Late at night I ponder what it would be like to be on the road. Touring the countryside with a backpack and a camera. My who life spontaneous moving from one moment to the next with a shift of the breeze. I remember the heat of the fire as the embers died, the shiver up my spine as it bowed under a gentle caress. I smell the salt from the ocean and still bask in the ghosts of raindrops that sizzle off my sunburnt skin. Passionate nights, dramatic days. All left to the wings of chance and s pocket full of dreams. I lose myself in these moments, letting my soul flourish in the fanciful future of an unwritten tale. A noise soft a sweet hits my ears and I’m pulled back to the present. Soft snuffling sounds of the angels I helped love into this world. I pull them closer into my arms, our hearts carrying the same soft beat and put those stories away for another day. One where I take pen to paper an write of my adventures if past and the journey that led me to exactly where I am happy to be right now.
I start this with the classic words of a song known to most 90’s kids. Yet I look up the definition of irony and unless she was going for the synonym of sarcasm…this song miserably failed…
And if you can follow my thinking (which most people can’t , it’s ok) I think about the Leo and Claire version of Romeo and Juliet. Now it was two houses devided, I would envision myself as the fabulous Mercutio, but I’m more than like Paul Rudd in the astronaut costume (yes it was him, imdb it if you don’t believe).
So a love fast and true being split by two house trouble (now I’m the houses). Only, death shall bring together, but neither shall take the poison or dagger because the houses miraculously come to some conclusion because they were raised up with Jewish guilt. (Yes I totally changed the ending).
I am torn my lovlies. Part of me loves him so much to break my steadfast rule (which I’ve learned in group, it’s ok to set boundaries and say no),the snarky part of me wants to walk up and say “Shoes on the other foot now Cinderella, how does it feel?!”.
I am trying to be mindful and let the snarky parts float away like balloons. (I loathe minfulness). But both are now feeling the agony I have felt for weeks (insert Chris Pine singing Agony…makes it better)
It’s a double edged blade really. Either way it cuts. And in the long term who knows what’s going to happpen. So do I bite my thumb at thee? Or do I go out in full glamourus style?
Yes this may or may NOT be the prologue to Shaye’s tale
“What are you doing?” my brow furrowed as he first turned his gaze and then his entire body away from me.
I was met with silence, that cold ring of silence that makes you uncomfortable and anxious all at the same time. I stared at the ceiling and tapped my fingers together wondering if I was going to get an answer from him.
We had been in a lull between tours and we had just another few weeks before we went on the road again. There had been talks of separate buses, because who wants to deal with a weepy Oliver when he can’t see the baby. I didn’t even know if the entire family was coming along this time. The last month long tour we did on the west coast we were ramped and it just blew.
There was a crack in my ceiling; I idly made it into various shapes as he still was silent. I knew he wasn’t dead, how morbid of a thought, because he was still breathing. And he wasn’t snoring so he wasn’t asleep. He was just waiting. Just fucking waiting. For what? I didn’t know. I had nothing left to apologize for. I tried to make amends for my past, for being distant, for not wanting to jump his bones every five seconds, hell I apologized for not making the bed the other day. But it wasn’t enough.
I took a deep breath “Baby, why did you turn away from me?”
“Because I needed to, because sometimes I don’t even think you realize that you aren’t a person anymore.”
I winced, sighed and let my head drop. “Alright, if that’s how you feel.”
I slipped out of the bed, feet hitting the cold stone of the floor, and quickly yanked on a pair of yoga pants and a sport tank and headed off to the kitchen. I almost expected him to follow me. I knew he wouldn’t, when he gets like this he never does. I half hoped that the guys were coming over to snag him for a rehearsal today. As the coffeemaker began to drip I scooped my hair into a ponytail on the top of my head. He called me pebbles when I did that, not that he had done that lately. I glanced around at the quaint stone cottage and made a face at the boxes I had yet to unpack.
I just didn’t have the strength or energy lately, honestly all I wanted during this break was to rest and spend time with Eric. But my time with him kept leading to these petty fights and I just, I just didn’t know what to do. He’s so logical and I’m so not. I’m spontaneous and he’s organized. I love clutter and he, well he can’t leave dishes in the sink overnight.
Adding some coffee to my sugar and cream I plopped down in my oversized armchair and flipped the lid open to the box closest to me. Pulling a manila envelope out of the top, I frowned because I didn’t remember when or how that got there. I opened it slowly and placing my coffee on the table next to me, reached in tentatively. It was full of pictures.
