Healing ♥
**Healing is you waking up to the fullness of who you really are as a divine energetic being in this amazing world. Healing is YOU LOVING YOU.
STAY WAKE. BE WHOLE. LOVE.
Dr. Julie on your Beautiful Mindful Life**
A couple years ago I would feed myself positive affirmations and inspiring quotes.
This is one that I shared on my facebook and wanted to share with you.
This is wonderful advice to live by. She is speaking of mindfulness and being “present”. Not only that, but to also forgive yourself so that you will be able to love who you are.
We are magnificent beings, even in our imperfections. We all seek being “whole” but you must really be awakened and realize the depth of your own thoughts.
Negativity brings more negativity, and positivity brings more positivity.
I know sometimes that life can get hard and be a very dark place… I certainly understand this first hand.
But you should know that I practiced using positivity when at my worst, and though at the time it seemed futile, it did indeed work because if it hadn’t, I wouldn’t be here.
© bipolarmuse 2012
Bipolarmuse♥ Wait It Out
** This is a little excerpt of my life that took place in the year 2002. The story is true to my memory and feelings in that moment. Thank you for taking the time to read… it truly means a-lot to me. **
Wait It Out
- Hello? -
~ J, it’s bipolarmuse. ~ I am whispering, hiding in the back bedroom, as far from B as possible.
The tears just flow from my eyes. It is hard to breathe, hard to speak. My eyeballs feel bruised from all the crying. My head is pounding.
~ B is trying to kill himself by overdosing. He says he just wants to “go to sleep” but he is taking so many muscle relaxers and pain pills together. I don’t know what to do. This is what he wants.” ~
- I don’t know what to tell you. I wish I knew what to do or say. Did you take the medication from him? -
~ Yes, I hid it. Right now he is passed out and every time I try to wake him, he won’t wake up, but he is still breathing ~
I hid the medication in a kitchen cabinet… I wanted to flush them, but at this point, I am not sure of what B is capable of… I don’t know if he would get violent… when and if he wakes up.
~ I want to save him so bad and I can’t do it. He will just keep trying until he succeeds. ~
My voice is quivering… I am wiping away snot with my shirt… terrified to get up and go to the bathroom for tissue. Afraid of what I may see.
- Bipolarmuse, he has been doing this since he was 13. None of us can save him. I know you love him but saving him is not your responsibility. -
She is always logical and wise. And she is right.
- Do you know what you are going to do? -
In a hushed voice… ~ No. ~
- I love you. Call me back… ok? -
~ I love you too. ~
I went into the bedroom where B is passed out on our bed and I lay next to him just listening to him breathe. I feel him move and he comes to.
- BABY GIRL. – His voice is raspy and his speech is not right… slurred… crackly.
- Baby girl, hand me the pills in the night stand. -
I get up out of the bed and went into the living room, I gave him no response.
He is searching the nightstand, pulling the drawer completely out… I can imagine he is tearing the room apart.
Finally he makes his way into the living room.
His movements are bizarre… He can’t move fluidly at all. His motion is very “jerky” and he is having a hard time walking.
- WHERE THE FUCK ARE MY PILLS?? -
I am scared to death. He looks beyond angry… he is ferocious and frightening. His wild look is magnified by his high.
~ I hid them B, you can’t have anymore. You are going to kill yourself. ~
- I just want to sleep baby girl. Fuck man. Just give them to me or I will tear this house apart looking for them. -
He goes into the kitchen and starts opening every cabinet drawer and every cabinet door. He is going to find them.
Certainly he does.
He walks passed me with both bottles in his hand. The other hand is helping him walk along the walls to go back to the bedroom.
I wait a few moments and then join him to go to sleep. I don’t sleep at all. Instead, I stay awake listening to his breathing pattern.
Once morning finally comes, I call my work and tell them I can’t come in today. I must watch him or he will surely die.
I start doing laundry to occupy my mind, but I check on B every few minutes. I simply do not know what to do. He has done this so many times before.
I am walking a load of laundry passed our bedroom door and notice something terrifying.
B is shaking… no, more like convulsing. His breathing is shallow. I cannot see the Iris of his eyes, they are pure black pupil. I run to grab a flashlight and shine it into his eyes… they are COMPLETELY unresponsive… they stay entirely black.
