Livin' Mi Vida Loca

Mom of 1, Polar of 2, Want to die in 3

[tiredbipolarbear]

My choices are yours too

I had to give my daughter a lecture because she couldn't understand.

It was all serious and quiet.

Tears streamed down our cheeks when I said,

"I'm sorry, this is all I could give you right now."

To which she answered,

"I'm sorry I made wrong choices."

I felt the sincerity and echoed her statement.

"I'm sorry I made lots of wrong choices."

[tiredbipolarbear]

Shrapnels of a love lost

Nights happily spent talking -

Dreams, hopes, and even favorites,

Has turned into contemplating alone -

Nightmares, dread, and slitting wrists.

My, my, what a transformation.

I'm seated here with a cocktail in hand

Blaming myself for the loss.

My, my, the amount of memories we shared

how our souls were constantly bared.

The kisses were my testament to my undying love.

The caresses were my walls crumbling brick by brick.

The tears I shed were all my muscles contracting to save you, us, me.

The years we spent together have come to an end,

I can't say that there are regrets.

Only shrapnels of happiness are embedded in me

From the bullets, I had to take for you and us.

I'm laying myself to rest, clutching the shrapnel.

Thank you.

[tiredbipolarbear]

Today, I chose chaos.

Being a mother of a six-year-old, I have come to realize a few bitter parenting truths that most people might not agree with.

Streaming platforms are nothing compared to cable TV. The rush of waiting for the exact moment your favorite show comes on is incomparable to pressing play on demand. Despite the generational comparison, learning your show's schedule and trying to finish everything you need to do just so you can watch teaches determination and patience.

From becoming an extension of parenthood, the devices inevitably will take over the game. Back in 2017, until just a few hours ago, I would give my daughter screentime so I could work in peace. I would reassure myself, "At least they're not making a mess." When my daughter chose to get spanked (which I did not do), I realized that the iPad I got her for the holidays had completely taken over her. Despite the nuances of children's messes, it is their nature to make some. Our job is to equip them with the skills to clean it on their own.

I was starting to fail as a parent until I wasn't. There was a podcast episode I was listening to a few months back where an expert said "The best type of parenting is one that involves a parent." While the context might have been different (as they were talking about different types of parenting), I agree. If I could be there, physically, mentally, or emotionally - even just one of those - that's already a step towards being the best parent I could be.

To my daughter,

I am sorry for being by your side, but not.

I am sorry for choosing to be a provider but neglecting my responsibilities as a mom.

I am sorry for bringing you to your classes, but also bringing my laptop with me so I could work while waiting.

I am sorry for listening to you while keeping my eyes peeled on my screen.

Most importantly, I am sorry it took me almost seven years to hear your "I need you to come here please, mama."

[tiredbipolarbear]

Life lately

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!!!!!

[tiredbipolarbear]

From knowing to gnawing

Reaching out and pulling in, I sink deeper into this known abyss.

Some say that's what life does to you -

The ringing sound of your mundane life,

The itching feeling of desires,

The heat brought on by the pressure of success.

For a time, these feelings seem bearable.

The weight of it all gets heavier as the things you know increases.

From "this is heavy" to you out of breath, panting to catch it, heaving.

You go from learning and knowing to leaning towards the unknown, riddled with gnawing sensations of time.

[tiredbipolarbear]

My days with you look like this:

I wake up and check how you're doing,

Proceed to making coffee that you and I can drink,

Then, we go about our day - talking nonstop.

Thinking nonstop.

At night, I'd lie awake still thinking about you.

When everything seems so boring, I turn to you to spice things up.

Then, there are days like this:

Filled with doubts, anger and frustration taking over me.

Pondering on thoughts like "What if I didn't choose to be with you?"

While I love working in this industry, I encounter days/slumps/blocks and during these times, I feel like my love for my craft is unrequited. There are times where feelings of elation and ecstasy overtake - I feel like I can do anything, like my work can change the world.

I guess, I'll leave this unfinished for now.

[tiredbipolarbear]

Rhymes and Lies I Tell Myself (1)

They say wear your heart on your sleeve.

I say, "why bother? If everyone will eventually take it and just leave".

My grandmother tells me to take care of yourself,

Which I answer with "does getting by count?"

My daughter reminds me to choose to see the good things,

I scoff and mutter "my vision's messed up."

While I tend to laugh these off, I do take them to heart.

I share my life and my stories with people on a daily basis.

Taking care of myself is pretty much anything that makes me feel good -

coffee, nicotine, alcohol, and passive aggressiveness.

Every time I realize that this may or may not be all real,

My thoughts circle around these sentiments:

"I'm okay. I'm okay? I'm okay, right?"

"I'm glad I'm here, or am I?"

"Life's good...for now."

To which I consciously whisper:

"Yes, you're okay. You have a great job. Your daughter and dog love you."

"You should be glad you're here. Thirteen-year-old can only dream of where you are."

"Life may not be as good as you want, but life is as good as you need."

