Bipolarmuse ♥ Can you say Psycho?!
Can you say Psycho?!
I am beginning to truly realize what I have gotten myself into. Aside from his desire to die, I am learning quick that B is more than I bargained for…
B is a man-whore. His phone is constantly ringing, he is always silencing his phone, and then he listens to the messages from what he thinks is a safe distance from me hearing. WRONG. And what I hear is NON-STOP girl-whores asking him to come over… “I don’t care if you have a girlfriend now”, “lets hang out like old times”. BLAH, BLAH, BLAH. This shit will either stop, or I will become crazy.
Guess which comes first.
So I do what any “normal” girlfriend would do and figure out the code to get into his voice-mail, and I listen to his messages. That’s right. I have become that girl.
The first try was easy, got it right away. His favorite combo of numbers entered twice. (See ladies, it does pay off to know your mans favorite numbers). I don’t even feel ashamed that I check his messages and then leave them on his phone so that later, when he checks them, they are still there yet not listed as “new messages”. I am flaunting my new possessed skill in his face.
Then the number changes. He finally got smart. Not smart enough though because it takes me all of 1 minute to realize he used his sons birthday. So once again I am back in the business of having access to all of his voice-mail messages.
He changes the code several times and I manage to figure out EACH new code. I am a proud crazy woman.
What I hear is highly disturbing and I get a thrill out of it. I have become the crazy ass girlfriend/fiance. Ya know, the one who looks through phone records, sneaks into his messages, calls the girl-whores to tell them that they better back the fuck off because I am not opposed to slicing fake titties off of a bitch. Yes, I said that.
Who have I become??? Can you say Psycho?! This is not me at all. I have become crazy and completely obsessed with B and his shenanigans. Instead of using it as an excuse to leave the relationship, I use it as bait to get into bigger fights. Bigger fights = a bigger make up. The more crazy I get, the happier B seems to be. The more “destined” we are for each other. (Insert sarcasm for that last sentence).
One specific woman that B works with is relentless and I believe she is getting off on all of this crazy attention. So what does she do?? She calls B more often, leaving messages that would send any girlfriend (especially the crazy kind) into a fucking frenzy.
I have had it with her. I am nuts… I don’t even recognize myself anymore as I go stomping into his employment and to this lady-whores department. She is lucky that a glass counter separates us. I lean in close so she can hear me…
~If you do not leave my Fiance the fuck alone, I am going to come in here and put that lovely little face of yours through the fucking glass counter. (SMILE)~
She is completely silent and backed away as far as she can get from me.
Mission accomplished. The bitch never called again.
The next time I happened to see her was at B’s funeral. Good girl for doing what you were told.
© bipolarmuse 2012
** This is a little excerpt of my life that took place in the year 2000/2001. 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. **
Day 22/30
Day 22: What do you want your future to be like?
I want simplicity.
I want to be content with what I have and who I am.
I want to watch my children grow up and to be there every step of the way cheering them on in every aspect of their lives.
I want to grow older gracefully.
I want to find work that I love to do.
I want to continue writing and self publish my traumatic past, my mindful- more positive present, and my poems.
I want to look forward without fear of where I may go.
I just want to be a ship going with the flow. ♥
Bipolarmuse ♥ – The Gun
The Gun
Now for the easy part of this whole cluster fuck. I am disposing of the huge ass gun that B supposedly “borrowed” from a friend. Frankly, I don’t give a damn where he got it, but I am getting rid of it.
This thing is so huge and terrifying to me…so terrifying that I just see it as gigantic and deadly.
B is still in bed resting from his night of pill popping/suicidal ideation, but he knows what I am doing so he decides to get up.
I am standing next to the island that separates the kitchen from the living room…staring hypnotically at the gun. What the fuck do I do with it?!
Perfect solution… I will take it to my Aunt, she will know what we should do.
B is all of a sudden standing behind me urging me to keep the gun because it is a “friends”.