I can’t handle it anymore. I can’t just sit by and allow this man to kill himself. He can try again another time.
Grabbing the phone, I dial 911 and explain what is going on. Paramedics are on their way… I am told to get the medication out for them to determine how much he has taken in the last 24 hours.
They rush him to the hospital and I follow behind in my car.
When I get there, I am greeted by a Doctor and a Psychiatrist. They are asking me if he was trying to kill himself.
~ He is always trying to kill himself, but he just kept telling me he wanted to sleep. ~
A half hour passes and they call for me so I can go sit at B’s bed side. He is on a breathing machine… ya know, for people who cannot breathe on their own.
I break down crying once again because I know it must be a bad sign.
The Doctor approaches me and informs me that B has done permanent damage to his heart. What does this mean to me?? Did he have a heart attack??
The Doctor also said that they have him in a drug induced coma and at this point all that can be done is to wait it out. He cannot tell me whether he will be ok, or even wake up for that matter.
I call his family to let them know…
This isn’t a new routine for them. Nobody comes to see him…
It just me and B.
© bipolarmuse 2012
Bipolarmuse♥ For Pills
** This is a little excerpt of my life that took place in the year 2002. The story is true to my memory and feelings in that moment. Thank you for taking the time to read… it truly means a-lot to me. **
For Pills
What the FUCK is going on??
I come home and find blood drops that lead into the kitchen.
Of course, I figure if B got a hold of a gun, there would not be a pathway created in blood. More like a pool and a body.
I rush into the kitchen, where the blood ends.
There’s blood on the carpet…all over the kitchen counter tops… running up and down B’s arm.
He is standing over the sink with his hand under the faucet. Maybe to clean it out??
Fucking GREAT. It’s the hand that he had surgery on to repair shattered bones and his knuckle. All that is left for two metacarpals is metal…and bolts.
~ What the fuck happened B? ~
My voice is on the edge of hysteria.
B gives me a wary glance, yet wearing that devilish grin.
- I was doing lawn work and one of the yard tools used for cutting limbs somehow got away from me and hit my bad hand. -
Blood is everywhere and I can’t get the blood to stop… it is just flowing out.
I grab one of his white tee shirts and wrap his hand tightly.
We are going to the emergency room.
After much urging because his blood was making a mess of the floor, they decided to see him quickly.
They stitch him back up but the metal was “visable” when I saw it in the kitchen. Did they remove it?? Keep it in place?
I don’t get it.
They prescribe him pain killers and muscle relaxers. YAY! Feed the fucking addict.
We get home and I take a good look at this “garden tool” that supposedly did the damage. This piece of equipment is so big and bulky, it would have taken off half his hand, if not the entire thing. It was not a jagged cut but more of a straight line following his scar.
Now I am doubting B’s story.
He had just moved to a new city to be with me and his normal pill suppliers were no longer around.
I confronted him of course…
~ B, did you cut your hand on purpose for pain pills? ~
The cackle. Of course the cackle… and the wild eyes too.
- No baby girl. Why would I do that to myself? I am already crippled in this hand. -
He is very literal. His right hand cannot make a fist or grasp a drinking glass as it is… why would he create more damage?
I didn’t trust it… or him.
I go searching through the tool box for a box cutter to open some boxes that still needed to be unpacked.
What do I find??
Take a WILD guess.
Inside the tool box were razor blades… one stained with blood.
He not only re-opened the old wound, revealing surgical steel underneath…but…
He did it for pills.
© bipolarmuse 2012
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Wonder Woman
I can be your Wonder Woman.
Watch me spin nothingness…
and place the world into your hands.
I can give a glimpse of eternity.
Never whisper a promise…
Unless it can come to be.
I can be your Wonder Woman…
watch me light the corners of night…
Give you all, except who I am.
Take my hand and lets fly high…
I can take you to magnificent places…
Make every cell within come to life.
© bipolarmuse 2012
Creativity Flows
Creativity flows from the veins of madness and bleeds… drop by drop.~ Bipolarmuse ♥
Bleeding on paper as Hemingway said.
Writing is my creative outlet, my inspiration, my voice, my journey, my healing, my therapy.
It is interesting as I have always had a fondness for the arts. In junior high and high school, I played the viola in orchestra. I also played the alto sax for a year, taught myself basic piano, and taught myself to play the clarinet.
