poet in transition

i am in transition. i have been for 5 years, ever since i came back to reality from psychotic manic delusional paranoia that always ended in extreme depression because it blocked me from doing everything i set out to do. now i am in the position to appreciate me because i am finally getting things accomplished and moving. i am laying the foundation for a new life. it has already started with the drafting of the plans for the house that is my home....(devil be damned, because he is)


women in transition I
(we are strength)

we fight inside and

out

we don’t always win

we

will never give up

too many people depend on

our existence


women in transition

fight with ghosts in the night

to greet the mourning

with tears

in silence

in private

we wait

for sun

pray and start the day

no one sees the pain

we are quiet actresses

we orchestrate

symphonies that

manifest our

reality

we are

the creators of a

Fate

that manifests itself

inside first

working its way

out



we pray

and it changes us

therefore

we have a hand in

changing the world

we are strength



women in transition II

(we are Life)


sometimes

we think we are pain

when we

cry out

asking our God

to deliver us from

this and only this it

was all we needed

but the pain was still there

we

wrestled with it daily

we

wrestled with pain

we wrestled

through the night

until our Father

blessed us

He gave us Life

we are Life born of pain

we are strength we are Life...

 
women in transition IV
(we are Hope)


i thank God

my heart is

stronger than

my mind—and so is yours

my dear sister

in the natural order of things

we bring

we can carry

we will make

we are vital

reborn

fierce beauty

uncontested by time

a natural innocent experience born of promise

Faith

and Love

we are strength we are Life we are immortal we are everlasting time

we are Hope

the world cannot exist without us

we must keep

moving...


this has been the truncated version of my "transition suite in c."

bambi emotions and a rambo brain

who says God doesn't have a sense of humor? he gave me a bambi heart and a rambo brain that's always on turbo power in a most curt, highly enunciated and intelligent way.

and, i can't blame it on schizophrenia or bipolar. i've been like this all my life, sensitive and heavy-handed. now, it's worse now 'cause i don't know what or who to strike out against. maybe my meds need to be tweeked, i have to find out from the doctor today. it's so complicated being spiritual, creative, intelligent, trying to work and recover financially at 50. none the less, i'm still feeling blessed to be able to struggle this way. God could have left me struggling in psychosis for the rest of my life. at least i have a chance now.

but, you wonder about the people who put wellness and recovery and the person-centered care wheel together. did they try to participate in all the activities on the wheel or at least a substantial amount and if they did did they succeed?

i know that nothing comes without a price. and i'm willing to pay the price of a few bumps and bruises to be a whole person after being shut down for so long. mental illness is a bitch. i hope those of you who read this blog and do not have mental health concerns (psychiatric medicated ones) appreciate this fact, because it is a bitch "with a litter."

but, i truly believe that those of us who fight to climb out of the barrel of disability and financial help for housing and from our families are better off in the long run. we have to face ourselves honestly to recover and learn to like what we see. this is a lot more than most do and we can tell. 'cause the stigma makes it hard to discuss our stances, misgivings and shortcomings with you. one thing is for sure, with this illness, you find out who your true friends are, very fast.

see me

see me

crouched in a corner

holding my head

wishing I could disconnect

throw it in a trash can

i am crying

see me

walking down the street

with a hurt mind

invaded by everyone

who passes

i am crying

see me exfoliating faces

thinking only i know exactly

who’s behind them

see me

in terror because i think

someone

can read my mind

again

in terror/panic

see me

take the bottle of pills

because the pain

is

too much

to buy

see me now

fresh/dressed

no agonizing

contortions on my face

no hiding

you don’t see me

i see me

every day in the mirror

and remember the terror/the pain

of psychotic fantasies

and darkest night

longer than…

i cry

but then i pick up my face

the one my Father gave me

put it on

so you can see me

and i can live with

the mirror image

 sometimes...you don't like what you see...but you know tomorrow you might and you live for that  chance.

jaa

the paranoia still gets me...a question of Faith

why is it paranoia symptoms are the last to go? i always think that there's some kind of conspiracy surrounding my existence on any level you can think of...or i can think of...

i guess it would be okay, sort of, if it was just paranoia..but paranoia unchecked for me leads to delusions and erratic behaviors associated with them...which could lead to psychosis (heaven forbid).

right now, i find that some people are looking at me as if i have three heads. real or unreal, this is getting to me. it is happening only in certain arenas and i know i should be strong and fight the symptoms, but the pressure is getting to me and all i can think about is that i am not going off the deep end again...

it happened in church yesterday. i'm going to the service to praise my God and people are looking at me like i have three heads...now i can think of lots of reasons why...first, being i made the mistake of disclosing with a minister to explain my spiritual position in the journey...other reasons could come into reason...anyhoo,who can praise and worship in that environment...it makes me most uncomfortable.

if i'm wrong, i'm still not going delusional by staying there...i also had a problem with the church before this but it was not imagined or intuitively reached at...

so, i have come to a grave conclusion...i have visited most of the churches in the area to find those two, so, i have decided to take a break from organized religion until i move...this is for real...i am not going backwards...i won't...