I call BULLSHIT. Serious bullshit. And I push him forcefully back.
For all I know, he could have stolen the gun from a friend of his or “bought” it from a friend. In any case, I DON’T CARE.
~ B, you know how I feel about guns… not to mention that I can’t trust you to refrain from shooting me in the back of the head for shits and giggles and then shooting yourself.~
Off goes the cackle… – You are crazy baby girl, that is why we are perfect for each other.-
Yeah, no way would I allow that gun to remain in his hands, nor in mine.
I wrap the gun in a towel… with B protesting every step of the way. His cackle becomes more and more nervous… then nearly stops all together.
I grab a cleaning bucket from the laundry room and place the nicely- towel- wrapped- gun into the bucket, along with the extra hollow point bullets…covering it with another towel.
B is not very happy at the moment… but do I care? HELL NO. He has tortured me so many times with this type of bullshit.
- What the fuck man? You can’t just get rid of it!-
I laugh out loud… B knows me by now and I just give him “the look” to shut his face.
He cackles… that insidious sound echos in my bones. He then retreats back into the bedroom, slamming the door behind him, he doesn’t have much fight in him today. Thank God. I fear with each fight that I get more violent with him.
~~~~~~~~~
I drive to my Aunts house who happens to live around the corner.
I nervously get out of the car and go inside to chit chat with her. She knows instantly that something is not right…she has a knack for that when it comes to me. She knows B and has personally “chest bumped” him with her entire 110lbs, and yelled at him… threatening him to take care of me and straighten out his act. She knows he is bad news, yet supports my decisions.
She can read me so well…
-What’s going on?? I can tell something’s up.-
I lead her out to the car and open my trunk.
I gently remove the towel and expose the gun to show her.
- OH MY GOD baby girl (obviously an overused nickname for me). Where did you get that??!!- Her voice is beyond frantic.
~ I had the wonderful privilege last night of thinking that B killed himself and found this gun just chillin on the counter in our apartment, so I took it and I want to get rid of it. ~
Aunt Deb always has the perfect solution.
We jump in my car and drive to the police station. I walk in with the bucket and hand it to an officer.
I explained that my Aunt and I “found” this gun and the bullets in the gutter near her house. (Yes, lame excuse I know, but I was scared and in shock over how to handle this).
The officer pulled it out, along with the bullets.
- You found THIS gun and hollow point bullets in the gutter?-
~ Yes officer, we did, and we don’t want it to fall into the wrong hands so we brought it here. God forbid if a kid had found it.~
I felt guilty lying to the police, but the gun had to fucking go.
This is the second gun I have taken from B.
Bipolarmuse/2….. B/zeroooooo.
© bipolarmuse 2012
** 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. **
Related articles
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- Bipolarmuse ♥ Not On My Watch (bipolarmuse.com)
- Bipolarmuse ♥ My Poison (bipolarmuse.com)
- Bipolarmuse ♥ Not With A 10 Foot Pole (bipolarmuse.com)
- Bipolarmuse ♥ Barrel in your mouth. (bipolarmuse.com)
Charmed
Charmed
Firefly utopian dreams.
Dandelion wishes…
Riding on pixie wings.
~
Enchanted lands…
Offering magical secrets,
In mother natures hands.
~
Riding on dreamy rainbows…
Pure in light, take flight…
Unseen wings travel to lands unknown.
~
Whispers hushed…gently carried.
Charmed only for those,
Who are awake and ready.
© bipolarmuse 2012
Bipolarmuse ♥ He is “OUT”
He is “OUT”
Unbelievable.
B must be out of his favorite painkiller and has inevitably decided to take it out on me. Happens every single fucking time.
When he is not riding the amazing feeling of Vicodin, he becomes the hugest asshole on the face of the planet… especially when he is COMPLETELY out.
What the hell did I just walk into?
Every single photo of us together has been taken down from the wall and the frames are stacked up empty.
