Riding along nerve endings to arrive at anxious beginnings. Tension mounts as a defense from a very real imaginary enemy. Invisible intruder that is intensely involved at sparing the sparks from what could be versus what should be. This parking lot is filled with employees called emptiness. This spot or that. Either course calls relaxing a weakness. Worry more when there is nothing to worry about. Stress is the blessing of not getting caught off guard. But being on duty perpetually causes the need for more rest. The security guard looks dead with sleepiness. Can’t Rest In Peace while living. Do the dead forget how to defend? Are the graves the only sleep without interruption?
When the path to the end seems so short and full of traps. When the chemicals do a dance off balance. When anxious thinking becomes the new sleep. There you will find rest. Therein lies the trap of cognitive dissonance which is a permanent apartment. The rent is too high but all checks are written to me. I don’t have enough capital to pay the rent this month to myself. How will I come up with rent? How will I pay myself what I owe? I hope that I don’t kick me out of my own building for not paying. This makes me nervous. Better go talk to the landlord about a deal. I will ask to live here again for the first time. Perhaps I will be permitted to stay within, and without the cost of today’s anxiety.
I hope I don’t ask to live in this apartment complex for free. If I do then many will occupy without asking. More rooms will be utilized for wrong reasons. The sign on the mind says no vacancy. Still eyes can see the rooms are vastly empty. Sort of empty. There are many occupants. They do laundry by hand in order to ring them out. They watch TVs that have no power as not to interrupt the imagination. They talk out loud to the landlord who is not far away. He hears everything. He knows who lives inside. How dead they are. The landlord is getting worried that he will lose all his occupants. Where will the sign go that says “no vacancy” when that happens? It will happen! Then what?
Cash comes and flows frequently through ideas like a funnel leaving a scented trail. Like drinking water slightly salted, more money spent leaves one spent. Energy like capital drains down pipes with a bottomless pit. Difficult to see how it works or where the path leads. Still feeling the hunger to eat more play dough that was hidden in childhood. Shaped like real satisfaction but no ability to alter chemical responses nor nourish growth towards freedom.
Still with each penny in the pocket and each pocket with a nickel minus three cents I leave two. Money like time can be spent but can not edify beyond the abstract. Time is the currency but currently I have little time to find a solution. I will spend time for money and most spend money for time yet, the accounts draw down without accountability. So I utilize energy to find the time to earn money that will drain into an empty pit. Then, when all is spent, the change is two cents.
Not a diagnosis but a reality for me. Planning to speak of survival techniques but can not recall at all the fall into mental traps. Woke up and asked where am I. Several minutes passed before remembering where I was. This is the day I say to the psych how things are seen to me. Totally dropped the ball and forgot in office about the events just prior. The morning of the visit, amnesia. In the visit, could not recall the incident or much at all. At home in the place of awakening in fear, is where it all comes roaring back to mind. Next appointment is a month away. All of this will be as last months information now, gone. Over time, the life of survival becomes normal. So normal that only the extreme receives attention. The rest slowly drips into the sea of forgetfulness. Especially on days of appointments. Days when memories are supposed to be friends and visit for support. Memories, ironically, are much more than strangers on days when needed the most. Those dreaded days called appointments.
This is where I will be until moods change or money vanishes.
Having fun finally. Too bad I can’t borrow more money to have more fun. Wait! I just got an idea! If you know me and read this, then the money I asked you for was really for research! Just not as you suppose, I am studying how losing money helps me find happiness! Just a phase? Maybe, but definitely better than depression. At least for now.
Too many details to see the big picture. Every piece in the box has been accounted for. First the corners, then the frame. Stare at the box and wonder how all the parts will finally emerge to coherence. If they will, I should say. Now we have a problem. Seeing clearly what should be. Having all the pieces of what could be. Still too many parts to put together. Contemplating the finality with the frustration of incoherent assemblies of the answer in front of me.
Other puzzles have become works of masterpieces hung by pride and laminated with confidence. This potential mess on my mind continues to count to 10,000. Or is it 5,000? Not sure anymore of how many. Perhaps something is missing due to the frequent flailing of fits called mania. Maybe I have too many pieces due to so many experts giving advice without a license. Maybe it’s just enough but all jumbled from the poles swinging like a tether ball on a playground. Wait! Hurry up and wait! I have to put this together or I won’t get to play again. It’s a picture of a ground with poles and laughter. It’s a place of competition and companionship. It’s a place that I see but I can’t find because of all the pieces. I have all the pieces but that’s the problem. The problem plays in front of me as the solution that refuses to come together. Together like a string, tethered to a ball, swinging from a pole, on my box.
