Melancholy~ Part 1

Over the years I have used many “self-help” books to “cure” me from my mood disorders. I have stated before that I was in denial for quite some time that my problem was deeper than I truly let on. I am going to give you a little more in depth timeline of how my mental health changed over time.


As a preteen/teenager I was the type of kid who had a few friends… more acquaintances than anything else. I was average looking… meek… yet I could be the class clown at the flip of a switch. I wore mostly dark clothes though I wouldn’t say that I was “gothic” or “emo”, as they call it these days. Black was simply my favorite color and I never realized that it was a reflection of my inner thoughts until I was approached by one of my Jr. High School teachers named Mrs. King. A woman I will never forget. She pulled me aside one day and asked me if I was OK because she was concerned about me. I was wearing more black clothing than previously and I seemed sullen to her. She was the only person in my entire life that looked at me and truly could “see” me. Of course, I broke down and cried to her about my troubles at home, and she shared with me that she was married to an alcoholic and had been for more than 30yrs. She told me that she understood and that I was not alone…and she let me know I could speak to her at any time…even offering her telephone number to me. She could see in me what others couldn’t or would not acknowledge. At that time in my life, my Mom and Step-Dad drank a-lot and it was normal for intense arguments and screaming to take place on a whim. Classic rock music would be playing, often too loud for my sister and I to fall asleep but we would often pretend to be sleeping so we were not included in the arguments that always took place. They were not happy drunks to say the least. When on a happy buzz, everything was fun and great…but as the day and night wore on, the buzz became evil and toxic. And more often than not, we would be brought into the middle of the insanity where words were like daggers and apologies would often come the next day when sobriety, embarrassment, and shame came together…where eye contact didn’t take place because if you looked into my eyes or my sisters eyes, the intense pain, anger, and resentment was too much for the parental figures to bare.

Depression came to me when I realized that I was a separate entity from my parents. When I realized that my childhood was not what it should have been. When I realized that people had no right to invade my personal space, yet did (sexual abuse). When I realized that I was a teenager that had to take care of weekend alcoholic parents. When I realized that the turbulent lifestyle I was surrounded in was not healthy. When I was aware that my real Dad had no right to physically harm my Mom and our pets. When I realized that the drugs/alcohol/rock & roll childhood I lived was not normal. I could go on and on. Lets just sum it up and say my childhood was not pretty.

***Side note–-I must say though…and feel it truly in my heart… that my Mom did the absolute best she could with the skills she had at that time. She was a young Mom and gave birth to me just days after her 17th birthday. Happily, she is no longer the same person I described above. I learned so much in therapy these last 3 years, but I learned the most within the last 15 months. During DBT (Dialectical behavior therapy). I had an amazing therapist named Anne. She absolutely rocked… she was honest, to the point, and didn’t sugar coat anything. From this therapy, I learned to stop pointing fingers at the past and also learned that the majority of us don’t wake up and say, “I am going to make the worst mistake of my life today.” Decisions are made in the moment, some good…some bad… some the lesser of 2 evils, but most are made with good intentions. I also learned a great deal about self-medicating which at one point became a problem for myself and one I battle with always. I will get into that a bit more later.—***

As I grew older, into my teens, my depressive, suicidal ideation poetry was traded for writing songs. At this time in my life, I was dating the man I later married… so my “sad” poetry turned into love songs and true to life little stories…some upbeat but always a touch of the “blues”. My puppy/1st love distracted me from most of the melancholy… not all, but most. Depression already had its fangs in me and would not release me anytime soon. It was always in the background lingering…just waiting for the opportune moment to hit me like a Mac Truck. And that it did….

10 thoughts on “Melancholy~ Part 1”