Are we having a fight I am totally, inexplicably unaware of?
B is in a frenzy. He is edgy, fidgety, flighty, and in the throes of a clammy cold sweat. Oh yea, he is detoxing BIG time. Poor B… no more pills for you. (SMILE).
~Where the fuck are our pictures B?~
The fucking cackle… it is his trademark.
His eyes are darting to the spare bedroom. His smile wicked. His eyes wild. His face is pitiful. He was in his haughty, smug element…which was becoming the new “norm”.
I glance into the spare room, and to my fucking amazement he has torn every single framed picture of us together into tiny little pieces. Not large rips that could be repaired, but like fucking confetti.
~Why the fuck did you rip up all of our pictures?!~
B is frantically getting his shit together. He puts on his shoes… grabs his wallet and car keys… and throws on his leather jacket.
~Uhhhh, where do you think your going? And what about our fucking pictures?!~
- Baby girl, we have more pictures, and it isn’t your business where I am going.-
The cackle, the wild eyes, his blatant rude and cruel mood. I am fed up and seeing red.
I begin crying hysterically.
He decided to rip up our pictures and then give ME this attitude like I have done something wrong.
All that is wrong is that he has an addiction to pills and he is apparently OUT of them. Who better to take it out on than me… right?
My makeup is running into my eyes, tears are running off of my face, snot is streaming down my nose, and my anger has reached an all new high.
I block B from the door because I KNOW where he is going… he is going to go find pills.
He is trying to push by me but I am relentlessly pushing back, hitting him in the chest with my fists, trying to rip his jacket off his fucking body.
~Don’t you love me?! If you loved me you would fuckin try to get better!! You are so fucking cruel! ~
I snatch his key and chuck them across the room.
Now the cackle turns into the “you stepped over the line” smirk and humph sound he loves, second only to the cackle.
His eyes tell me that I better fucking stop. I have crossed the line.
My mascara is running down my eyes and face…my eyes feel so puffy that I can barely see. I am crying to the point that I cannot breath. My fists hurt from hitting him. Our fucking pictures are ripped into smithereens.
What matters to this asshole? The pills.
He retrieves his keys, pushes me aside and holds me at the entryway hall with one arm while opening the front door with the other.
I watch him with the stare of death and lost hope.
He closes the door behind him.
He is “out”.
An hour later he is back… loving, sweet, cuddly, and affectionate.
And his pupils are the size of a pin dot… looks like he found what he was looking for.
© bipolarmuse 2012
** 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. **
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- Bipolarmuse ♥ – I heard Yes (bipolarmuse.com)
- Bipolarmuse ♥ Barrel in your mouth. (bipolarmuse.com)
Bipolarmuse ♥ My Poison
My Poison
Damn! I can’t get in touch with B.
This morning was dreadful…there was something in his eyes that didn’t sit well with me. He is highly agitated, withdrawn, not making eye contact, and acting “off” to say the least.
No matter his mood, I have to work, even if my gut instinct is to call out to “watch” him.
I have talked to him only once since getting to work and he is beyond cocky and arrogant… not to mention that his tone of voice lacks love and compassion.
My day progresses and I have not recieved any calls from him. FUCK. Every time I try to call him, his phone goes directly to voice-mail. What should I do?? I can tell in my gut, the rancid taste of anxiety in my throat, that something is not right.
I am now freaking the fuck out.
I still have another hour of work and I simply cannot leave.
I call the roommate of B’s sister since she lives in the same apartment complex, and I ask her to please check to see if his car is there, and if so, to please go knock on the door to make sure he is ok.
Everyday it feels like I am trying to keep this wild, crazy man alive. It is so taxing on me that I literally feel sick daily. I have lost a tremendous amount of weight… from 110lbs to 86lbs which is absolutely frightening. I eat, but I get sick from stress and cannot hold food in. This is my life with B… constant stress and chaos.