One day blends into another. Evening is the same as the morning but with experience of the sun. Seasons break up into weeks as the months get the credit for the passing. Watches have the illusion of stopping on stop clocks. A moment frozen like a picture without a frame. Is time the friend or enemy? Should it wish to speed up or slow down the path of movement. How can someone do time? All they say is one day at a time? Worst advice ever! I will do years at a moments notice. Plans for 5 even 10 years down the line in a second of time. These plans are to prosper and be in health even as my soul prospers. I hope time slows down only enough to catch a glimpse of its address. Seems to elude me every time. Next time I will be ready. I will be ready with a stop watch. I will watch for time in the moment and take a picture without a frame. The frame of time is the fallacy.
Energy rushes like the river of heat through sweet serenity causing movements money to flee so secretly. Where is the bottom line of this river of mine? How much does mania cost when the water runs on dry feet in desperate need of moisture. Each purchase becomes sharp edges on dry land begging to be stepped on like visible land mines in the living room. This voice of the wind that says “Why” was no where felt! Much less heard. Must bury the new devices deep under floor boards in hopes that they disappear and never ignite. Who can afford an explosion when there is no running water in the extinguisher outside. At least, I don’t think there is water out there. But what if there is? It is getting hot again. How fun would it be to cool off for just a few moments. Where is that wrench that the water brought in? Under the destroyed floor boards. No matter, I can fix this non living room with water from the extinguisher! Yes! This will work! Stay tuned.
Energized darkness. Pressing the gas, in a car stuck in neutral, in a garage, with the door down. Tired but not sleepy. Fatigued but wide awake. Ideas galore but lack of energy in store to even start one. Memories of ability while reality screams breaking news of chemical incarceration. Unable to answer the common question of “How are you doing today?” Confusion for no apparent reason. Living in a fragile flesh that can tear at the slightest breeze. Dying to remember what feeling good felt like. Wondering how much snow will fall amid this mid-summer night. Thinking how ice melts from the radiant heat of heart fire and head pains. The worst of two worlds in one way of living with a mixed episode.
SSI should adopt a better model for communication. To send out threatening letters to unsuspecting and disabled people can not be the best way to get in touch. Who wants to open a letter, after doing nothing wrong, only to find that the funds may be cut if…Why not just send a friendly letter that explains things first? For example…
“Salutations valued recipient, we are writing to update our files and would enjoy speaking with you on …at … in the afternoon. Thanks for making time to help us help you. The information we will cover is as follows…The call will take less than 15 minutes and is necessary for us to ensure some details. This is a routine update and everyone will have an appointment at some time.”
Obviously I was being moderately sarcastic but the point remains, just ask! Threats are unnecessary and puts people on defense before the offense even happens. Perhaps their blanket threat letter can be used for those who missed calls or appointments as a last ditch effort. Knowing the blogs that I have read, no one wants to be threatened every time info is needed. Positive reinforcement still works. Many people on disability have anxiety disorders and those letters can cause a worsening of symptoms. Those fighting depression can fall deeper in that abyss of darkness at the smallest thing. Something like all of your income will be cut if….
Not professional at all SSI. We expect better. As a bit of advice, perhaps hire people persons for jobs that deal with people. Perhaps train people that they are talking to people who may be hanging onto life, so yelling and arguing about numbers, and demanding clear and concise thinking on call, is just not always possible. If it was, we would not be considered disabled. SSI remember the mission, of you have one. If not, I suggest something about helping people rather than saving pennies! Create another letter that doesn’t threaten people. Just ask, that’s what I am doing now. Just asking.
One word sentences are the best. They are very poetic to say the least. A definition of poetry is: saying the most, with the least, in the highest! What’s better than that? I say, mania is better. Hypomanic to be accurate but still it’s a natural high. Everything in the daytime is rose shaded. The nights are all green due to my natural night vision. Ok, that’s a bit much but who needs sleep anyway? Way too much life to live. Sleep is for the lazy or the depressed. Just kidding, but I slept enough last month for a whole month. Being tired is a sign that “sickness” is breaking with the dawn. Sickness being defined as brain fog, energized darkness, and fatigue. Yuck! As for now, it’s all about the reason for the season that I am in. Time to invest, start a new business, publish the book that was written 4 years ago and more.
Mania. Wow! What a word. What a feeling. What a life. I hope against hope that this time the mania will remain. Feeling normal like the rest of the non-polar world. This is the reward for the loss of time, money, and friends. This is the one word sentence that changes everything. This is the reason the medication bottles look so unnecessary. Let this end the way it all began. Manic, and loving it. Mania!