  1. first let me say, hat brought me here was scanning over your gravatar when you liked my post on the idiot christians saying such horrible things about the tragedies happening in this country or the world. saying the aurora victims are in hell if they don’t believe in jesus. it was the quote. you quoted dexter morgan. it was what he said about having to pretend to be normal. didn’t we have to do that to get by but for me it didn’t work. i am a super fan of dexter. there is something about certain kinds of justice. he brings it on. now that i got that said. your post is unbelievably courageous. you lived and survived all of that verbal and physical and sexual violence. thank you mrs. king for being there for you. i relate so well to your words. different circumstances, similar abuses. i hated when my parents argued at night. why it made me feel this way-i use to think that they were going to kill each other. those sleepless nights when you were suppose to be asleep. did your parents really think you could get through what they were doing? i did have a mrs king-sort of-the guidance counselor in high school use to meet with me what seemed like once a week just to check in on me. but i never really told him anything about what was going on in my life outside of school. you and i both went into that state of depression back when we were teenagers. i started taking valium when i was a teenager. to settle my nerves. i had so much anxiety. sitting on such intense secrets. i was feeling hypomanic most of the afternoon and evening. my s/o came right and told me so. i didn’t feel i was acting all out of control but she felt i was. i was just excited. i was working on a story for my blog. the olympics are almost her. i’ve loved since i was little. love that they are every two years now, instead of having to wait four years and then get exhausted from too much of the olympics. i don’t know how you feel now. but i went from feeling high and something clicked in my head and i fell off the mountain. i don’t turn to anyone when i feel this way but for some reason dexter brought me to you. i got to read your oh so honest and courageous post. it was meant to be. i didn’t realize you went through all of that when you were growing up. i’d say welcome to our world and mean yours and mine. life really sucked back then, didn’t it. good that you have such a great therapist. i think the one i have now is actually getting through to me. i’ve grown so much since i started seeing her a little over 1 1/2 yrs ago. we get serious and then we joke around. she knows how to pull me around when i get off track. i do it on purpose but no knowingly. sometimes i just don’t want to talk about the subject on the floor. and i get so hyper when i am in session. talk about racing thought and talking fast. but i do get depressed when she can’t see it. i show her in my poetry. that poetry i don’t often share on my blog. it’s too depressing. even for me sometimes. thank you for liking my posts. i love seeing your silhouette. knowing you are somewhere out there is somehow reassuring to me. i hope you don’t mind that i’ve gone on like this. you mentioned dbt. i could never get into it. a former acquaintance/friend turned me off to it and i am afraid i haven’t gotten over what she had to say about it. i am sure glad to hearit works for you. my therapist runs a group on it. but i don’t feel comfortable doing groups. i like my twice a week sessions. that is kind of screwed up right now. for a while it will be twice a week every other week until a therapist recovers from some really heavy duty neck surgery. you know if i didn’t visit you tonight i don’t know how i would have made it through. tomorrow is a full day of appts. therapy, chiropractor & physical therapy. then home to snuggle with my parrot and kittens and cats. well, thank you for listening. if i can ever return the shoulder you know where to find me. jen xoxox ps. i hate this feeling but i am trying to figure a way to live with it.


    1. Learning to live with these feelings can be so hard at times… just know that you are not alone and that “each day may not be good, but there’s a little good in every day.” I try to remind myself of that often. I love Dexter myself… it is something about the justice and the control and diligent effort he must practice to remain in control of his instincts. I am quite use to pretending to be normal and I (most of the time) succeed at fooling people. It is the mask we wear at times, isn’t it?? I am glad that I read your post and that it prompted you to come to mine. I haven’t been writing this late (or often) as of late because of the move, but I felt compelled to share my life when depression kicked in. You and I have similar childhoods and I know that it is a difficult thing to recover from. Fortunately, that far back does not cause me much grief but then again… only recently have I been able to listen to classic rock because of the negative memories I had associated with it. Also, my Mom has turned into a wonderful woman who has become so very supportive of me. She didn’t always believe that I had mental health issues but for the last few years she has been right beside me with arms open wide to help however she can. I am very fortunate. My real Dad on the other hand died as a homeless man 8 years ago… I believe he was 47yrs old.
      I hope that your appointments go well tomorrow and that you have the strength to get through them. Then go home and relax… do something soothing. You indeed deserve it my friend.
      Anytime you want to vent, email me… I am here. ♥


  2. ((((Muse)))) … you know I can relate to parts of this; as a survivor of childhood sexual, emotional and physical abuse from multiple ‘fathers’, I’ve been through more therapists than I can count, and have been on various antidepressants since I was 17. While they usually prevent me from carrying out suicidal tendencies, they don’t always keep away the ‘thoughts’ – although the suicidal episodes have mostly subsided in the past several years, I still need to be aware that they are there, and to take steps to thwart them when they rear up again, before they complete that downward spiral. I’m doing really well with this now; I haven’t had an ‘episode’ in almost a year. I know everyone’s life is unique, but pain and suffering is still pain and suffering … you are not alone, and never will be. I admire your courage and determination to stay as well as possible so much – you’re doing that beautifully! Sending you loving, healing energies always, my friend. ~ Love, Julie xoxox


    1. (((Julie))), I am sad to hear that you suffered these cruelties as well. It is just heart breaking to me that more happens than we realize when it comes to child abuse.
      I am glad you have a keen eye on your suicidal tendencies. That is very important even when you haven’t had an episode in a while. The suicidal thoughts can often spring up rather quickly and sometimes out of nowhere. I know this too well myself.
      Much love to you my friend… you are always positive and uplifting to me. You have grace, beauty, and strength. ♥


  3. It hurt a lot to read this one; so much emotion brought back to the surface it made me a little queasy. I… well, really I shouldn’t be able to understand the pain, but I do. I’m so old- well, no. That’s not true. But posts like this make me FEEL old. Ancient almost, like I can look at the experiences writ down here and relate somehow, even though in this life I’ve no experience with abuse. One day maybe I’ll relate a life or two of my own to show that it’s not just bluster, that I really have felt these things before…. but….