She checks on him and calls me back.
- His car is there but he is not answering the door.-
Panic begins to set in… not simple anxiety, but panic. The panic that makes me sick and believe that I am going to pass out or die.
Work is over and I RACE home. I am so sick to my stomach that I contemplate pulling over to puke out all my nerves.
What am I going to find when I get home?? B overdosed?? Maybe he got his hands on a new gun (I have already gotten rid of the one he owned).
Oh my God, please don’t let me find him with his head blown off, blood all over the place.
Please be alive.
I walk through the door of our apartment… I am shaking uncontrollably at this point and convinced that he has finally succeeded at killing himself.
The apartment is dark and I fear turning on the lights. What is the fucking light going to reveal to me?
I contemplate calling the police.
Instead, I turn on the light and glance around the room. He isn’t in here, but the bedroom door is closed. That is where he is, probably dead.
I walk past the kitchen and noticed he had written on a piece of paper hanging on the wall that says, “I’m sorry. I love you all”.
My trembling increases and I am on the verge of throwing up. Then I notice a huge ass gun sitting on the island that divides the kitchen from the living area. I am somewhat relieved because if the gun is here, then obviously he didn’t use it.
Now I have to worry about an overdose.
I grab the doorknob to our bedroom and hold my breath. I peek inside and it is pitch black. No light is shining whatsoever. Darkness envelopes me.
I flip on the light and B is laying in bed. I can see his face and I take note of the puffiness under his eyes. He was probably crying all day… I have seen it happen before.
I go to him and see the rise and fall of his chest. Fuck yes! He is still alive!! All my fucking emotions come out and I run to the bathroom and puke up any ounce of food left in my stomach and then dry heaved for a hot minute.
I then wake B up. It is a bit difficult for him to come out of his sleep and he is not very alert. He definitely was high on something. He gets high on anything… muscle relaxers, pain pills, alcohol combined with any downer he can get his hands on. You name it, he will get high on it.
I start to cry, uncontrollable sobs. The type that takes the breath from your chest.
- I love you baby girl, I couldn’t do it. -
I punch him in the chest.
Sobbing ~ If you ever do that to me again B, you better be dead, or I will kill you myself. And by the way, that gun will not be here tomorrow. I am fucking disposing of it. ~
I punch him one more time for good measure and then I hear the cackle.
Fuckin’ B and his cackle will be the death of me.
My poison.
© bipolarmuse 2012
** 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. **
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Dexter Morgan ~ 5/7/5 Poem
Hehehe, don’t make fun of me. Dexter is my all time favorite show/dude and I came up with this 5/7/5 poem (I won’t call it a Haiku). Don’t judge. LOL
Dexter TV love
A blood spatter dream come true
Won’t you kill for me
© bipolarmuse 2012
**BAM!**
As you can see in my gravatar, I am a Dexter fan, donning a shirt proving such. Not only does the shirt prove my undying love for him, but I also use a quote of his on my gravatar. That is how I roll.
Here is another pic for your enjoyment.
“Three olives, shake it up, I like it dirty” Muahahahaha.
Rare steak and martinis are my fav!!!
Bipolarmuse ♥ Not With A 10 Foot Pole
Not With A 10 Foot Pole
I live for “after” work hang outs.
As usual everyone is headed to TGIFridays for the late night happy hour libations. Oh yes, this is where I get my drink on and drink my HUGE mug of Killians with a straw. Yes, I just said that.
Tonight has such a wonderful air to it. Everyone is pumped to be off work and the men and women are having a good time flirting, smoking, drinking. I’M having a fantastic time drinking and flirting… I am single, I can do these things… that’s how I roll.
I am with my room-mate when another friend from our work joined our group with a handsome…no strike that… HAWT friend in tow. Happens to be that they are cousins and room-mates. Nice.
So I am sitting across from the cousins and the HAWT one is completely eyeball fucking me with these wild eyes. I can’t tell you what any of the conversations are about because all I can pay attention to is those wild eyes burning into me.
