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