    Maybe I don’t need to. As vivid as those memories burn in my mind- especially now after hearing about your terrible childhood, Muse- I think it doesn’t matter whether or not they get out directly. I think parts of them climb out from within my heart in everything I write. Writing is a soul release, it’s a way to pour out memory and thought and emotion. Even if you hadn’t said similar things before I think I’d be able to feel that from your work.

    To me, I think of bipolar disorder as- an unresolved memory. Something so terrible that it drags you down every time it appears. Maybe it’s blocked, maybe you can’t reach out and touch it to help it heal the way you do with other memories. But once it releases you- and every once in a while it does- it gives you this feeling of intense relief and happiness and you build yourself back up again, climbing a paper tower- and that memory burns it down to get at you. The flames slowly creep up the sides of the tower and you’re so busy building and climbing that you don’t notice them until it’s too late. Down you tumble as the base of the tower falls. Your depression drags you down again for a time. And since you can’t touch the memory, you can never fully heal from it. You can’t pull away and you can’t push it down. It stays there. Burning at you. Tearing you up inside. Even as the blissfully ignorant, innocent part of you tries its very best to forget its existence. To the point of being damaging. Senseless happiness and an eternally unresolved ache.

    I ‘unno. That’s just what I feel; I have no idea how accurate it is. As far as I know I’ve never been diagnosed with bipolar disorder. It sounds accurate to the rollercoaster ride that is my life, and I can certainly relate to the up-down-up-down feel.

    I guess I’m relapsing a bit. The breakup was pretty- IS pretty hard on me. But it helps to read, and I love reading about your experiences, so don’t let that daunt you one bit. I’m always ready to learn more about people. Especially people I like~ <3

    So thank you for sharing this, Bipolarmuse. Don't ever- EVER- let it drag you down completely.



    1. Eris, I love your description of what Bipolar seems like to you. It is descriptive, poetic, and feels very real to me. I do sometime wander into ignorant bliss of thinking I have this thing beat all the while the flames are inching their way up my paper ladder. I would love to do a post on this… or if you wrote a poem I would love to have you as a “guest” poet because your words are so touching, real, and eloquent all at once.
      Did you see my post about personality/mood disorder tests?? It is here:
      But it is just an online tool where you answer questions and it will give you results… not to replace a doctor but to give you an idea, to use as a tool. Especially if you have had a roller coaster of a life. For a long time, mine felt like an out of control roller-coaster that I could never get off of. Horrible. And sometimes it can still feel that way. I feel pretty good right now but I am sure the fire is just inching its way to me. ♥


      1. Oh, you are absolutely welcome to quote me or put my comment up as a guest post, or I guess wait until I get a poem you like that relates and snap that up there?? I dunno how this works~ <3 My laptop adaptor isn't here yet. I took the questionnaire for personality disorders…. (I'm not sure how one's sex relates to anything and therefore answered the exact opposite of what I am physically, as I am often wont to do) And I scored high in the dependent area (which doesn't surprise me at all) and moderate in two other areas which were probably tangently related. And I'm a compulsive liar about certain things that are harmless- small things that don't matter- but I'm really terrible at it so it turns into more of a joke. The things that DO matter I'm notoriously GOOD at lying about, so who could know??

        Kidding aside, it was interesting to see the types of questions they asked. I guess the initial one 'ARE YOU MALE OR FEMALE' wasn't meant for people like me. Which I find absolutely hilarious, because gender fluidity can cause you to have killer ups and downs- at least as far as I know for ME. I'm sure there are some fluid gender'd people out there who are happily married to their fluid gendered partners and are getting along just fine with no psychological problems, which from my perspective is a psychological problem in and of itself.

        No one is perfect. NO ONE. We all have flaws and issues we gotta work through, otherwise we wouldn't be Down Here, we'd be Up There. (At least, that's how it works from some religions' perspectives. Personally I think we just keep on coming back, and I've got my own good reasons to believe that.)

        Anyway. Went off there for a second. Gimme a sec to get my thoughts in order….

        I'm glad my description was accurate! I always have to double-check to make sure that I'm feeling it right. I'm not entirely sure whether or not I have bipolar disorder (even after answering that quiz honestly), but I do know what it feels like. How does that make sense? I don't know. It's an empath thing, I guess. Maybe I had it in a different life. Maybe I felt it from you. I don't think it really makes a difference.

        Yeah, it probably doesn't make a difference. I've got some poetry in me waiting to burst out. I guess I'll get to writing that. <3 And check out your Melancholy Part 2 post while I'm at it.



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