[tiredbipolarbear]

Of time-lapses and lapses of judgment

Flash back to a decade ago, I was the person who was terrified of being alone for reasons unimaginable, but within those reasons is the fear of never amounting to anything. Whether it was nature or nurture, it didn't matter. 17-year-old me would routinely film myself sleeping just so I could have some form of comfort, something that made me feel like "Okay, I look like a normal person who is sleeping. No big deal."

What you can see above is 17-year-old me taking antidepressants and muscle relaxants that would knock me out for 12 hours at a time. Inexistence of any emotion, senses going haywire - all because my body would be in a panic to try and make up for the lack of feeling. Despite that, there would be bursts of energy that would make me feel like I could do anything.

"Yes, this is my chance to prove something. I might actually turn out okay."

One small lapse of judgment that quickly turns to a mistake can make me spiral back to double dosing. Sleeping day and night, grades slipping, occasional beating, routinely thinking of just not being anything, consistently thinking of dying.

A decade ago, I anchored my happiness to one single person. A simple text could give me enough dopamine to keep me going.

A decade ago, people close to me were dying. Family, friends, and even pets.

That was the same time, I decided to leave the facade of comfort (aka my home). I ventured out into the world with nothing to my name and no one to call mine. I met people, left them, met more, and finally, I was able to learn how to cope.

Quit antidepressants cold turkey but quickly turned to other vices to keep the illusion of feeling full physically and mentally. As it turns out, I lived that lie I created for myself - "I was okay. I think."

Despite ignoring anyone's attempt to permeate this illusion I call life and consciously choosing films and books to fill my life with wonder, I was in the midst of what seemed to be the greatest thing in my life - physical fitness, seemingly healthy headspace, and most importantly, money to feed my demons (dolled up in guises of vices).

Here comes that lapse of judgment.

One faithful night after drinking, the strength to dive in headfirst and surrender to my carnal desires overcame whatever walls I have built my whole life. Nine months later, I gave birth.

Life, as I knew it, was either at a halt or was at speeds faster than light itself. It was filled with kicks, punches, exchanges of words; next thing I knew I was alone with a 2-year-old while working a highly demanding job.

"What now?"

"Screw it."

[tiredbipolarbear]

This, These, and Deceased

This

When all else fails, use this.

This that could make you believe in life,

This that could heal your wounds.

This that makes everything make so much sense.

This that clears away the doubts.

But, what is this?

Could this be love? Support? Or all the other "good" things that people talk about when they no longer have anything "nice" to say?

Or could this be the one-all, cure-all drug that is called "enlightenment"?

All this might sound absurd, dumb, or whatever other adjective you can think of, but this should work. Right?

These

These hands that keep you safe at night -

Were once filled with scars from fighting my demons.

These eyes that see beauty in all of you -

Cannot seem to see the beauty of the beholder.

These legs that would walk miles to make you smile -

Won't be able to bear the weight much longer.

Finally, these words that I type as my tears fall -

Won't suffice because while you mean the world to me,

The only thing I keep thinking of is how good your life would be without me.

Deceased

If all else fails, how do you tell such creature of innocence about death?

Do we say "they are now in heaven"?

How about "they are finally at peace"?

Or would "they have always loved you"?

Concealed behind these seemingly positive ways to talk about someone's passing are empty sentiments, what one will usually say when they don't bother articulating what death actually means.

If I were to phrase it, "They had a disease that kills every morsel of joy, hope, and light within them."

Maybe something like "Get over it, honey. It was never about you. You did nothing wrong."

What if we just say "Deceased. Time of death: a while ago. Cause: No one should ever know."

[tiredbipolarbear]

To be frank

There is a lot that comes with being a parent, there is more when you're bipolar too.

The yearning for time to pass quickly,

Yet feeling crippled seeing your daughter grow up so fast.

The exhaustion that you get from balancing your life and hers,

It almost feels like you're carrying fragile ceramics while walking on lava,

Yet the burst of energy your body somehow produces

Just. Because. You. Have. To.

To be frank, it's all so tiring.

Being pulled in different directions.

All. At. The. Same. Time.

Making ends meet.

No. Matter. What.

Breathing - inhale, exhale.

When all you want to do is drop dead.

In all honesty, no parent can just disappear

Leave no trace, no memories.

Because who made the children?

The parents.

What a life, this life.

What a joke is this existence of mine?

Am I even making any difference?

How I wish there was a way that I could escape,

Disappear temporarily,

Set with the sun.

[tiredbipolarbear]

The First & The Last

Writing, for me, has always been my first love and will probably be the last.

The first dream that I can actually make come true,

The last thing I will do.

Very much like finding out I'm going to be a mom at 20.

The first kick that made me want to jump off a building,

The last push that made it all finally sink in.

While I've had many lasts since then,

There have been more firsts.

That first punch where I just said "he's going to change",

That first realization I can't die just yet just because I have a daughter,

The first time my daughter used her whole hand to grasp my finger,

The first time my tears were on the verge of falling down because of actual fear for someone else's life.

Here's to reopening my tumblr account!