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Perversely Pleased — 5 Comments

  1. *waves* I’m still listening, and I’m here! For what it’s worth, it really helps reading your entries. Sometimes I feel like the only one in the world who feels a certain way, so it’s nice to see I’m not alone. *hugs*

    • *hugs back* Indeed, I’m glad to have a partner in the ‘brains suck’ department. Though obviously, I prefer neither of us had to deal with this crap!

  2. Hey Raeyn,
    Just letting you know I’m listening. I belong to AA because I tended to self medicate. I get so much from listening that I sometimes forget to thank the speaker for what he/she said that touched me. (and I’m right in the same room for heavens sake) So to remember to let you know you’re being heard takes even more action and that, as you know can be difficult at times. I will say that my AA meetings are an opportunity to hold myself accountable for doing what I say I’m going to do and not blowing it off because I’m feeling down. I always feel better when I get out and talk with other AAs, no matter how much I didn’t want to go.

    I’ve pasted in something I wrote a while back. You can share with whom ever you like all I ask is that you give me the attribution for the work. I hope you enjoy it. Well, enjoy might be the wrong word, but you know what I mean.

    Bi-Polar Daze and Nights

    Looking around I see an endless maze of caverns. Voices are bouncing off the uneven surfaces all around me. How did I get in here?

    Following the sound of the voices over the craggy edges of the rock I search for a way out. Loose stones tumble over the edge and sweat pools in my ears. I’m moving closer and further away from the voices simultaneously.

    The sensation of being watched through a one-way mirror embeds itself into my brain. The back of my hand smears the sweat across my face—momentarily clearing my vision. Voices, those damn voices. Why are they yelling at me?

    I don’t want to talk to anyone. Why don’t they leave me alone? I could find my way out of here if they would just go away.

    “Be quiet for Christ sake! Can’t you see I don’t want to talk?” The voices persist in taunting me still. I’m feeling very alone in spite them.

    My feet get tangled up with a rock outcropping and the next thing I know I’m snacking on a limestone sandwich. The coppery taste of blood fills my mouth. Looking around from my new vantage point I see an eerie light falling across the cavern.

    “Shut up!”

    Where is the light coming from? I should follow the light. The light will lead me out of this hell. If only these voices would stop. I can’t concentrate.

    “Shut the fuck up. I can’t hear myself think.”

    Crawling along slowly, looking for the source of the light, I’m no closer to finding a way out of this tunnel of doom.

    I stop and press my hands against the side of my head causing the voices to become even louder. In a panic I open my eyes. I’m sitting in our car, parked in a small pool of shade in a shopping center. People are pushing carts out to their cars loaded with groceries.

    Can’t they hear the God Damn voices? What’s wrong with them? Sweat pours into my eyes and it looks like all these fools are now under water with their groceries. Another voice, this one is closer, more insistent than the others.

    “Did you take your pills today?” she asks.

    “I can’t remember if I took them or not.”

    My wife backs the car out.

    “I bit the inside of my cheek,” I tell her.

    “Are you okay?” she asked. I’m taking you home, I’ll finish the errands tomorrow.”

    “I’ll be okay. I just need a nap. I haven’t been sleeping.”

    At home I reach into the cabinet and pull out my weekly pill containers. There are pills in the Friday and Saturday spots. I look at my cell phone for the day. It’s Sunday. I take a handful of medications and an extra sleeping pill and I head off to bed with the knowledge that the voices will be reduced to murmuring background noise soon.

    When I awake my anger and fear will be greatly reduced and I’ll feel human again. Struggling with the resentment of having to always be on my A game. Taking my meds. Getting enough sleep. Always perfect—or the full moon will come out, and my teeth will grow into fangs. I’ll snarl and growl at everyone who cares about me. I’ll turn into something and someone I don’t like.

    So today I take my meds and get to bed on time and try not to get into the whole self pity mode that always seems to preclude the full moon that I have come to dread.

    Dave Benneman

    • Hi Dave!

      I’ve not forgotten you; I’ve just not been able to get my brain to stay in place long enough to read through your posting. I will say that I used to go to NA with my parents as a teenager, because it was like a church one could smoke and drink coffee in (which is the preferred option for many teens, ha ha).

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