I know I have beaten this like a dead horse, but I began writing poetry at 11, and then songs in my teens. I would literally write the notes out and play them with my keyboard. I also love to sing and at one time, I was bearable to listen to. 
Now I just want to learn how to paint. One day. 
In the meantime, I will stick to words. They are my life in poetry and prose.
♥
Bipolarmuse♥ Left With Wondering Why
** This is a little excerpt of my life that took place in the year 2002. The story is true to my memory and feelings in that moment. Thank you for taking the time to read… it truly means a-lot to me. **
Left With Wondering Why
OH MY GOD.
I can’t breathe. All of the oxygen is being pulled from my lungs…
the tears hold it for ransom.
I can’t stop crying…all I can manage is to lay on the floor curled up into a ball.
Every muscle aching, on fire. Wanting to jump out of my skin.
I’m dying.
~~~
I got the dreaded call.
As always, my phone was off while I slept and I awoke to a new message.
- Hi Bipalarmuse, it’s J…call me as soon as you get this. I love you. -
This is it. This is the dreaded call. But what if it’s not. What if B is just putting her up to calling me to get me to talk to him.
I am hoping and praying as I dial her number.
- Hello? -
~ Is everything ok? ~
Hysteria is setting in.
- Bipolarmuse, B killed himself last night. He is gone. -
~ Oh no,no, NO. Did he overdose?? ~
- No, he shot himself. -
Just as he had said he would do. I was hoping to hear “overdose” because that COULD be accidental. What does it fuckin matter though, either way he is gone. GONE.
~ Oh my God J… he did it. ~
My voice is hard to control. Waves of physical sickness hit me with tremendous force. I am starting to die.
- Call his cousin and talk to him, he can go over all the details… and he could use a call from you. -
I can’t breathe.
I can’t see.
Salty tears are burning mascara into my eyes.
The details? Oh yes… the details of what led up to his death. That’s what she means. I can’t shake the shock that’s setting in.
~ Oh my God J… I was going to call him today. I told my friends last night at a birthday dinner that I was going to break down and call him today. I should have called last night! Are you sure it is him? 100% sure? ~
- He didn’t have his phone on him… there was nothing anyone could do… nobody could reach him. -
I was in shock. Maybe it was someone else… Maybe?
I couldn’t stop saying “no”. It just repeated over and over in my head… out of my mouth.
She gave me some of the details.
He ransacked his Moms purse for money… the locks were changed on the doors… he bought and installed a radio and/or speakers in a friends car… this friend kept a gun in the glove box… he stole the gun from this friend… later that night he was on some sort of drugs and just up and left from a friends house… the friends went out searching for him… they found him pulled over on the side of the road… they were to late… he was already gone… he had shot himself with a 9mm… my picture was on the steering wheel.
- Bipolarmuse, he loved you so much. He had a picture of you with him, it was on the steering wheel. He probably wanted you to know he loved you and wanted you to be the last person he saw. It was there out of love. I know that, otherwise I wouldn’t have told you. -
I am ill… my picture was there? Was it love, was it anger? What was the true meaning of my photo being there?? Why not a note explaining why?? Why??
I am forever left with wondering why?
© bipolarmuse 2012
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HILARIOUS… to me anyhow.
So, I had to share this with you. It is absolutely hilarious and I don’t think that it’s just me… I am sure you get my drift.
This was drawn today by a 5yr old boy.
Lets examine this, shall we??
I see a penguin… and …. something.
I can’t stop laughing.
I remember vividly when my kids thought it was hilarious to add breasts and genitalia to their stick figures… so he isn’t that far behind with such drawings. At least I think.
Bahahah… so funny.
What would you “name” this picture… after you share your ideas, I will share mine. LOL
So many Endings
With so many endings,
I create new beginnings.
I gave my best, I gave my all.
I fear it was not enough at all.
Your apathetic look hurts,
Like kerosene it burns.
I lost forever for an eternity,
I traded for that devil in me.
In your fortitude of saintliness,
I hope you reach bliss.
So many endings,
So many beginnings.
I hope you reach your forever,
While I bask in mine right here.
© bipolarmuse 2012
Edgar Alllan Poe Quote
“That which you mistake for madness is but an overacuteness of the senses.”
