Love is a chemical imbalance…
“…love is a chemical imbalance, too. That perilous highs and desperate lows and extravagant flurries of mood are not always symptoms of a broken mind, but signs of a beating heart.” Terri Cheney
Absolutely! So how do we know when one begins and the other ends?
Life is suppose to come with ups and downs… that is life. Being blue/melancholy is a normal response to sad events… even to change in general. Anyone with a beating heart will experience the highs and lows of life. So why are some people different.
My therapist explained that we feel in different degrees. That most people respond to sadness and happiness to a certain degree within a certain range, and then others with mood disorders have a hyper-sensed sadness and happiness that goes beyond the normal range. We go above and beyond the norms.
To separate the normal swings from the abnormal can at times be difficult to differentiate.
And so I just live.
This is who I am.
Related articles
- Mood Disorders and the Artist (bipolarmuse.com)
- Random Possibilities (bipolarmuse.com)
Sorrow Unmasked
“Your joy is your sorrow unmasked. The deeper that sorrow carves into your being, the more joy you can contain. When you are joyous, look deep into your heart and you shall find it is only that which has given you sorrow that is giving you joy.”
Enough said…
Release
You are burned into my mind…
with a searing heat, relentless.
Always meant to be mine…
Though I tried with might
to release you.
You invade my land of dreams…
with visions of love
You will never release me…
You held to a promise
I never thought you would.
Violate me with your love…
You dance behind my eyes
Leaving no place to run…
Held for ransom
With no way of paying.
© bipolarmuse 2012
This was inspired by B. He has been on my mind a-lot and has been visiting me in my dreams.
6 days until the anniversary of his death.
New Soul – Haiku
Photographer: Ekaterina Grishekina
Bright eyes held to mine
Your soul peers deeply through me
Not old, instead new
© bipolarmuse 2012
Counting The Days
I am counting the days…
accumulating the pain,
hidden in your wicked ways.
Can’t you play nice?
You tricked me already, twice…
choking on all your lies.
A tragic ending…
where there should have been a beginning.
I wake up forgetting.
© bipolarmuse 2012
Changes ~ Haiku
Sorrow in my heart
Pain comes on the heel of change
In the rain I bloom
© 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.
♥
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
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
Show Me
Don’t give me the world,
It is not for me to have.
Show me its glory,
From your backyard instead.
Don’t give forever,
For it isn’t to be had.
Stop the hands of time,
Show me timeless instead.
© bipolarmuse 2012
Before The End
Before The End
In uncomfortable moments of discontent…
Silence prevails, as it is meant.
A Tame tongue and darting eyes…
Keeps truth from parting lips. Rumors hide.
~
When is sorrow, profound, meant to be?
And countless tears turn into a sea?
When is a mountain of courage needed by all?
Before the end. The crumble and the fall.
© bipolarmuse 2012
Bipolarmuse ♥ ~Haunted~
HAUNTED
Dark and chilled.
Shivers travel my spine.
Come on and take a ride…
With me through my world.
~~~… (“I love you baby girl”)…~~~
Is that you??
Baby boy, was that you I heard?
Please come, I’d like you to learn,
This void within my world.
~~~… (“Ten times more baby girl”)…~~~
Sad and broken.
In my heart, misery exists.
Your smell on my skin. Taste on my lips.
Are you in my world?
~~~… (“I love you more baby girl”)…~~~
Where are you?
You’ve forgotten. Remember the promise?
The shivers, chills, your breath on my back… HAUNTED.
Please come to my world.
~~~… (“I miss you baby girl”)…~~~
I WANT IT!
Screaming madly in my head…
Have I gone mad instead?
I WANT IT…
to be HAUNTED.
Like you promised…
HAUNTED.
Welcome to my world…
~~~… (“Hugs and kisses baby girl”)…~~~
© bipolarmuse 7.24.2002
**This poem was written nearly two month to the day after the suicide of my ex. It was no surprise that he killed himself, he talked about it all the time. I made him promise to haunt me if he did die, and I can honestly say I feel like I was haunted for quite some time.
Every passage ~~~…(“like this”)…~~~ was something I found written in my books, photo albums, or on slips of paper hiding in places for me to find. They were truly his words that I found within the first year after his death. I incorporated his verbal “hauntings” into this poem that was written nearly 10 years ago. Just something I wanted to share. ♥ **
Precarious ~ Haiku
Have you met my soul?
She’s a precarious thing.
Your silence proves it.