this is not to say that i don't believe, have Faith in, Trust with all my heart and talk to my God...I could not exist, let alone thrive like that and thrive i plan to do. let the devil be damned, as he is. but, some folks in organized religion just don't fit the definition of Christian to me (and i know i'm not supposed to judge). How can you call yourself Christian when on the most fundamental level you don't come through. churches, i have found are either fakes (all sanctified when they don't really mean it, it's an act) or highly political and only interested in the people who are "somebody" others are non-existent even if they try to work in the church.

and i know Jesus wouldn't have it this way, for me to give up on organized religion...he put a lot of emphasis on gathering and the disciples after he left addressed Christians in churches. but, this is not enough to hold me when i am in danger of delusions and subsequent erratic behavior...no thank you...i don't really want to worship with people  like that anyway. but i don't think i have a choice.

the only problem i have is.....where do i pay my tithes?

signed
churchless in central new jersey

inheritance

We as mental health consumers have a higher rate of smokers than the general population. I was a smoker for 35 years. It started out as a teenager just being cool, but after I got sick, I found the habit a big help even though I knew it wasn't good for me. Also, I had suicidal ideations everyday that I fought, so what did I care. This is a peice I want to get printed in the newsletter, CHOICES, a consumer run smoking information presentation service.

Inheritance

It’s been 10 months and I still sometimes want a cigarette. I have to reinforce myself by thinking, but I’m a non-smoker.

Ironically, a CHOICES presentation started me thinking seriously about quitting. They came to our peer support training class with their breath monitors, jars representing the amount and look of mucous in your lungs, fact sheets on the various toxins in tobacco aside from nicotine, et al. How could you not consider quitting? But what clenched it for me was my grandfather’s cough. My grandfather died about 3 decades ago from emphysema.

My grandfather had crystal blue eyes with bright green flecks (and yes, he was black). But, when there was a change of emotion, those eyes turned green. As the emphysema got worse, he had a cough that would go on for minutes and get out of control. And, in  the greenness of his eyes, I could see an honest fear as he shook uncontrollably. That should have made me stop smoking then. But, I was young, immortal and depressed.

 My grandfather’s cough clenched the deal for me, even from the grave; because 10 months ago, I had that cough.

It was a cough that you can’t control ending in a gag as if you would throw up. I felt as if I was coughing up my lungs and then gagging on them. My insides shook. I thought of my grandfather.

When I reported this cough to my primary care physician, very concerned, he said, “It’s a smoker’s cough.” As if to say: I’ve asked you to quit, you won’t, these are the consequences.

But there was another reason. Having over the past 5 years through proper medication and recovery tools regained a healthy sense of life, I want to do everything to preserve it. I am now hopeful for the future. So, not only did I quit smoking after 35 years, which my college friend of 32 years cannot believe, I go to the gym if only to cycle or walk for 30 minutes. I am now trying to change my eating habits, with the help of a wellness coach. It’s important to me to eat healthier, thereby losing weight, even though it’s hard. We all know how easy it was to blow up on psychotropic drugs.

However, even with all this in my head, I remember that I thoroughly enjoyed smoking cigarettes. The only thing that could really make me give it up, was my grandfather’s cough. So, I did.

###

the passing of a warrior

Recovery and wellness are always threatened by change. A sudden death in the family is the worst kind of change to have to experience. My uncle passed very suddenly. Everyone was in shock for days, including me. This poem is my tribute to him. He passed on Thursday, October 27, 2011. This is for my Uncle Luck.

the poem is a remix because the first poem I wrote on the night of his death at 11:00pm when I found out, was fueled with anger and shock. I still can't believe that I'll never see him again.

the passing of a warrior (remix)

and God said

well done my good and

faithful

servant

come home

and the servant knew

it was God’s Will

and the family of the servant knew

it was God’s Will

and so did the friends

as they assembled to celebrate

the life that was…

he was mama’s black sugar

                      mary’s luck

                                    our family’s joy

he

was the smile

that never ended

he was my  uncle

i always marveled at the union between my aunt and uncle

‘cause between the two

they had it covered

and they would tell you

in no uncertain terms

we got it covered

at the news of uncle sonny’s passing

i was angry

had to put on some coltrane

‘cause he was just that melodious and complex

a man who could pray the walls down

a deacon

not sanctimonious

not pious

a joker

but he fed his family

and everyone loved him

‘cause he was cool with it

a cat

unlike the jazz musicians you’ve ever  heard

and we can’t let the fact of his passing

steal the joy for us he will always be

i don’t

want to look

in the casket

‘cause

as far as I’m concerned

i will always see him standing

smiling

callin me jack-jack

with a joke to share/and some knowledge to impart…

study

to show thyself approved

a workman that needeth not be ashamed

rightly dividing the Word of Truth

rightly dividing the Word of Truth

rightly dividing the Word

‘cause

now we know

we don’t know the day or the time

but must always be ready

to answer the

Lord’s Call

-your niece, jacquese