― Edgar Allan Poe
He nailed it. I love how, many moons ago, writers described cycles of melancholy as “madness”. It was common knowledge that many artists were touched with a sadness, an ‘overacuteness of the senses’. Most shared this common experience with fluctuating moods.
I definitely have ‘overacuteness of senses’.
I can’t begin to explain what it feels like to be in my body.
Touches feel like “scraping” or leave traces of extreme cold or heat. My head “sparks” as if I can feel every neuron firing off.
Sometimes it feels as though my entire body is tingling…an intoxicating feeling.
I have noticed that these extremes are felt during normal stages and in mania/hypo-mania/rapid cycling.
My moods are definitely reflected in my writings. The more depressed I am, the darker the poems become… as I lift up out of depression, my writings become more positive and infiltrated with hope and passion. Either way, I have learned that I am able to write even during the better of times… though it is more difficult. It is often that while climbing out of depression, I am most creative and motivated to be so.
Indeed, I would keep the “madness” in order to keep doing what I do. It’s worth it.
© bipolarmuse 2012
Bipolarmuse’s Blog is Reaching Further Than Realized
I got a most wonderful email from Charlie whose blog is Sacred Meetings In Stillness. What he said in it blew my mind… for one because he was very uplifting in his message and because of something that is simply amazing…. here is an excerpt.
***
Bipolarmuse♥ GAME ON
** This is a little excerpt of my life that took place in the year 2002. The story is true to my memory and feelings in that moment. Thank you for taking the time to read… it truly means a-lot to me. **
GAME ON
He has been cheating on me. I knew it… had the gut instinct for a while. Noticed little signs…
Can’t get a hold of him at times, how he heads straight for the shower when he gets home from somewhere, how he asks me out of the blue if I am cheating on HIM. How his phone rings all hours of the night.
Classic.
For some reason I am eerily calm. I don’t fly off into a rampage, I don’t hit him or spit at him, I don’t scream and curse and throw shit.
I am calm.
We go to the pool with his cousin and his cousin’s Fiance. As we are wading in the water, I bring up his scandalous ways and nobody says a word.
I hear the cackle.
I look over at B and he has a very nervous look on his face but he simply cannot resist the fucking cackle.
At least it was a nervous one.
I simply smile and just stare at him.
Everyone is dead silent, and I begin to laugh… all the while my gaze SEARS into B.
I stop laughing but I have a devilish smile on my face.
B finally decides to break the silence.
- I think she is plotting to kill me. -
I laugh again because yes, thoughts of killing him certainly were in my head.
- I am sorry baby girl. I will never cheat on you again. I love you. That happened at the very beginning of our relationship anyhow. -
OOOoooohhhhh, that makes it alright in his fucked up head.
Besides, I don’t exactly believe him that it was only in the beginning. Maybe. But I don’t know.
~ I wonder how many pounds of pressure would be needed to crush your esophagus. ~
Everyone just stares at me.
Of course I am not wanting to kill him, but I certainly want him to sleep with one eye open.
That’s right B… GAME ON.
Sleep tight.
© bipolarmuse 2012
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Bipolarmuse ♥ I Waited
** This is a little excerpt of my life that took place in the year 2002. The story is true to my memory and feelings in that moment. Thank you for taking the time to read… it truly means a-lot to me. **
It is suffice to say
You are on my mind each day.
Every song that is played
Spins you in my mind like a screenplay.
I waited
B is in his home town now and I expect that to officially be the end. He doesn’t have a phone number or address for me, nor me for him.
Yet he calls my work periodically leaving his number.
Just knowing that he is calling for me has me frantic and sick. I can’t do it anymore.
I can’t save him… my love will never be enough. This has been an excruciating fact to come to.
I tell the receptionist to just throw away his number and not to allow me to have it.
He is my drug, I may fiend for him and take him back.
However, I ask for the number after one of his calls. She freely gives it after a-lot of pleading.
I call from the work pay phone so he wouldn’t have my cell number.
The phone is ringing…
- Hi babygirl! I miss you so much. -
~ Hi B. How are you. ~
-When you coming back to me baby? -
~ I don’t know if that is going to happen. ~
- Promise me we will be back together again. -
~ I can’t promise that B, but I will try. ~ I lied.
