Manic Depression - Blog Posts

notes app poetry for the sad girls

2 Siblings One Disease

My little brother and I have both, at different times and for different breakdowns, been diagnosed with manic depression.

There are many different types of manic depression, and like most of the mental health diagnoses you hear about often/are sensationalized by the media, the crossover for diagnostics can be huge.

I went home to visit my mom briefly last week, and out of the blue, she turns to me and asks, “Do you think your brother has autism?”

And I felt myself dissociate almost instantly, because I’d wondered the same thing about myself many times, and here my mother was, casually asking the same thing of my brother.

My brother’s been in and out of serious trouble his whole life - terrible movie about mental health type trouble - like drugs, gang activity, shoot-outs, the law. I, on the other hand, hold a high-level management job at just 24. Though my outbursts are certainly significant, they occur in containment. There’s only two and a half years between us, but at times that feels like an ocean.

He’s moved across the country now, and we hardly talk. And I can’t help but be jealous. For me, being “bipolar” is a trap both mentally and physically; I’m tethered to my disease in my mind and tethered to the burden of my Normal Face in the real world, both of which have kept me from doing what I want in my life.

In other ways, I’m grateful that I was able to keep my disease from multiplying into thousands of demons, millions of extra pounds to carry around as his did. 

My blouse is stained

I haven't changed it since yesterday

Not stained with dirt

But the tears that you steer

Till I'm broken and can't see clear

Are you satisfied?

Stuck on my phone

its getting late

And my eyes a sore

From the bright light, it emits

Like my burning desire for all of this to end

I can't fall asleep

I won't fall asleep again to your voice

Or dream of you again

Will you hold me like a child

Till the thunder quiets done

Till the darkness becomes light

It's Sunday but its still not the end of my pain

You're stained in my heart

I'm bleeding out on my blouse

Again.

Dear Guardian Angel,

My gums are bleeding

I still haven't eaten

Do you pity me?

Please don't

I do this to myself

I self sabotage when things get better and act like it's the end of the world

I dug my own grave

Do you feel anything at all…

You were assigned to me

I'm sorry

My observer

For all the things you've seen

For all my thoughts you hear

For all the words I utter

And still I hope you can see that this is not truly me

I am is whatever I've seen on tv

I'm a chameleon

I put on a new mask and change it when it cracks

I'm lost

Who am I?

I’m gone

Or am I just done

Sitting with my thoughts alone

In this empty home

Father ignores and mothers on the other side of the world

I'm sure you already know

I mean you know me better than me

Stuck in my apocalypse

Hollow, dark, empty, incomplete, disguised, loveless

Distorted with the painful echo of my screams and cries.

Begging for an escape from my capturer

Me.