With You

Starting a new home

Never again, alone

Mind – blown

Draw me into bed

Release the thoughts from my head

Snuggling and holding tight

Pulling closer, throughout the night

Hitting snooze

Ignore the news

Bury myself in your chest

You seem to know me best

Your fingers glide across my arms

Feeling safe, no alarms

Releasing tears

Acknowledging fears

Growing and glowing

My love, always showing

There is no way of knowing

Where life is going

I just know

With you – I want to go



Living in Fear

So many changes and yet it all feels so familiar. I’m in a new relationship, but I feel like it’s been this way forever. I’m getting ready to move again. New apartment. New town. I’ve been in the same town for 10 years, so it’ll be nice to be somewhere new. It’s symbolic, a new beginning. A change. A chance at something new. I’m still stuck in my old ways, in many ways. I’m as lazy as ever. I was hoping I’d be more prepared to take on the world with my new guy. I’d want to explore more and do more. Instead, I find that I can’t keep up. I’m always tired. Some days I just want to lay in bed and do nothing at all.  I am afraid to step out of my comfort zone. I want something new, but I’m still scared sometimes. Afraid of meeting new people and trying to make friends. Afraid of failing. Afraid of not being enough. I’m never enough. I realize I have spent much of my life feeling inadequate. Not smart enough. Not pretty enough. Not rich enough. Not mature enough. I’ve struggled with the idea of being an adult. Of being responsible. I never quite felt like I was capable of living a normal life, of being a responsible adult. I always felt like I was “different” – somehow flawed. I let my insecurities keep me from trying new things, from exploring the world. Shit – I was afraid to drive to the city (Denver) until I was 23. I wouldn’t drive in the mountains until just a few weeks ago, and I’m a Colorado native. I get scared. I’m afraid of riding a bike. Now I have a new bike, and I want to give it a try, but I am scared. I am scared of hurting myself. I’m afraid of looking silly. I’m afraid of failing. Always afraid of failing. I wish I could be more carefree and adventurous. I’m always assuming the worst of myself. If I can fuck it up, I will. I’ll hurt myself. I’ll fall down. People will laugh at me and pity me. I’ll look stupid and clumsy. I’ll hurt myself. I’m so afraid of pain. Physical. Emotional. I try to avoid being uncomfortable at all costs. Ironically, that fear has cost me so much. Who would I be if I wasn’t afraid?

I’m Different

I feel different. Calm. Stable. Content. I have been identifying less with being “bipolar” lately. I’m sort of shrugging off the label and freeing myself from the stigma. Fuck it. I don’t need it. It doesn’t serve me. I always felt the diagnosis wasn’t quite right – I’ve never really struggled with depression and I have only had a few manic experiences, most notably in May 2013 when I was hospitalized for nearly a month. That episode involved psychosis. Prior to that I just had a few times when I felt more creative, or hyper for a period of time. I’m often asked if I’m afraid of a psychotic episode happening again. On the surface I do not feel fear. I don’t want to be afraid of myself or my mind. Lurking in the depths of my mind, I suppose I am somewhat scared. I am afraid of ending up in the hospital again. It was a traumatic experience that took months and months to recover from. It changed me forever. It’s a strange realization when you discover you are capable of violence, psychosis and that you can be unable to distinguish reality from fiction. Yet – it seems like something that is in the past for me. I’m aware this is typical “bipolar” talk and that everyone thinks this…then they end up back in the cycle and back in the hospital with an even worse episode. I know the tale. I know the wisdom, but I have to do what is right for me. I’m done with medication. I’m also aware that it is typical for people with bipolar to not want to take medication…and to end up worse than before. Yet, I feel fine. Not “good” – but actually stable and capable of living a normal life. I’m not manic or moody. I’m content. I’m giving it a try.


I’m also giving love a try. I’m trying my best give my love openly and without reservation. I love this man so very much. He is the person I always dreamed of and we seem to fit together seamlessly. I know it won’t always be smooth sailing, but I’m prepared to take on the storms of life with him. He is so brave and strong. He has the biggest heart I’ve ever known and his smile and laugh light up a room. Sometimes I just stare at him and can’t believe he is real. I think of him and I’m overcome with emotion and love. I wish I could forgot the trappings of adult life and just spend all day in bed cuddling, no words would need to be spoken. Just touch. Love.