- I love you baby girl. -
~ Me too B. ~
I hang up the phone.
I now have his number and it took all the strength I had to throw it away.
This man is delusional and I just fed into his delusions.
~~~~~
I haven’t heard from him for about a month…
Yet today… he has called again… with a message for me with significant meaning.
- Tell Bipolarmuse to keep the rest of my things. -
I almost threw up right then and there when I heard this.
It was the end.
I didn’t have hardly any of his belongings because he sold them all before he left.
This was a message… not about belongings… but about his plan.
I knew then and there that his death was imminent.
All I could do was wait for the other shoe to drop.
So I waited.
© bipolarmuse 2012
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Keep your Spark
You’re only given a little spark of madness. You mustn’t lose it. ~ Robin Williams
Ahhhh… the spark of madness. All you need is a spark, not a blazing fire.
We all have this spark inside, for some it is stronger. It needs to be cultivated and used in a productive way.
Let your light inside, not only inspire you, but use it to inspire others. Be that beacon in the dark.
Who would I be without this malfunctioning mind?
I don’t want to find out.
I am liking me.
Stay strong my friends and keep your spark… If you feel you have lost it, you haven’t, it just needs rekindled.
♥
© bipolarmuse 2012
Bipolarmuse ♥ Love Me In Perfection
** This is a little excerpt of my life that took place in the year 2002. The story is true to my memory and feelings in that moment. Thank you for taking the time to read… it truly means a-lot to me. **
Love Me In Perfection
These are the moments that I love. Makes all the frustration, anxiety, mental pain, and sadness worth being endured.
It’s quiet… just muffled sounds dance in my ears.
The only light being from the glow of the TV.
Sipping hot tea.
Sitting on the loveseat with B… laying back, just a little… resting against the arm of the sofa.
Legs entwined.
One hand molded perfectly to his… my body melting into him.
The heat of his gaze on my face…
His sweet lips on my face.
- You are my hero, my everything baby girl. -
I don’t speak… I just kiss his lips.
Love oozes from every pore of me. I am alive…. on fire with passion for this man.
I want to save him… from himself.
Why is he so loving and affectionate tonight?
Does it matter?
I hold his gaze…
Indeed, pin-dot pupils in a dark room.
It’s ok B, for tonight.
Be high and love me in perfection.
© bipolarmuse 2012
The Beauty Of Bipolar Disorder
What’s fantastic about being Bipolar 1 ?! Actually, there is a-lot to be grateful for…
I tend to operate in excessive emotions and tend to be very passionate.
I have the gift of words and have been a poet as long as I can remember.
I have a keen understanding of “what goes up must come down… then back up again” and can prepare for each.
When I have great ideas, they are indeed great.
When in a perfect state of Mania, I experience the type of euphoric high that people pay for.
I am perpetually in lust.
Being Bipolar, while at its worst is very bad, but when it is at its best, there is nothing like it. Perhaps that is why substance abuse is a co-morbid disorder… we are constantly in search of that perfect mania euphoria. Just maybe.
I certainly get my lows and impulsivity from this disorder… yet I also get my extreme passion and emotion. I can feel every particle of my being to the best of extremes and to the worst.
Embrace the beauty!!
Top 10 Terrific Things About Bipolar
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Bipolarmuse ♥ Here is the Ego- continued
** This is a little excerpt of my life that took place in the year 2002. The story is true to my memory and feelings in that moment. Thank you for taking the time to read… it truly means a-lot to me. **
Here is the Ego- continued
B slowly pulls into the drive.
The police tell him to slowly exit the vehicle, and he did.
Where was the gun?? I couldn’t see it in either of his hands…
B certainly is not an idiot as he is now proving. He knew the current law about guns and made sure it was sitting in plain fucking sight within the car.
Busy talking to the police, I call his parents to tell them I am outside. His Dad comes out through the garage and ushers me into the house.
I was in shock at how everything was going down. I felt sick, anxious, scared to death of what was going to happen. A rotten taste in my mouth, vile acids sneaking their way to my throat.
B’s Dad keeps going in and out of the house. I believe he is mediating and prying for information… though I couldn’t be sure of anything. Everyone wanted to know why B was taking a gun to his parents house.
Certainly he had a plan.
