Mental illness is not a sin. What my mind does with it is.
There is darkness in information overload, constant debating turned confrontation and reading the barrage of opinions and rude remarks. We listen, unpack, then regurgitate it back to the masses. All the while, filling our thoughts with worldly nonsense in a brain not capable of holding more. Processing is a function that tires you out. If you don't prioritize your ideas, you will lose ground in mental clarity and stability.
Depression is relentless. We struggle to overcome, and it fights to defeat us. The pursuit of our mind is that of a hunter and it's prey.
I am filled day and night with a fear I cannot shake. People die every day from one last high. We saw that in December. Living in this fear is trying.
A poem of strength and honor.
When I am bound by bipolar, I fear movement. I cast this unimaginable shadow over myself that darkens with each passing day. I proved this earlier this month when I looked out my office window and noticed the sun.
Why do I write and speak on the topic of mental health, namely bipolar disorder?
The chains that held my heart The gallows that cut my mind The poison that ran my veins Darkness rendered blind
In January 2002, I accepted I have a chronic mental illness, and a journey began. I experienced a myriad of emotions at the time, such as anger, disappointment, fear, and a mild case of feeling sorry for myself!