Sure, I am a fairly pretty girl, but this man is above my league. He is tall, muscular, gorgeous, masculine… yet beautiful in a “pretty” way. His clothes were crisp and pristine, his hair in place. My immediate thought was “Greek God”. Seriously.
Luckily for me, the bar closes at 1am so I do not have to worry about Hawt dudes searing gaze for very long. I was highly intimidated by him.
Low and behold… right under my nose, the room-mate makes plans for an after “party” with the cousins at their apartment. Fucking Great!! I don’t know what it is about Hawt dude but I want nothing to do with his playa’ playa’ self. I was disgustingly pleased she made the plans behind my back, yet at the same time resistant.
While still at the bar, Hawt dude and I make small conversation. I remember none of it except his wild eyes and his nervous cackle. Oh…and yea… that he doesn’t “do” girlfriends.
Well lucky for you Hawt dude because I don’t do boyfriends either. We are on the same page.
Everyone stands to leave and I grab my room-mate by the arm and whisper in her ear…
~Don’t let me touch him with a 10 foot pole. ~
I had a gut feeling that Hawt dude was bad news… BAD news.
Her response is so classic…
-Will you at least touch him, just once, for me then. -
FUCK! No roomie… no, no, no. Not with a 10 foot pole.
And so, tonight I met B (aka Hawt dude)… and we started our two year love affair.
Don’t trust 10 foot poles, they never work. I can honestly say I didn’t touch him, not this night.
© bipolarmuse 2012
** 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. **
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Bipolarmuse ♥ – I heard Yes
I Heard Yes
I am so excited, giddy, and sick to my stomach.
Am I sick to my stomach from excitement, or something else? I try to shake it but it will not go away.
I have everything that I need… black light, glow in the dark ink, blindfold, a nice dark ambiance. Am I really going to do this? I know this man has his demons but I have mine too. Two peas in a pod I say, though I am the healthier pea.
Love sick…sick love.
Everything is in place before he comes home from work. B knows “something” is up, but not fully. I can hear the excitement in his voice and I give away nothing. It will be a secret until the moment he opens his eyes.
I am doing this despite knowing that this man swears he will not live to see 25 years of age. I have heard it a billion times:
- I don’t want to get old. 25 is too old.- cackle
Lovely B. How are we suppose to have that nice house with a white picket fence if you can’t see a couple years down the road. Fucker.
This does not detour me though. Nothing can once I am on a mission.
He comes home. His eyes wild… his smile huge… his cackle somehow different, giddy in a way. Our bedroom door is closed, as I left it. He starts toward it but I jump in the way.
~Not yet. Put this on.~
I help him put the blindfold over his eyes and slowly walk him through the bedroom door, close it, and turn on the black light. He sits on the bed and scoots all the way back to the wall. I follow of course, sitting between his legs.
Facing the same direction, looking at the wall where the black light is shining its glorious light…
I tell B he can remove the blindfold.
As he does, I can hear that he holds his breath.
My heart is pounding so hard I know he can feel it. I am sweaty, clammy, frightened of what he might say. Yet ecstatic.
- Yes baby girl, yes I will marry you.-
On November 11th I wrote on our bedroom wall with glow in the dark ink, “Will you marry me B”?
I flipped the roles.
All I could hear was the thumping of my heart and “yes”.
© bipolarmuse 2012
** 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. **
Related articles
- Bipolarmuse ♥ Not On My Watch (bipolarmuse.com)
- A little Bipolarmuse ♥ (bipolarmuse.com)
Mishka~ Above The Bones
So I was thinking… oh yeah, I could use some soft soothing tunes to help me with today and I turned this song on.
When I first discovered it, I was having a hard time in life and surely wanting to go “home”. His voice just calls to me and makes me ponder life in general. Great vibes.