“To scare everyone” was the so-called plan. “He would never hurt anyone other than himself”…
Well, I can say I am gleefully happy to have ruined his fun (muahaha)… now he gets to have the police involved. Maybe that will be enough to scare the shit out of him and prevent him from acting up further.
I could only get so lucky!
I finally went outside once things were calm and I found B completely at ease with the cops, discussing a career as an officer of the law, just shootin’ the shit, feeling some sort of camaraderie with them because he was in Loss Prevention.
What the fuck ever.
Everyone was now at ease and giving B a pep-talk. “You have a great life with a beautiful girl”, “Maybe you both should move to Vegas to be near Bipolarmuses kids”, “You can accomplish anything”, “You have everything going for you”…. blah, blah, blah.
I was involved with the pep-talk bullshit…but I was experiencing the whole situation almost in an out of body experience. I wasn’t ‘present’ at all, but observing from a distance, though I was clearly in the center of the mayhem.
The gun… where did the gun go??
Somehow, B had purchased the gun for a few hundred dollars. How? I can only imagine all the creative ways that B comes up with when it comes to getting money. But nope!
Where did he get the money for the gun… from our joint fucking account to be sure.
Now, I am gonna kill him.
The gun needed to go… pronto… in a jiffy…snap snap… NOW.
I then realize why we were there so long. Yet, baffled. Why didn’t the police take him down to mental health and have him held because he was obviously a danger to himself and to others. Why weren’t his parents taking that action? Could I??
Since the gun was legally owned and B had every right to exercise his right to bare arms. It couldn’t be taken by the police, and surely he knows not to trust me with it.
I made plans to leave, move out, be done with this crazy man. I knew it was futile though… he was my smack.
So instead, I went home with B.
When we got home, he hands me a check.
The cost of peace of mind for today… $1000.00
His Dad now owns the gun.
© bipolarmuse 2012
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Random Possibilities
I like to live in a world of random possibilities.~ Bipolarmuse ♥
I am a thinker… as I think many of us with mood disorders are. Nothing is ever as simple as it should be. I have to dive into my mind and find hidden truths. Some people are happy with what is…and while I, at times, enjoy that… I also enjoy what could be and is yet to be revealed.
Tomorrow is surely to be different from today. Of course it has the similarities of yesterday, but it is profoundly different.
I have choices…each to lead to a different ending… only for the ending to be changed again. I like that.
I like to wander in this world without limits… of possibilities… random possibilities.
That is where I live.
© bipolarmuse 2012
Bipolarmuse♥ Here is the Ego
** This is a little excerpt of my life that took place in the year 2002. The story is true to my memory and feelings in that moment. Thank you for taking the time to read… it truly means a-lot to me. **
Here Is The Ego
- Come with me to my parents house. -
B is frantic. His forehead is beaded with sweat and his eyes are wild and darting around like a mad man. He is highly agitated. He is angry. He is vengeful.
~ I don’t see how going over there is going to help anything. I think chilling out is the best option right now and then go and talk to them. ~
I am trying desperately to keep him at the house. Nothing feels right. His anger and anxiety have reached a new high and I am very frightened over what is going to happen next.
Apparently he is upset at his parents over something, I think over a vehicle. You see, B has always had nice vehicles paid for by his parents, and while he is currently driving a company SUV, he is not happy about it. But hey, privileges are removed when you act up…and B was great at acting up.
- Either fucking come with me and be by my side as my fiance who supports me… or… -
B is shaking his head in disgust and disbelief that I am refusing to go along.
How do I extinguish this before escalates into something tragic?
I swear I am at my breaking point with this man.
B, his cackle so devious, his eyes WILD, his lips dangerously curved into a wicked smile… he pulls out a nice large gun.
Where the fuck did that come from?! I have taken away guns. We agreed he is never to own one, so where did this come from??
-You won’t go and support me… do you not care and see how unfair this all is? -
~ B, give me the gun. This is no time to have a gun out. ~
- What are you afraid of baby girl? -
He cackles, eyes set on fire and uncontrollably wild.
- Are you afraid I will do this?! -
Everything is in slow motion at this point.
He slowly takes the hand the gun is in and lifts it up toward his face.
I inhale to scream in protest but can’t find words… nor the air needed to fill my lungs.
Everything is so slow. It feels like it is taking an eternity to place that gun in his mouth.
