I went off my medicine for about a month, and can now honestly say it works. I'm'a get it refilled tomorrow and stick with it!
Keep praying. Struggles are daily, but so are victories.
(Originally written in 2007. Revised tonight. It still sucks.)
Missing a place I never belonged
has taken a toll on my heart.
I'd list the reasons, recall memories,
but don't know where to start.
As seasons pass, I find me
hidden in the leaves and dirt.
Summer sun makes my skin stronger
but cannot block out this hurt.
True friends are lost easily,
quickly that disappear.
Fewer lives are attached to mine
with the passing of each year.
I held a place in your heart,
but all beginnings must end:
the passing of an era,
the slow death of a trend.
You probably won't read this,
but I'll try not to mind.
We're not the kids we were before;
adult paths tend to wind.
The texts go unanswered;
the calls are ignored.
You say we're not compatible
as friends any more.
I'll love you like a sister
until the day I die.
All things are for the best.
Goodbye, lady. Goodbye.
As I contemplate starting a family of my own, I cannot help but to think about him:
my little man,
Big Bud's first,
our forever angel.
I think about how he would have been an amazing big brother, just like his daddy,
how his heart would be full of endless love, just like his mommy,
and how one smile from his sweet lips could warm his Mamaw's heart.
I think about you, Connor James, nearly every day that I wake with breath in my lungs, something you never got to experience.
I think about you playing with other babies in heaven, all taken by a disease that could have easily been stopped.
I think about you, how perfect you seemed in my arms.
I think about you and cry. I can't help it. Time hasn't healed much.
I wish I could teach you how to play baseball,
to watch your mama help you learn how fun it is to swim,
to hear you giggle when your daddy "gets you."
There are a million things we'll never do, but I remain jealous that you get to grow up with Jesus, yet sad that I didn't get to watch you grow.
So, I tried it. I obviously (and thankfully) failed, but it forced me to have to spend the weekend in Georgia Regional's mental hospital. What an eye opener! I met a lot of women just like me...and a lot of women much crazier than me. But I left with a sense of who I am, who I can be, and I think that I might have made some lives a little better. Please never cease praying for me. Bipolar disorder is a complicated monster, and it may take a while to figure out now to balance my unstable brain. Special thanks to Helen, Mama, Aunt Marilyn, and Aunt Donnie, whose visits and phone calls kept me (mostly) sane. I love each and every person who is reading this!
And I'm not ashamed to say it. I take on a lot. I am strong enough to take on a lot. But I am fragile. I break. And this weekend, I shattered. I have been diagnosed with Bipolar Disorder and Intermittent Explosive Disorder. You can call me crazy and treat me different if it makes you feel better, but I have a disease; it doesn't have me. I have come to realize that none of this is my fault. Or your fault. Or hers or his. I have a sick, unstable brain. I was born this way. But it will no longer control me, defeat me, and make me feel stupid.
I just need y'all to love me through it.
I am not an abomination. God loves me just as much as he loves any other sinner.
I am not a stupid dyke. You're an ignorant asshole.
I am not disgusting. I am insanely in love with a woman, not an animal or inanimate object.
I am not interested in anything you hypocrites have to say.
I am over it.