“Filled with compassion, not scarred by anger. No, not blinded by the ashes of the past”.
Re-blogs
My lovely friends, I want to let you know that I will be doing many re-blogs of my OLD posts that will go into the new Bipolarmuse ♥ category. If you are interested in reading them, please do. They are from 2010 and up.
I hope you enjoy, otherwise… just delete what goes to your inbox. LOL.
Thank you for all of your support.
p.s. Many of them will be quite depressing, but if you look at my posts as a “whole”, you can surely see the improvements I have made in life. ♥
Bipolarmuse ♥ Barrel in your mouth.
Barrel In Your Mouth
Mirrors. Seriously? If I am laying in bed I should be staring up at the ceiling… but nope, just mirrors. Of course B would have mirrors on his ceiling. That is just how he rolls and I have to say I enjoy it myself too. Just not at this moment.
This particular morning doesn’t sit well with me. Most morning with him never did.
He was always in a bad mood in the morning…bitchy…withdrawn…cocky as hell.
I was always in a bad mood in the morning… pretty much with the same attributes.
Two fuckin peas in a pod.
He is awake too and turns on the stereo next to him… playing some remix CD that he had created, supposedly for “us”, which obviously I question.
We are both laying there. Both silent. He looks over at me and decides to talk.
-I don’t know what prevents me from rolling over, reaching past you, opening your nightstand drawer to pull out the gun, and then jam the barrel in your mouth, breaking your teeth, and pull the fucking trigger.-
I am not in fear, I do not panic at what he says. I do, however, have a quick retort…
~Because I would fuckin beat you to it and shoot you in your face… call it a successful suicide.~
He smiles deliriously and laughs his haughty laugh.
- That is why I love you baby girl. You are crazy!-
All of a sudden he is all sweet and joking, thinking he is so cool, as always.
I lay there for a moment and it hits me… this is one fucked up relationship. Why was I still in it?
Crazy, STUPID, love. That is why.
Next thought… the gun needs to go.
© bipolarmuse 2012
** 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. **
Related articles
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Your Voice Sings To Me Haiku Style
Soft and smooth like silk
Tasting of golden honey
Your voice sings to me
© bipolarmuse 2012
Day 14/30
Day 14: A picture of you last year – how have you changed?
~Well, I can say that last year I was about 10lbs thinner than I am now… which isn’t much, yet on my small frame it sure seems like a-lot. 
These meds put a whopping 25 extra pounds on me and I have yet to lose 10. Not a biggie, it will get done.
~ A year ago I was highly suicidal.
~ A year ago, my children were the sole reason for me not committing suicide.
~ A year ago I had addiction problems.
~ A year ago I was rapid cycling and would be manic for weeks/months on end…then depressed all in the same day… with pretty much zero sleep.
~ I cried every single day, sometimes all day.
~ I stayed out all night and got home when the son came up.
~ A year ago, I couldn’t envision “tomorrow”.
~ A year ago, I was in the throes of a year and a half mental breakdown.
~ A year ago, I did not value myself.
~ A years ago this month, I moved to family for support and structure to get mentally healthy.
With the exception of crying frequently, I am none of the previous things I mentioned… my children still keep me going though. 
♥ With every day comes the gift of change.♥
I Need The Strength
I Need The Strength
Pain in my heart, how my soul weeps.
To know when to release…
What is not aligned with my higher purpose.
I need the strength, the resolution…
To come to a sound, inspired conclusion.
To transcend what lies on the surface.
What prices will I come to pay?
For this heartache, this very real pain…
Of knowing that which my heart knows.
I need to value myself, love the greater “me”…
Like a bird, I must fly and be free.
Still, my heart is fickle, as my soul silently weeps.
© bipolarmuse 2012
~ This poem was inspired by a Prayer (Mantra) that YAMYAH had written here. ~
Day 13/30
Day 13: Goals
Oh WOW is this a loaded one. There are sooooo many goals on a very personal level that the larger goals have kind of gone to the wayside… not that they are not important…but I want to be working on MYSELF and taking the baby steps necessary to ensure success when it is time to face those big ones.
