dead

Then I remember it’s all in my head


Sounds aren’t real, but neither am I

They drink my tears as I start to cry

Want to tell people they aren’t here

All I do is let out one tear


Then I explode just like the bomb

That people place so I’ll be gone

I have fears, each one a mess

I guess I’ll just live inside my stress

Another Day, Another Appointment

I am tired.

I went to my psychiatrist appointment today, after going every week for about a month and a half. This was no exception. I went in to the appointment with a paper to remind me of a question my dad wanted me to ask. I also went in with my own question. That question was “Do I really have schizoaffective disorder?” I truly believed I did, but my parents suggested I ask to make sure.

After signing in, I sat down in the waiting room for all of one minute. I was the only one waiting. When I was called back, I got weighed and had my oxygen levels checked. My weight has been going up since I got off Adderall and was put on a medicine that made my appetite go up to high levels. I am not happy about that at all, as I am extremely self-conscious about my looks, especially my weight. It makes me feel terrible that I have gained so much weight, and I’m afraid I’m going to get to the point where I go back to my unhealthy eating behaviors. I’m trying hard not to.

The nurse led me back to the other waiting room. This one has a comfy couch that I enjoy sitting on. My appointment was scheduled for 12:40 PM and I like to be called back earlier than or at the time it is scheduled. I get nervous when he is late. That happened today, and I started rocking back and forth to calm down. He finally got me at around 12:55 PM.

I went in with my questions and prepared to answer the ones he threw my way. I told him that my new medication, Depakote, was working well. It really is, and my mood is getting more stable every day. However, the psychotic symptoms are just getting worse.

I asked him about the schizoaffective diagnosis, which he told me had been a mistake on his part and I was actually diagnosed with Bipolar I. The paper now says that my bipolar is mixed, severe, and with psychotic behaviors. I don’t believe my episode is severe, and am wondering if he put the wrong diagnosis. I doubt he would do it again.

Suddenly, I felt tears coming to my eyes. It started out as a sniffling soft cry and turned into me being a full blown sobbing mess. He asked me if I needed to go to the hospital, which I told him I definitely didn’t need to. Then he suggested a medication he called the “gold standard”. He explained to me that it was a medication that worked really well for psychotic and mood symptoms. However, it has many possible bad side effects. First of all, it can lower your seizure threshold. Luckily, I am taking two anti-seizure medications. It can also cause white blood cell counts go down. To check this, I have to get my blood checked once a week for six months. This sounds awful, but I’m willing to do anything to feel better. The medicine can also cause dizziness when standing, but I have that already.

I went to get my father so we could discuss the medicine with him. He said that it sounded good, and that the help it would give me would outway the bad. We also talked to my mother when we got home, who agreed with me and my father.

I have an appointment next Friday, and will most likely be put on the medicine. You might be wondering why I said I was tired at the beginning. I am sick at doctors. I am sick of medicine. I am sick of feeling the way I do. However, I know I need to deal with  all of this to finally feel better. If I give up, nothing will get better. So, I’ll keep on going to doctors. I’ll keep taking my medicine. I will keep working on feeling better, no matter what it takes.