Tag Archives: Menta-Illness

Blue is such a bitter flavor

Posted by Zeannaroux on

I started some new medications recently—something to rid me of these anxious thoughts and my inability to sleep. I would love to state that I am doing better, but I am not. Those who are privy to medication know that it takes some time for the true effects to be known. But this made me think of something that I may have spoken about before.

Hospitals

Rather, hospitals with a psych ward that keep patients between 3 to 5 days on average. All depending on what their insurance is willing to cover, of course.

I have been to many of them in my years and can remember how each visit ended in a lie.

Yes! I am fine.

The funny thing is that this lie was encouraged. They were cultivated by doctors and nurses who wanted to send you on your merry way. I am sure it wasn’t their true intention to make liars of us all, but they did. I remember one hospital stay. I had an episode because they would not let me see my child during visitations. Said that I had not yet earned to privilege of such a treasure. Of course, I was livid and reacted in a way one with a mental disorder would. I cried. I screamed; I tore up pieces of paper as a way to prevent myself from assaulting a nurse. I did all of the things because I was in pain and needed an outlet.

Rightly so, this did not give me what I wanted. But I remember my doctor coming up to me later that evening. He warned me that due to my outburst, they were thinking of keeping me an extra day. He acted as though me staying till I was better was this terrible thing. I felt so confused when he said this because I did not see it as such. Yet his cautious words stuck with me as he went on to say, “Pretend that everything is fine, don’t let them see you react. Tell them that you are fine.”

So I did. I perfected the art of smiling while crying as a child and as an adult; I learned to hide my fears with sarcasm and anger. So I combined these skills in such a way that I came off as Ok. I was Ok, to the nurses at least. And instead of being made to stay an extra day, I was released a day earlier with none the wiser that I was dying inside. And that medication? It magically started working after only three days of taking it. A mental ward miracle, as we all learned to describe it.

And that doctor…

I hate him.

Not because of the advice he had given me but from the sheer fact that he proved that this whole system is flawed when I needed so much for it to work. I was done with lying, but he reminded me that a liar’s talents are always in use.

And the medication? It ended up not working for me. But of course, I did not know this till a month later. Luckily by that one, I had a psychiatrist who helped me figure out meds that did work. On top of that, I also saw a therapist regularly. I eventually stopped it, and for a few years, I did fine. But now I am back on them because I am no longer Fine.

So I sit here remembering that doctor and wondering to myself if he is doing ok.

A soul infected

Posted by Zeannaroux on

I am writing this after seeing a post from a blogger talking about her parenting experience during the pandemic.

Now, she isn’t the only one to write about it. Probably 1 of millions if we are being completely honest. Yet, hers is the first one I had even bothered to look at. Not that there wasn’t any chance to do so, because like I said, plenty of people are writing about this topic. I just haven’t been in a place where I could read about other experiences. So when taking the dive to finally understand what others are doing it is interesting that I ran across hers.

This experience has been trying. As many of my readers know I have a mental disorder. One that can make like a bit more complicated than it needs to be. One would think that this pandemic has scattered me. Made it hard to do much of anything as I curled into a ball awaiting the day we all die. Really, that isn’t remotely near enough to the panic state I have been thrust into.

Instead, image this, a mother and her child sitting on the couch binge watching movies. Cut to a few hours later when said mother is in her room while her child is in a different area. They are both doing different activities but both are quiet. They are content in ways you wouldn’t image would be the case in such situations. They are happy with the lack of responsibility.

But, if you wish to stick around a little longer, you will find the child sleeping and the mother crying alone in her room.

That is my reality.

See, I am used to staying home. Honestly not having to pretend to be happy while around other humans is amazing. I hate my job. I hate school. But I love them so much that I can’t stand myself. A perfect contradiction I know. But that is where I am right now. I am happy to be home and away from the world but I will it all the same.

I miss my co-workers. To the point that I have messaged my boss and a few others to check on them from time to time. I miss my fellow classmates. So much so that I wish there was a way to reach out. Zoom dinner date while we talk about Philosophy and how Socrates would have tots been a frat boy is given the chance. I miss my family and friends.

But by the grace of every deity, if given the chance to stay like this forever I would be grateful. I would welcome it with open arms and scream fuck y’all to the wind. Just me and my daughter, no school and no work. Yes please.

But, my reality makes it so I can not. I do not want this.

So there are days when things are good. I am “fun”(coughlamecough) mom. Singing and dancing while cleaning. Cooking meals and helping my kiddo with homework.you want to make some slime kid? I gotchu boo. Wanna jump on the bed? Fuck the neighbors, they know what we about! We will drown ourselves in laughter and not care about anyone else.

But there are also bad days.

Ones where I can not stop crying. When homework becomes a chore. When ignore the notifications from my daughters teaching asking if she has done her work. My house is a mess and the neighbors love me. My daughter has to fight the silence. Because mommy can not stand sounds. Everything hurts until it doesn’t. Ever tried to parent while feeling numb? As though someone else is living your life and you are playing third wheel to another’s reality. You, the voices, and the one who is in control. All fighting for recognition. With a child who is just to young to understand that not now means maybe next week sweety mommy is to busy fighting her demons.