Some goals:
~ Take care of myself emotionally and mentally.
~ Be who I am.
~ Get over my insecurities, hold my head HIGH, and face what life has in plan for me.
~ Hold the past as a cherished memory instead of as a ball of razorblades.
~ Inspire myself by inspiring others.
~ Learn more.
~ Make more friends.
~ Be an even better Mom DAILY.
~ Love myself. ♥
~ Have more fun!
~ One day, instead of being an unpublished poet, I would like to be a published one. I do not want to die like Emily Dickinson and THEN get published… although she never wanted to be… that little fact is besides the point.
ADDICTED
This dubstep music is highly addicting. Another song I am addicted to… and the video is ABSOLUTELY amazing. The song and video make each other. Check it out. If this could take place in our world, there would be ZERO child predators.
First Of The Year (Equinox) – Skrillex
Red Razorback Bunnies are a SUCCESS!!
The lil ones received their package with the bunnies that I desperately tried to make red and it was a HIT. They were in HOG HEAVEN (pun intended) when they got my lil razorBunnies and I was so happy when I got this picture that I cried. ♥
My Mommy efforts paid off and the babies are happily playing and eating candy.
I asked their Dad if they liked them though they were “rough like a Razorback” and he said~~they like the color…they are like rigor mortis though~~. Dang straight. Those Razorback Bunnies are bulletproof!!!
Babies in RazorBunny HEAVEN
Now I can sleep tight and have a good weekend. xoxo
p.s. My oldest daughter just now informed me she is getting a potbellied pig… one that will stay small forever! Think we could color it red?! I kid! Hehehehe…. but seriously, she is really getting a potbellied pig. Pics to come!
You Never Feel Alone
You Never Feel Alone
I don’t want to know why.
Or how the time flew by.
Or exactly how high…
You may have been flyin.
Or why you chose me,
That one person to be…
Staring at you and see,
Your violent way to leave.
I cannot relate the pain…
How I followed you to your grave.
How nothing is the same…
Or how no one is to blame.
In some way there is peace,
You get to rest in sleep.
What is left is them… and me..
And we wish you didn’t need to leave.
Hope you leapt through stars…
Found your way to Jupiter and Mars.
Erased blemishes and scars.
Look on us who are not far.
We know you had to go,
This I feverishly do know.
You had lost every ounce of hope,
Now, you never feel alone. ♥
© bipolarmuse 2012
**”B” has been on my mind a-lot. The anniversary of his death is coming up (in May) and I feel like I have so much to say. May he be resting, his mind calm, sorrows gone, remembering all who remember him.** ♥
Embrace Change
All changes, even the most longed for, have their melancholy; for what we leave behind is a part of ourselves; we must die to one life before we can enter into another!
Gail Sheehy
Let us speak of change. Most are afraid of it and few are passionate about it. We can say we love to “change” all we want but is that reflected in our actions. I speak for myself when I say that change is good. Growth in self is good. However, to change…we must be willing to be uncomfortable, for that is the way to grow. It is not an easy task to make up your mind and step out of your comfort zone… but that is exactly what must be done in order for Change to come about. It is not instant gratification. It takes time to make that step and come out of your comfort zone to work on the change you wish to be, so it is a long term goal and one that may take time to become “comfortable” with.
We do need to walk away from pieces of who we are in order to gain the new… and while it is not always easy to do, it can be done.
Feed your mind positive affirmations and tell that committee in your head to shut its face… and do not fear to take that step out of your comfort level. You may be pleasantly surprised at what life has in store for you. ♥
Embrace and step out into the winds of Change.
Day 11/30
Day 11: A quote you love.
I love so many quotes it is truly hard to break it down to simply 1. I may sneak a couple in if I am feeling frisky.