© bipolarmuse 2012
Always Keep Trying
I LOVE this quote. Courage comes in all different forms and I believe that even when we feel defeated… when we make the decision to try again tomorrow… it takes a great amount of courage to do so.
It is not easy to feel life beat you down every single day…to feel like every effort is made with pain, made in vain. But to make the decision to move forward and to try again day after day. That is true courage.
I know for myself, the silent roar of courage made behind the veil of tears have been my most courageous moments. Those have been the moments that took the most strength and willpower to move forward and not give up.
Don’t feel that you are weak… every single day you make the effort to get up… to go about your day no matter how difficult it can be… and every single day, whether it ends in tears or starts with tears… you resolve to keep trying.
That is strength and that is courage. I applaud you.
My friends, you are not alone. Your struggles are never in vain… please know that you have purpose. ♥
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
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. **
Related articles
- Bipolarmuse ♥ Barrel in your mouth. (bipolarmuse.com)
The Muses
The Muses
The Muses…
They whisper in my ear.
In awe, I stare…
As words fall…
From their sweet lips
To paper, in pieces and bits.
~
The muses…
Their eyes show me a story.
They ask for no recognition, no glory.
The words storm in my heart…
Indeed flitter in my mind.
Created to be shared, not held as mine.
© bipolarmuse 2012
House Of The Rising Sun
Ahhhhh, such a lovely way to start my morning. I so dig this chick.
Her voice is amazing.
Check it!
House Of The Rising Son covered by Haley Reinhart
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. **
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Time Is Running Out ~ Muse
This song jams… and this version is acoustic… which makes it even better. ♥
I lurve Muse
Time Is Running Out
Hope
What is hope?? The definition is: desire accompanied by expectation of or belief in fulfillment; also : expectation of fulfillment or success
Hope is the very thing that is lost while in the throes of depression. You can lose many parts of yourself, but when hope has been lost… it can be a very dangerous place to be.
I know the feeling all too well, as I have lost hope many times. I have had moments when I felt life would not get better, I had lost hope in it. I lost hope in being happy. I lost the hope of thriving. Lost the hope of living tear free, fear free. Lost hope in myself. When I got to that point, it was a matter of life and death and to choose life… I had to fight. Fortunately, my children have been my beacon of hope during my darkest moment.
Why did I want to write about this? Because I want people to know that when hope is lost, you can fight for it. As I did.
Don’t lose hope, I have hope in you. ♥
Bipolarmuse ♥ Not On My Watch
Not On My Watch
Oh my fucking Jesus. Really?? I had to leave work early to pick B up.
Why? He decided to get fucked up on some drug and could barely talk when he called me for a ride.
I am fuming, furious, sick to my stomach over how I might find him. Walking into the side door of his work and the dark room to his “camera room” for Loss Prevention, I want to punch him in the face.
He sits there, slumping in the chair. He tries to speak but just slurs.
- Hi baby girl- All sloppy and slurry.
I look at him and think of everything imaginable from clawing out his eyes to ripping his hair out. When will this end?? His addiction just seem to get worse and worse and I cannot do a fucking thing about it.
I help him out of his seat and realize just how drugged up he is. He is barely able to stand, let alone walk.
~ What did you take B?? More pills?~
He shows me an empty vial of Ativan. Liquid Ativan. So… apparently his addictions have crossed over into injecting shit into his already damaged body.
B cackles. So impressed with himself. It’s his usual reaction when he knows he has seriously crossed a line. Great! I love the cackle B, make me love you even more. NOT.
He reaches into his pocket before we reach his car to drive home and pulls out ANOTHER liquid vial of Ativan. My head is spinning. How can you be enraged and in love with the same breath.
~ Give it to me B. NOW.~
B hands it over, still cackling. I am too kind and help him into the passenger side of his car… thinking of how to dispose of the Ativan. I close his car door and I realize I have the perfect solution. Not one he will like, but one that I will.
Poor B, he is going to be fuming. ((I smile)). I place the vial behind the back tire and then get into the driver side. I turn the ignition, put the car in reverse, and roll that shit over. As I pull away, I am satisfied to see the vial smashed into smithereens.
- Where’s my vial?-
~ You don’t have a vial anymore. Too bad, so sad.~
Of course his response does not come as a shock… the cackle.
- I can get more baby girl. I love you baby girl.- All sloppy and slurred.
UGH. I just look at him with the look of death. Was he just getting high…or trying to die. Probably trying to die…as he has been trying to die from the moment I met him.
Not today B… not on my fucking watch.
© 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 ♥ Do I Ever… (bipolarmuse.com)
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.