I have gone a few days without realizing anything. A few hours where I can’t recall what I have done.

This pandemic has been a life saver in some ways. Allowing me to relax and give into my inner desire to stay away from the world.

But it has also been much like the beginning of every disaster movie. Only this one doesn’t end with a love interest and a white fence blocking out the burning city.

What time to be alive.

Please check out this fellow blogger who shared her story and inspired me to write me own. Also feel free to share you own experience while parenting (or aunting and uncleing, or cousining or sibling…ing… ok I’ll stop) during all that is going on.

Blog in question is Grieving Out loud. Thank you so much for sharing your story about mothering through the pandemic. While are experiences are vastly different in many ways I enjoy what you wrote. Seriously, I adore just about everything you write.

Posted by Zeannaroux on

I am sick. No, not that sick. A different kind that makes it hard to sleep at night. The one that makes it so opening my door and walking outside is suddenly a chore. This is my normal but was easily worked past as long as I had a goal in mind.

Now, I am goalless.

There is nothing keeping me from venturing to the outside. Aside from my mind of course. But it is enough. There is a barrier now and I am to afraid to do anything about it.

I am sick. I feel like I am grieving a life that never was. I had just started living again. I had a job. I went to school. I had reasons. But now they are gone and I do not remember their flavor anymore.

A part of me doesn’t care. I crave solitude in a way that makes my heart hurt. It is beautiful, truly, but it isn’t enough.

My mother is sick as well, but not in the way you think. She told me so other day as they hooked up IVs along her arms. “Dehydrated” they said, before sending her on her own with some paid meds, “just give it to weeks”.

I don’t think that plays a part in my illness. Frankly, I do not think I feel enough to understand. I should feel pain but instead I am empty. Current events suggest that I am just going through the motions. But I think I left some part of me behind.

Another Update cause I can

Posted by Zeannaroux on

Welcome to the musing of an extremely petty poet.

I have had a lot of new followers and am actually starting to get a lot of repeats as well. Still not a lot of comments but I am ok with that. Just wanted to let everyone know, if you all haven’t noticed already, I am a terrible speller. And *spoiler alert* my grammar is even worse. So feel free to judge to your hearts content lol. I have had some people tell me that it is ok but it is something I struggle with and want to work on. I do not do it before I post my work but when I go back I like to edit a few things here and there. Change up a line or two to help it flow better. But if you see some mistake that doesn’t look intentional just comment and let me know. I will not get upset…ok I will get upset if said person only commenter just to tell me what I am doing wrong.

I am a single mom who struggles with BPD. I made this blog first to hone my writing skills but later on I wanted to show what it was like to live with a mental disorder. My poems and little story tell about my life and that of my daughter. Sometimes I can be angry, happy, sad, depression, excited and even, you guessed it, petty. I enjoy each and every person who takes the time to like and read my work. There is not a lot of information out there that paints people with BPD in a neutral light. Most information seeks to vilify us. Well I am here to tell ya that we are just as human as you are. We make mistakes and successes. My poems go a long way into proving that. Because some of my pieces are downright holy while others sound like the musing of a very edgy teen going through puberty. You get no in between with me really 🤣.

So I thank you and say welcome to all the new faces. I am sorry for the mess and look forward to learning from you all.

When the sky talks back

Posted by Zeannaroux on

I have lost a lot of blood

taken away by those I love

they show they care by beating me bare

putting salt into the wounds

wishful words of contempt

smiles tell me what they truly meant

Say they love me

Say they care

Say that no matter what they will be here

Lies and Slander from thine Queen

Bringing me pleasure from the wipes sting

I crave the sky when it sings

as it blames me for being me

Angels fly on high

With pitch fork wings

just hoping that I die

I love the sound of the singing sky

It reminds me of why I am alive

Why I go on when inside I have died

Because when all is said and done

I know that I am loved by my only son

My little one in the sky

despite the pain

despite the hate

despite that smiles I am supposed to fake

There is someone who cares

Down here it may hurt to feel

I may be judged and hated without fear

I may have the world trying to break me

but way up high

passed the fake angels in the sky

there lies a soul full of love

there lays someone who will never let go

Down here people blame me

they hate me for things I did not know

they pelt me with bloody rocks

then are ask me to forgive

show me words filled with venom

then say they are my friend

I so love when the sky sings

It reminds me of better thing.

That despite all this there is someone who loves

Someone who forgives

Up past the false angels with their pitch black wings

There is someone who loves me and all of my sins.

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The loss of a child is a powerful, traumatic event that many people have sadly gone through. As a single mother to one I feel for them greatly. No matter in what way this child is loss the pain can linger with the families till they take their very last breath.

For all those lost Fly High Little Ones. Your families love you very much. Thank you for watching over them as they go about life.