I pulled them out one by one, studying each and every detail. Some were from even before we hit it big. Way before. Some were from high school, HIGH SCHOOL. When my hair we all kinds of curious colors, and there was smiles on all of our faces. Each of the pictures as they fell into my lap brought back memories I hadn’t had in so long. Some bad and some good but each had lyrics and poems attached to them. I knew what I had to do to get out of this funk. I grabbed my pone and loaded up a bunch of songs and stood up letting the pictures flutter to the floor.
I hastily wrote a note and left it on the table:
Went for a run to clear my head. Technology free day, soon as I come home. Yes I have it on me, and my knife and my pepper spray.
Placing my ear buds in, I stretched my legs out and headed out the door of my small stone fortress, and out into the woods. Taking in a deep breath of that green fresh mountain air I began to slowly jog, losing myself in my memories.
The first of many books I stated, let me know what you think
This is NOT a love story! And what I mean by that is that this is some mushy gushy story about love triangles, about some guy or girl shaped my world or any of that nonsense. Though if I really think about it those aspects are in there. However, this is NOT a love story. I will not let you categorize it as such, much like Disney categorized Frozen as a sisters story when it WAS a love story. This, at least I think is more of a suspense thriller, but most people would disagree…Granted most people can’t see inside my brain. Hell I can’t even see inside my brain. Ok off track here a little bit. Anyway, now that we are clear what this isn’t, let me tell you what this is.
This is MY story; yeah get your chuckles out now. I know what most of you think of me, even some hell probably some of those who I’ve chatted up in the grocery store line. I know what you’re thinking. And no, I am not a conspiracy theorist or any of that nonsense, I just know what mask I where when and how people judge me in relation t such. Hell, I’ve burned some of those masks years ago and people still remember them. They are seared so hotly into people’s brains that I will never be who I am today but always who I used to be. So, this is a story without the mask, or at least I hope I can be brilliant honest and make it through. This is the story I should have typed a thousand times in a thousand different ways and I didn’t…
I have a lot of good excuses why I didn’t, but nothing that really gets me out of it. I have 5 fucking stories on my computer, 5! And they each have at least 2 chapters…One of them even had a PROLIGUE! And they are genuine stories that I hope to finish someday, but I can’t put my heart back in the place it was when I was writing them, does that make sense? Ok so by now you know that in person I have many masks, I make a lot of excuses and totally judge books (and movies) by their cover (and tag lines…see first paragraph). Let’s add to the stack shall we? I often go off on tangents that no one can follow (be prepared), I can be very sexual and potty mouthed, and sometimes I just out and out lie…Granted I think it’s more of a retelling of the story in a more fanciful fashion but when push comes to shove, I lie. If you have to ask why at this point I would tell you because I like to. See I told you a suspense thriller would be more my story.
So here I am baring my soul, to the world. Or at least I hope to. In this story that is not about love, though there is love in it. A story full of stories, full of unheard truths and confessions. Maybe I’m repenting for some bad shit I did in a past life, but all I got from all the oogie boogies down in New Orleans where that something really bad happened in a past life but they couldn’t tell me. I think I am writing my story because it is time, or that I am running out of time. No I am not suicidal, I am literally running out of time, I was supposed to write 50,000 words by the month of December and as of right now my word count is 607. I think if I can pound out 50,000 words in two days I would be incredible proud of myself but incredibly worn out. But I made a promise to someone in New Orleans that I would finish a book by the beginning of this year and I broke that promise. I hate breaking promises. So now it’s time to promise myself I will finally finish what I have started. For once in my life have something to look back on and say hey you…look at that, not only do you make beautiful kids, bake a mean apple pies and have a gay harem that puts the world to shame…but you wrote a fucken book. Go team you.
Now that I have gotten a minor introduction out of the way I guess we should start with my childhood right? I don’t have a lot of memories as a kid, but I have flashes of them, if that makes sense. I look through photo albums and I know faces and names and not a lot of details. Every once in a while a very clear memory will pop up in there and I will blurt it out, but those memories are so sporadic, sometimes I wish they would either stay or go away completely.
I’m serious, it is a legitimate question to ask. You can answer for any of your really strong drugs that keep you balanced. My Valium is bright orange. It is the color you see when you go to the drug store and buy waxy earplugs or those really gross circus peanuts that people seem to enjoy.
