Standing in the forest
The scrubby brush nearby nearly engulfs me, surrounds me, wants to pull me down
The arms of the trees reach upwards, always upwards
Too close, the gases choke my breath, some perfuméd, some sick with death
…
We wait
…
The doors open
much jostling, not a word
the trees move onward, outward, rushing ever rushing upwards
to make room for more
rebuilding the forest under the ground
There is hope here, and beauty as well.
There must be – I can’t believe otherwise.
I must believe better things are here.
I must.
I observe the hard-felt faces
of those pressed ’round my plight
They see nought of what I was
just that which they can take.
My dashéd hopes return with nothing
as if nought had ever been.
When was that moment
that sliver of time
that deciding breakpoint
when we, as narrator above this all,
would say
“This, my friends“
(as we would say in hushéd tone)
…was the moment it all fell down“
Floods of people
spilling over the smelly grimy greasy ground.
Gingerly stepping ’round the rubbish
left behind by fellow travellers.
How to see beauty in all this?
This path sickens me.
Yet here I must remain
a drop in the flood of men.
This pain is new;
the fire still stings my heart.
Where then shall I go?
The ones who should listen will not hear me
My grief echoes theirs; building up their dull tormént.
Hear then, mine ear, my cry, my fall –
my release, if but a while.
Scrambled egg
2 Sausage Links
2 Fried Tomato Halves
Cup of water
£2.76
Their eyes are all I see
All else, reverts to black
And then, not even then
would I peer into those holes.
My gaze averts to dirt and ground
to halt a breach of peace.
From above, a booming, thunderous crash
– the thump-thump-thump of hell
What, perchance?
Missiles, war, angry angels?
No –
’tis the ungainly strides
of the looming folk o’erhead.
My sleep – it is unwell.
For to ask of those in higher places
to tread less heavily
I fear their wrath to chase.
Nay, tonight my sleep shall break anew
Whilst above, large feet will tread.
We all can hear the train
it calls
The rails sing its approach
it calls
The crowd, it moves to see
it calls
…the train come out to feed
it calls
It cries for me to leap
it calls
O not today, o train, I say
it calls it calls it calls
An early morning journey led me down a new path.
It was new to me but not new to the erosion of time.
It was on this path that I glanced down to see the rat.
It wasn’t a particularly engaging rat; he (or she, as it may have been) appeared rather largish, but otherwise was most ordinary in rat-like respects.
The thing that jumped out at me was that this rat, unlike others I’ve heard in the walls at night, was dead.
Dead and bleached to a whitish-grey colour with time and exposure.
“Now,” I said to myself, as I was alone (with the exception of the dead, decaying rat, and one does not speak in public to such things, for fear of being labelled as a lunatic) “now why would no one clean up this rat?”
Then I looked about more closely, and saw that the rat fit in well with the decor of the rest of the neighbourhood.
It will be a long time before I pass that way again, I pray.
My Heart is gone.
Is it safe? Will I find it again?
If my Heart makes its way back to me, will I recognise it?
I pray to God to Whom we pledged our Hearts would beat as One
…that we would be made whole again.
re: Why I think God put us together
Hi Jessi,
If he’s anything like me, and you like my wife, he is so much appreciative of your passion for life and the power with which you live it. That includes not only the peaks of your mood swings, but the successes you’ve had in learning more about yourself and the compassion he has for you when you aren’t as successful in managing the swings as you would have liked to be.
She’s brought insights to me that I would never have thought on my own. That I think is a part of a natural pairing of two friends but in this case I must work harder than any other friendship; not because it’s a hardship but because this is a precious and wonderful gift put into my life.
We goof around about her being my Kirk to her Spock. Although at times it’s rather more like Laurel and Hardy 😉
(To the support group)
re: My Info
It’s good to have support, to share and to learn. I’m finding this is a place where many people can do all three .
Thank you for the comments! I certainly want to help and to receive help any way I can.
As for sticking around, heh heh it takes a lot to get rid of me. Sorry but you all are stuck with me 😀
Replying to my own post, after a year of experience behind us…
Funny I should have noted here that “Routine is her anathema, the one thing in her life that creates more havoc than anything else”.
Also funny that I’ve noted in a response I sent today to another’s post that “Holidays break daily and weekly routines so her manic swings are strong on any given holiday”.
So which is it?
Honestly I can’t tell and I won’t pretend to be clever enough to come up with an answer tonight.
It’s just interesting to see that these two are true statements.
I think in time it will make sense.
But she’s still radiantly beautiful in my heart and mind’s eye.
Also could read:
Here be Dragons
Many things have/will have happened between the previous post and the next.
It was an absolutely stunning morning in sunny Bournemouth, England. Then again, most of them are.
This was just one particularly memorable day.
It wasn’t because of the brisk morning clear air. Nor was it because of the unique scent of sea breeze rushing past, carrying with it the omnipresent gulls and occasional songbird.
No, it wasn’t because of the sight of brick buildings that make England o so England, nor the windy, curvy, hilly streets that barely equal the width of a sidewalk in downtown Houston, Texas.