Yet, time stands still for nobody, and he manages to place the gun in the very place he will certainly one day use to end his life.
I stand there… frozen. Finally I find my voice…
~Baby, please don’t do this… it isn’t worth it! I need you so much. What would I be without you?!~
In excruciatingly slow motion, he removes his mouth from around the barrel and brings the gun down to his side.
I am in the midst of chaos… insanity.
- Either you come with me or not, but I am going and I would really like your support. -
B heads out of the apartment and right down to the car.
I race out …chasing him.
I open the passenger door of the car…standing with one leg in and the rest of me out. B is standing just outside the driver door.
I take note of the little kids playing so close by, and the big shiny gun in B’s hand.
~ I will go with you… but let me take the gun upstairs to our apartment. ~
- FUCK THAT. I want them to see what they do to me. -
~ B, please give me the gun and we can go talk to them, or lets stay here. What do you need to prove with that gun anyways! ~
- I love you baby girl. Are you afraid I will do this in front of everyone… -
B calmly places the barrel of the gun in his mouth again, this time he maintains eye contact with me.
I shut my eyes. Seared into my mind is that last image… the gun in his mouth.
I squeeze my eyes shut and wait for the “bang”… all the while worried about those poor kids that are now watching… looking terrified.
I open my eyes and scream at the kids to go home.
~ Go home now! ~
Just as I did, B removed the gun from his mouth and jumped into the car.
- Come with me and support me, or don’t. -
I stepped out of the car and chose not to go.
The tires squealed as he maniacally pulled out.
Fuck! Fuck! FUCK!
I must call his parents.
I dial their phone number immediately…
- Hello? -
~ You need to lock up the house or leave! B is on the way over, he is acting crazy…and he is bringing a gun. I am sorry, I tried stopping him. ~
- Thank you for calling to let us know, I am going to call the police. -
I call B over and over but he will not answer his phone. I figured the police would be a deterrent.
I jump in my car and head to his parents house. I beat him there and notice that his parents have completely locked down the house. The police are there.
I watch B’s car slowly pull up.
He gets out and is comically irritated. Donning that devilish smirk, wild eyes, cackling. Here is the ego.
© bipolarmuse 2012
Related articles
- Bipolarmuse ♥ – The Gun (bipolarmuse.com)
- Bipolarmuse ♥ He is “OUT” (bipolarmuse.com)
- Bipolarmuse ♥ Not On My Watch (bipolarmuse.com)
- Bipolarmuse ♥ My Poison (bipolarmuse.com)
- Bipolarmuse ♥ Barrel in your mouth. (bipolarmuse.com)
- Bipolarmuse ♥ The Ex… Pregnant? (bipolarmuse.com)
- Bipolarmuse ♥ Not With A 10 Foot Pole (bipolarmuse.com)
- Bipolarmuse ♥ Sweet Smile (bipolarmuse.com)
- Bipolarmuse ♥ Playboy (bipolarmuse.com)
My Inspiration
My inspiration for writing I held You For a Moment.
~~~
I was looking through old pictures, trying to find some pics of B, and I sadly reminded myself that I have only a few. None of us together. Where they have all gone is beyond me. I didn’t get any pictures back from his collage at his funeral but I am certain I still had “some”.
They are completely gone.
The pictures I did find stopped me in my tracks.
I found his viewing/funeral pictures.
Yes, I took pictures of him in his casket.
I can remember thinking (at his viewing) that he looked so good. You have to remember that I believe I saw B at his worst when alive… so that doesn’t help with my observation.
I did hold him a moment… in a picture… in my hands.
I stared at the picture and realized just how horrible he did look… how different than what I remember. I thought he was so beautiful at his services.
And now…
Well now, I just want some real pictures.
♥
I Held You For A Moment
I held you for a moment,
Breath paused, hands trembling.
You feel so nice in my hands.
I am in awe, fascinated.
Your skin, I want to touch badly
I whisper for just “The chance”.
I held you for a moment
Time ended, moments stopped.
I feel the depths of your dreams.
You pull at me, pull me under…
Your eyes held me, entranced.
As I lay you in the dusty box of broken dreams.
© bipolarmuse 2012
Bipolarmuse ♥ Sweet Smile
** This is a little excerpt of my life that took place in the year 2000. The story is true to my memory and feelings in that moment. Thank you for taking the time to read… it truly means a-lot to me. **
Sweet smile
It is serious this time. No going back.
