Living with and overcoming Bipolar and Borderline Personality Disorder
A word I’ve been telling others my entire life,
To save face and not cause strife.
Even if I am sure I am right,
“Sorry!” I’ll say to avoid a fight.
Even though sorry is just a word,
Out of your mouth it will never be heard.
With me “Sorry!” Goes a long way.
It is something you”ll never say,
Jill L. Ware
Sometimes what life gives us is hard to take. One moves on, the other plans death by lake.
From others my feelings becoming detached, Ruined friendships that will never be patched.
Bad behaviors are they hers or are they mine? I wish her to leave I’ve drawn the line.
She comes out of me when I can’t find the words to say. Good thing, I was walking into traffic to play,
I cry, I am tired of the world today. She says whiney bitch get out of the way.
Often seen with a shake and a slur, is it me or is it her?
If she thinks I am being used, you are next to be abused.
When she plays I don’t have a clue, is it me or is it you?
My advice is stay away from Jill number one and two.
Jill L. Ware
Always making flight the choice for me, I’d stay if they’d let me be.
Tell me what to do and see what occurs, this is my life, not yours.
Tending to bullying I never do, I fear confrontation, no matter who.
Never making decision so I don’t get sick, too late now I have some ass to kick.
Pick a number get in line, after I’ve let you have it I will be fine.
When I am manic I talk big and bad, most of the time I’m just sad.
No specific reason why, every 10 years I wish to die.
I haven’t been me for a very long time, how do I regain a life that’s mine?
My companion gone nearly 2 years now, I managed thus far not knowing how.
I didn’t say I managed well, life since has been hell.
They say Love is patient, it is not always kind.
Jill L. Ware
I saw you yesterday, in this game with you I play.
Keeping my distance so you don’t see, it is way past time to let it be.
I make sure not to cross the line, the game not yours but mine.
My schemes planned days ahead, our relationship a long time dead.
To get your approval I tried for years, my love for life reduced to tears.
The words you said I hear as if yesterday, you had no clue in my head they’d stay.
I look in the mirror as I become skin and bones, my self esteem someone else owns.
It doesn’t matter large or small, I’m not sure you loved me at all.
I pray one day to adapt a love for me, maybe then there will be no fear of letting you see. I’ll know there is nothing wrong with me.
How do you know when you are over medicated? Do your doctors collaborate on your treatment of various illnessesWith that she took me off the Rituxan drip. I left that visit Dumbfounded. I had no idea RA could go into remission the following visit the rheumatologist replaced the reduction with a different drug. I did not understand why I needed the new drug if my RA was in remission. Doctor says it is maintenance to keep it in The stage. My psychiatric meds aren’t much better. I take several psych meds and disorder pills. He prescribes one and adjust another. Five separate medication‘s to treat my several mood disorders.
Over the years I’ve had many grandparents raising grandkids frequent my place of employment. Have always had respect for them. Until recently, I had no idea how exhausting and stressful it could be. My son and his wife went on a four-day vacation and I stayed with the three kids. It was absolutely exhausting. The minute my butt cheeks hit the couch. There was one screaming “grandma come here”. The meals, laundry, baths and picking up never ends. What I’m getting at is that if you see grandparents raising grandkids, pat them on the back. I only did it for four days, and was ready to lose my sanity.
You’d think with all the medications I am on that it would keep my moods under control. My thoughts lately I’ve kept myself. Needless to say, most of them are mean. I refuse to let them escape me.
I roll all these thoughts around in my head day and night. The conversations I’ve had with loved ones playing in my head. I picked them apart, one by one to decipher their meaning. The only change my doctor has made with my meds is swapping my Wellbutrin at night for olanzapine.
The doctor did this because he was seeing symptoms of paranoia in me. There is paranoia in my family genetics, the doctor actually a couple doctors have told me they think my pot smoking is causing several illnesses in me. I had never heard anything so stupid. I asked if I should quit for a few weeks and see. She said full results of quitting wouldn’t show for six months. I decided to do my research on the subject. In some cases by quitting, the issues fix themselves, and when the person starts back symptoms return.
I am sick of not thinking right. I started my pot free life five days ago. I pray that it fixes some of the wrong thinking. Also a few other things as well.
I could use some encouragement or advice. I haven’t blogged in quite some time. If I blog more often, it would probably benefit me. I’ve been in the state of “if you can’t say anything nice don’t say anything at all”. I have been hiding from society, I don’t like the monster in me.
A time to vent is difficult to find,
Thoughts held captive by my mind.
Some things are better left unsaid,
As chaos rolls about in my head.
For years I’ve searched for the key,
As of yet nothing works for me.
A prisoner I feel to this disease,
Self control I use so no one sees.
Inside I feel like I’m a mess,
Forever wishing I’d worry less.
Coping skills I have a few,
They factor into everything I do.
From this prison I wish to be released,
No one cares even the least.
If I am quiet there is a reason why,
My thoughts make me a not nice guy.
Jill L. Ware
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