“For it was not into my ear you whispered, but into my heart. It was not my lips you kissed, but my soul.”~Judy Garland
This quote just sinks into the core of who I am and makes me melt. Most people think of this quote as a romantic love… but for me, I think of my children… for they are my heart and soul.
“My ideas usually come not at my desk writing but in the midst of living.”~ Anais Nin
This quote is the truth! I cannot tell how many times I have been out doing something and it will strike a creative moment where stanzas just come to me and I have nothing to write them on. So I have promised myself to get a small tablet of paper to keep with me… and I have yet to do it. LOL.
Anais Nin
Off With Their Heads!
Off With their Heads!
As the red queen says.
I fight the enemy,
As invisible as they may be.
You may rage in my mind,
But you will die, in due time.
I fight for my true “self”.
Fend off the heat of Hell.
I can say for certain,
I’m a sponge, simply observing.
You will not last long…
I will not allow you to sing my song.
Fight with mighty power dear Ego
One day, you will let go.
You will lose, you see?
Everyday I take back “me”.
Off with their Heads! As it goes…
You will cease, as your head rolls.
© bipolarmuse 2012
** This poem was inspired by my determination and will to not allow these mood disorders to continue taking over who I am. I refuse and I know each day I win the little battles… soon it will be the big ones too.**
Dubstep
A picture of me and the side of my lovely sons head.
P.S. I crocheted his beanie!
He is so good at NOT getting pics with me… arrggghhh (my angry pirate jargon).
So, the last couple months or so, he has introduced me to a new form of music called Dubstep. At first I was like, “Is it a dance, or is it a style of music”. I know it is music, but there is also a certain style of dance that goes with it as you can see in the first video listed below. Gah, I wish I could dance. What I can tell you is that it is a genre of electric dance music, though it is much slower tempo-ed than Techno. I was a fan of Techno for a while, back in the day and this music reminds me of it, only “softer” if that makes sense. They do a-lot of remixes Dubstep style. I love the changing of the beats and find the music a bit soothing. I have found conflicting information about the BPM of Dubstep music. Some say it is 70BPM and others say 140BPM. Read a little about it in this forum if you like.
One characteristic of certain strands of dubstep is the wobble bass, where an extended bass note is manipulated rhythmically.~ Wikipedia.
My favorite song that has been remixed into Dubstep is Pumped Up Kicks by Foster the People.. Check it out.
This is how my son and I have been bonding lately… he is more the silent type with me (like his Dad, lol) but he loves to show me new music in this genre…and I LOVE watching him dance to it.
Another song that I was introduced to by Sediment_ and_ Such is Crave You by Flight Facilities.
Here is the vid.
For me it is music I could veg with… or trip with, but I don’t do drugs so I will stick with vegging.
Hope you check out these videos, even if just for a second. I wanted to share these songs with you along with my bonding experience with my son. He ROCKS. ♥ We don’t talk for hours, instead he shows me music, games, and hilariously crude funny stuff. He is very good at getting you by saying “That’s what she said” after you say something it would pertain to…so I have to watch my mouth around him. LOL
Day 10/30
Day 10: Something you’re afraid of.
I could certainly name a few things so I think that is what I will do…
1. Heights- but it never stops me from going up the Stratosphere in Las Vegas.
2. Rough Razorback Bunnies- they looked devilishly cute.
3. Myself- Well, more so in previous years… lately I have not been afraid.
4. SNAKES- UGH, these scare the bajeezus out of me.
5. Tornado’s- I dream of them all the time and I don’t want to get lost in Oz.
6. The warning about my meds that a side affect is SUDDEN DEATH… wth??
7. Serial killers- Their crazy! Less than 2% of their victims survive.
8. Balloons popping- I hate the noise!
9. Biscuit cans- you have to unroll the paper around them and then they “pop” in your hands. LOL
10. Missing to much of my babies lives. ♥
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.
