You must doubt it sometimes but I do love you,
I am in love with you and want to grow old with you.
I must feel like I’m miles away sometimes,
Blank faced and dull and not the girl you fell in love with.
All the passion has been hidden away in my head,
I wish I could share it with you but, I can’t find it myself.
My mood swings must scare and confuse you,
I’m either mute or talking a mile a minute.
Sometimes I don’t want you around and I feel guilty,
But then I don’t want to be around anyone.
I promise It’s not you and it’s not me either,
It’s a mental disorder which I am fighting, fighting for us.
I’m sorry that you have to share the pain of bipolar with me.
Jittering, jingling, jangling legs.
Always all a fluster.
Can’t calm, can’t relax.
Anxiety is always with me even when I think I’m calm.
My kids still don’t have their licenses, it’s all my fault.
Without licenses they can’t get jobs, without jobs they’ll have a harder time getting jobs after college.
Without jobs they’ll be living with me forever which isn’t too bad, for me, but, it’s awful for them.
What if they wind up getting college degrees and working at a movie theater?
What if they end up never leaving home and never finding love and never having children?
What if I am never a Grandma? And it’s all my fault. If only I had pushed them.
If only I had the strength to keep my head above water and push them.
It’s all my fault because I’m broken they don’t feel like they can bother me.
It’s all my fault because I let them see my damage.
I did what my Mother did to me, I made them feel like burdens.
When did I turn into my Mother?
Can I reverse this or are they just stuck on a path of mediocrity of my own making forever?
Please go away Mr. Postman,
I already have enough mail, thank you very much,
And my, aren’t those a lot of dead trees you’re carrying?
What good can possibly come in the mailbox?
Unless it’s my birthday or a holiday why bother checking?
It’s only going to be bad news. It’s only going to be a bill.
Not my normal every day bills, I pay those online,
A mystery bill, most likely from some hospital visit.
Shouldn’t my insurance handle such things?
If I open the mail I have to act and I don’t think I can,
So instead I stuff the mail in all the nooks and crannies.
Every corner of my house is overflowing with dead trees,
Dead trees telling me I owe someone something.
It isn’t that I can’t afford to pay it, it’s just that I can’t handle it.
It’s something about the physical form.
It doesn’t make any sense but, please don’t make me open the mail.
Imagine you’re a man, the manager of a young girl.
Your boss and bosses boss say, “let’s take her out for drinks.”
Your bosses boss is clearly flirting with this girl who you see every day.
Your bosses boss is clearly trying to get her drunk.
Your bosses boss announces the company is paying for hotel rooms all around.
You know this is a shady scene.
On the way to the hotel rooms this sweet girl who is falling down drunk asks you and your boss for help.
She is clearly not on board with joining your bosses boss in his hotel room.
What do you do? Do you think about how wrong this is but, decide to do nothing for the sake of your job?
Are you OK with this situation? The girl drank all the drinks your bosses boss bought her after all.
When in the end you laugh it off rather than do anything to help this poor girl, does it haunt you?
Do you have nightmares about that moment?
Do you worry about your own Daughter or Sister and hope that if they’re ever in that position help will be given when it is asked for?
Do you remember my face?
Or have you just forgotten it completely as another fun corporate outing?
I can change the World,
Go big or go home!
I’ll never buy anything in packaging that can’t be recycled again.
OK so I have to spend a bit more on eggs. That’s OK.
“No, I have my own bags.”
You peddler of plastic bags that suffocate our environment!
Hmm, Christmas time, is wrapping paper recyclable?
How can I tell if the packaging this will come in is recyclable?
I can’t not buy gifts but, I’m going to be adding non biodegradable trash to the World.
I can’t change the World.
There’s always something that can’t be recycled.
Always lurking, hidden in plain sight.
Who was I kidding?
I can’t change the World.
I can’t even get out of bed.
Focus only on your breath.
Clear your mind.
But, if my mind is empty what will drown out those thoughts?
The thoughts that bring me right back to the worst moments of my life.
The many men I’ve known, not all by choice,
And how I asked for help that night.
Words uttered in a police station by someone I love,
It hurts to remember.
So much for relaxation.
Now to learn to breathe again.
The Night Before She Quit
Sleazy VP 20 years her senior,
buying her drinks all night,
of course he expects something.
She asks for help from his subordinates, her bosses,
but they only chuckle at the silly, drunk girl they employ.
He gets what he wants.