Bipolar & the Seven Deadly Sins: A Manic Essay

The first panic attack I ever remembered having I think I was around twelve. The details of the triggers or the event itself are hazy. But, oh, how I remember my current ones. I lose time as if I’m outside myself. My brain a misfiring of billions of neurons, I recognize them for the way my skin feels. It’s like it’s not…mine. Foreign and cumbersome, almost like a cheap suit that’s too tight and the legs too short. Millions of bugs crawling beneath my skin. I pick, scratch, attempt to hurt myself for it to go away. It’s only when I skip my count, my prayer beads don’t spin as smoothly as I roll them between trembling thumb and forefinger that the rage starts.

Hallucinations form with the building crescendo of every labored breath—each more ragged and painful than the one before it. Time ceases and I’m frozen, skinning the flesh from my arm, setting myself on fire, removing fingers, and driving 100 miles per hour into oncoming traffic and it doesn’t stop. Seconds, minutes, maybe an hour goes by and I’m back, yet always a piece missing. I know I should feel terrified, no, horrified at what my mind devises for me. Yet I’m not.

Depression, Failing Self-Care & What's Left

It could be the holidays or just my usual mental state, but depression has been nipping at my heels for months. Several weeks ago, it sunk its teeth in and hasn’t let me go. I believe mental illness shouldn’t come with a stigma—some stupid reason we shouldn’t speak up.

As an Atheist, I’m not big on holidays or what they mean. Christianity pillaged pagans for their traditions, whatever, but it’s around this time everyone gets a bit down. We don’t have family to spend it with for whatever reason. It highlights our anti-social tendencies. Whatever it is, holidays just seem to exacerbate the shifting of our moods.

I don’t think that’s what has me down. Spending days in bed to awaken and just turn back over because I’m tired of existing. A week ago, I had to be taken by ambulance to the hospital, my panic attack didn’t come on with that annoying tightening of my chest and the bugs crawling beneath my skin. The nosebleed which isn’t a normal part of my attacks. It hit me like a sledgehammer and I had no way of controlling it. All the counting, visualization, none of it worked and I let others see the weakness.

On Turning 40, When You're Not Supposed To Be Here

Birthday are typically a time of celebration. Mine are more a moment of reflection. I'm not supposed to be here. I should've drawn in my last breath years ago. Milestones. A new year. A goal surpassed and a new one formed.

I found alcohol and drugs in my teens. They made me feel numb when all else was chaotic. They were my razor when I couldn't quite pull the metaphorical trigger. I had and still have a death wish, I won't deny it and will freely admit it. Death doesn't scare me and that may the most terrifying thing because we're supposed to have a healthy fear of being no more. I want to die. Not every day, but there are moments I just sit and wonder would the world be better without me in it.

On Days When Self-Care Seems Impossible #Bipolar #EverydayStruggle

This isn't a post as a cry for help, it's just things floating around in my head, and, well, I do have a blog, so here is today's bullshit.

For just one day I want...

1. Silence

I don't mean silence where I can turn a deaf hear to what is going on around me. The silence I require is the type where a particular pitch in someone's voice doesn't enrage me. The type where I can smile and not feel as if someone's laugh is pulling my skin so tight I can't breathe. Day in and day out, I spend my time with my jaw clenched and my fists tight to the point I have to shake them out to ease the tensed muscles. Noises of any kind seemingly harsher than necessary

Every day, I live with a rage so great I want nothing more than to put my fist through a wall. It's a struggle no amount of medicine, meditation, or coping mechanisms can ease. I'm just...angry.

#Preorder Lucky (Twirled World Ink 4) #GayRomance

LUCKY (TWIRLED WORLD INK 4)

RELEASE DATE: FEBRUARY 14, 2017

Blurb:

Welcome to Twirled World Ink where the crazies run the asylum.

When someone was asked to describe crazy, if they knew Lee “Lucky” Trenton they’d point at him. Accident prone and without a filter of any kind to tell him to shut up before he says something inappropriate he’s no one’s idea of a perfect partner. Growing up with parents who subscribed to a philosophy of Radical Honesty Lucky and his siblings were doomed from the womb. Lucky found a home away from home at Twirled World Ink, but he didn’t just find a place to belong. He’d found Priest.

Matthew “Priest” Beall ran away from his judgmental family the second he’d earned the money. He’d come in search of Gib Phelps a legend in the tattoo industry. If you wanted to learn the craft, then Gib was the man to beg an apprenticeship with, and he’d begged. Priest might have left the violence of his past behind, but when he closed his eyes it came back to torture him. The only place he felt safe was when his best friend Lucky let him sleep in his arms. He wanted more, but he didn’t think he deserved it.

Priest left his family behind without regret only to find a new one with the crew of Twirled World and the super weird Trenton family. Could he grab onto his new life or would the memories of the past ruin the happiness he’d gained?

I'm an Atheist Lesbian Who Writes Stuff

-Walks up to the podium and taps the mic- Hello, my name is J.M., I am an Atheist. I am a Lesbian. And I like to write stuff that a minority of people like.

-group- Hello, J.M.

-Someone in the back- Why, J.M., do you write Atheists? Do you hate religion?

Why? Thank fake Jesus you asked. The simple answer is because I can and no I don’t hate believers. I respect their right to believe in whatever but don’t trample on my lack of belief and the fact I openly write Atheists.

I’ve been a non-believer from the moment my parents thought, “Hey, wouldn't it be cool to contribute to the world's overpopulation?” I'm pretty sure I was a horrible accident though because I'm….me.

Mending The Broken Pieces

A friend wrote a post this morning and emailed it to me. After reading it, I didn’t feel worthy of the words she wrote. The thank you for holding her hand. I don’t even think I’d still be here without her. You see I’ve been suffering from one issue or another since my teens. A few months ago, I thought I was having a heart attack. I went to the hospital, tolerated the tests and the constant wake ups. One of my cardiac enzymes came back funky so they admitted me. To be honest, I’m not the healthiest person and I’m coming up on the big 4-0.