I packed B and the items he can fit on an airplane into the car and we drive to the airport. He is talking, mumbling something, but all I can hear is the muffled sounds in my head. Maybe my heartbeat? Each breath taken in?
The goodbye was short with a kiss on the cheek. I didn’t even bother with watching him walk away, I just pulled away from the curb at the drop off area and headed towards work.
That was it, it was over.
He had nothing to come back for because he sold all of his belongings for pills and getting his hands on a gun. Thank God he didn’t have enough money for the gun… but the pills, yes he got his fix.
~~~
The end was torture. He spent every single day, all day, in bed crying.
My kids thought he was “sick” all the time and I just agreed.
Yes, he was sick.
Did I mention I was glad he couldn’t get a gun? Without the gun, I wasn’t so afraid of his final exit. I had come to know him enough that I believed he would certainly be leaving this world with a bang.
- Don’t worry baby girl. You won’t come home and find me dead. I would drive off in your car, pull over somewhere, and shoot myself.-
Of course my eyes seared into him. I didn’t have the fight in me any longer.
~Can you do it outside of my car? I kind of need it and you will leave a bloody mess.~
He cackles.
-I looked into life insurance to leave for you. Doesn’t cover suicide.-
I stop flipping through my magazine.
~Yea… I figured as much. You would have to get crafty and make it look accidental. Somehow that would unravel.~
We stare at each other for a minute.
He has a sweet smile at times. When he is just raw and sincere.
This is the smile I see as I am driving away.
** This is a little excerpt of my life that took place in the year 2000. The story is true to my memory and feelings in that moment. Thank you for taking the time to read… it truly means a-lot to me. **
© bipolarmuse 2012
Related articles
- Bipolarmuse ♥ – The Gun (bipolarmuse.com)
- Bipolarmuse ♥ I NEED HELP (bipolarmuse.com)
- Bipolarmuse ♥ He is “OUT” (bipolarmuse.com)
- Bipolarmuse ♥ Playboy (bipolarmuse.com)
- Bipolarmuse ♥ Not On My Watch (bipolarmuse.com)
- Bipolarmuse ♥ My Poison (bipolarmuse.com)
- Bipolarmuse ♥ Not With A 10 Foot Pole (bipolarmuse.com)
- Bipolarmuse ♥ – I heard Yes (bipolarmuse.com)
- Bipolarmuse ♥ The Ex… Pregnant? (bipolarmuse.com)
- Bipolarmuse ♥ Barrel in your mouth. (bipolarmuse.com)
Check out– i’ve turned my face to the wall
My bestie Sean, who writes alltheavenueslookugly, has started a new blog. His original blog (alltheavenueslookugly) is more of a journal that takes us on a ride in his mind with mental disorders and really shows us the ugly side of what these disorders can do to you. His writing is very raw and intense… and is not sugar coated in the least.
His new blog is i’ve turned my face to the wall. I stole this excerpt from his journal describing this new blog:
**the new blog is the book i have been writing on for quite a while.
i’ve turned my face to the wall
be warned: this is not necessarily in the form it will be published in, and i am waiting on making edits and such until later. i thought it might be kind of fun to see it from an earlier start to where it will eventually become. i won’t be posting the complete book on there, as then there would really be no reason to read it when it is published. but there will be quite a bit. there will also be some other goodies coming later, including other works, links to some amazing writers, and other things.
so if you like it, please follow it, share it with your friends, etc.** Pimp it out my friends!
This book is not a memoir but some pieces are true and some are fiction. Awesome right?? I think so but I am constantly wondering what parts are real… and who is Molly?? I wanna know!! Since he and I are friends, I could ask, but I also want the excitement of just “experiencing” the book. What I also like is that the page lengths vary… some are very short, more poetic…while others dive into the storyline.
Enough of me telling you about it… check it out. His writing is intense and raw and his style makes it so easy and fluid to read. Don’t be surprised if you are like me and saying, “Sean… now is this part truth or fiction”?? I love it.
i’ve turned my face to the wall
This is my life through poetry, quotes, and my journal. The intense ride of my ups and downs of life ...and the relentless mood disorders I suffer from.