Bright Orange. I suppose that it is supposed to maybe cheer me up. Make me feel like taking them it a-ok. Most of my pills, if you lay them out, are brightly colored. That is one of the reasons you know, that they say to keep them away from kiddos. I’m getting off the topic here, but there is a reason for that too. And that reason is exactly why I curious about the color of your Valium.
I have never really talked about my bipolar before but it is something that has come up a lot more recently. My switch seems to be getting flipped a lot more easily. I wake up this morning, I’m excited to start my day….well mostly, I have the kids ask the neighbor if they can walk with him to the bus because I haven’t changed and the color air hurts my soul. But most of all because I really don’t want to leave this house. I never want to leave the house.
So I woke up in a good mood, woke Charming up in a silly way and the kids. I sat down on the couch with Louise and pulled a blanket over me. (This is after the kids left and I still have not been able to get Charming out of bed) I have a huge cup of hot cocoa, that doesn’t taste as good as when Charming makes it but I know he is running late, so I don’t bother him. I have an appointment for OT and PT consults starting at 1015, it’s only 845 ish.
I take morning meds, meds that have a bit to keep down my depression but do nothing for my manic (those ones are bright blue!) and watch one of my fave shows as I get dressed and I put my contacts in. The show ends I am fully dressed…except my keys. I begin to search.
I search and search and search. Everywhere they should be, under everything. I start to panic. The switch starts to flip. I am running around the house frantically looking for my keys which I can not find. I call Charming, I cry about my keys, I snap at him for taking the wrong car, I apologize, I hang up.
Out of breath, I call the doc’s office to reschedule the appointments. I send Charming an apology text and now the house begins to waver. So not only is my snowball rolling down the hill of disasterville but it’s getting harder to stand. So I curl up on Louise, nest down into a blanket and open that bottle of joy, swallowing my dosage of happiness.
It takes a while to work but the placebo effect kicks in as it always does and I know I am going to be ok. I fell asleep and woke up indifferent. Not happy not sad but back to meh. That’s what sucks about having a mental disorder and a personality disorder. You never know who is going to win the fight when you wake up from something you perceive as bad.
When you crash emotionally and you don’t know what is going to happen. when you have trains of thought that go five billion miles per hour and in thirteen million different ways. You wake up and you are either the squirrel from”Over the Hedge” or Eeyore. You are either a drill sergeant getting everyone ready and doing your daughters hair all fancy. Or you are really wishing you were healthy enough to homeschool because then you wouldn’t have to leave the house.
You have this manic energy to clean the entire house, and after a few minutes, your body gives up on you. You collapse on the floor in tears because you just want things to be good. You want to make everything ok again. You want to feel useful but your body doesn’t want you to help. So you nest into yourself and become defensive.
Or worse, you just don’t care, about anything. you sit there and nothing’s going to make you care. You haven’t gotten validation from the people you feel you need it from. So instead of using your words, you just are emotionless. Or you are mean and push people away. Or at least, you try to. But there is always one person that won’t go away, and you have a love/hate relationship with that. it’s more that you love them and hate yourself. Because you don’t have the words to tell them what’s going on in your brain. Because you don’t know what’s going on in your brain.
So there you have it. At least, I think I summed up the bipolar thing rather well. And I even threw in a little borderline in there for ya… When it comes to having any illness that requires pills you sit there and wish for it to be over you count the days till you can stop taking pills and feel better. But, there are days that I look at those very bright pills in my hand, take a deep breath, ignore the tears welling up in my eyes and swallow all those brightly colored pills in my hand.
Because no matter how many days I count, you can’t get rid of what I have.
I can’t tell you that the past 2 weeks have been anything other than full of ER visits, therapy appointments, doctor appointments, helping out at a triathlon and getting my first article published. So first things first…1 I didn’t have a stroke, which is fantastic! It was a complex migraine which felt like a stroke. Either way it sucked. My boys doc changed his meds around and we will see if that changes his attitude. Other than that…the pixie doesn’t listen, at all. She has quite a weird streak going on and I don’t know how to break her of it. Charming did a three stooges routine all by himself while holding a canoe and ending up getting hurt (he didn’t do it on purpose).
And I got my first piece published on a platform that is larger than this one. I am so blessed that I have all you dedicated followers, you are the reason that I have continued to write, the reason I have been able to open up about my life, my mental health and the things that ail me. So on that note…
If you get the chance, while you are in your morning routine, give this a read. I wrote this from the heart and am trying to share it with the world. I keep receiving messages about this article touching lives and that makes my heart soar. So give it a few moment of your time and then pay it foward.