Neither was it the smells of the food wafting from the open shop doors as I walked my way past them to the work shuttle waiting area.
It certainly was not because of the sounds of people quietly but busily murmuring in many many different languages as they selected their breakfasts and the occasional biscuit or packet of cigarettes, and as they picked up one or two of many many many options with regards to printed news.
Those were just the wonderfully ordinary, usual experiences one would encounter on a normal morning in Bournemouth.
What captured my attention was something that was out of place in this calm but bustling place.
Something that seemed to stop time for a spell, and blotted out all sounds save one, while thoughts raced through my head…
Shouting. Girl.
Young girl running.
Hair flailing in the wind, arms raised
Panic.
Man. Large man
Man running after the girl.
My heart beats in time with her panic
Help her
But I’m a foreigner in a strange land
Confrontation. Deportation.
Me with no income? My kids with no money.
Girl shouts again.
Man still running
Girl running quickly. Not as fast as man.
What will happen when he catches her?
Decision. Make it now.
I have kids to take care of.
Ugh.
If this were MY kid being chased, what would I do?
Who would help then?
Ugh.
Decision made.
I run.
Wait, I see more.
I stop.
I laugh.
Heart pounds, then calms… but the chuckle and laughter continues for awhile. Other sounds of the world slowly fade back into focus. Color comes back to a momentarily-bleached background of people, buildings, trees, and birds.
That particular morning was very very memorable not so much of the man chasing the girl, nor even the girl herself really. What stands out in my mind was what I didn’t see from my original viewpoint.
Viewpoints are important. They kind of define what we think, since we use the input from our various senses to help make decisions.
In this case, after my viewpoint was adjusted a little when I stepped forward to help what seemed to be a dire situation, I could see the full picture.
The man was indeed running.
The girl was indeed running.
The girl was indeed shouting in a panic.
She was not shouting because she feared the man.
The man was probably not even aware of the girl.
They were both running because of what I didn’t see.
I didn’t see the bus they were both chasing, and for which she was shouting.
It was indeed a memorable day in Bournemouth.
Well here we are again.
Bournemouth, this time!
(to the support group)
re: Intro post, some history, and many thanks (long)
As my wife does not take medication we rely on behavior modification to handle the mood swings. This works so far and over the years she’s been more aware of how to see and modify thoughts that lead to a wild swing.
The only thing that makes this possible is her desire to change a process that doesn’t work. I pray your husband will get this desire in his heart and deep in his spirit.
I’ve found in my wife’s case that indulging the high part of the “upswing” and pandering to the bottom of the “downswing” amplifies the bad behavior pattern while acting as a brake during those times is helping to guide her. But it’s soo hard and many times I don’t have the patience so it’s a concious effort on my part here too.
I think the most frustrating thing is being called either “boring” or “too lighthearted” depending on her perception of me when I’m simply maintaining a neutral state. I think sometimes she simply can’t remember how she felt about me on a prior mood swing from one time to the next. Maybe it’s like looking at those red/blue 3D glasses with one eye or the other and trying to sort things out, I can only guess.
I don’t know if any of my rambling helps, I try not to give advice but I do share what works and what doesn’t for us. Please know though that my heart goes out to you and your family.
John Nonymous
Hiya, thanks for visiting my “My Page” page.
I sincerely hope you don’t take offense at a lack of “real” information here or in my profile. It’s not to be tricky or deceiving; it’s to protect my wife, who suffers from bipolar disorder symptoms.
She and I both perform independent internet searches to better understand this condition. We talk to each other about what we know and have learned but going into details like which sites we’ve visited or whom we’ve had discussions can cause a rapid mood swing in her. I don’t know why, I just know it is.
My part in this is discussion board is just like any one else’s – to vent, to encourage, to dream, to hope. Should my lovely stumble across this board then I pray she sees the respect and love I have for her throughout my postings. When you see your own issues in print for others to see, posted by your most trusted one, it’s very very very difficult to see the love in the words. Hence my ‘Nonymous moniker. I don’t doubt she will recognize me as we know each other so well, but not identifying who I am or what part of the world I live in will make it easier for her to accept my contributions here.
I love my wife so much and want to learn with her how to make our lives more stable. Our children also need to understand this issue and how it will impact them now and forever, and how to live with and love people in all they do. It is a noble aspiration but one very definitely worth aiming for.
Myself, I’m a writer by trade. Not a wordsmith in the form of books or magazines or articles, but a codemonkey, a scripter. A software developer. My coding is in text format, and it oddly enough resembles geometrically-designed poetry when done correctly. And, in the line of work I’m in, I’ve drafted a number of emails (erhm, probably hundreds of thousands of them) and more than a few reference documents, so putting thoughts into writing comes easily for me.
That’s it for now, need to post this now or it will never get on the board. I’ll add more later, maybe not here exactly but the sum of my postings will yield more on who I am and my family I represent.
Thanks for visiting and learning about who I am.