writing as a form of therapy

[bipolarbunny]

@greenpea Lots of love n hugs Pea, hope you are doing better my lovely friend. xxx

BB 🐰❤️

[greenpea]

@bipolarbunny  thank you BB it has been a better week. So fingers crossed it lasts. I like the colder sunny weather. I am a snap frozen pea and like the weather that way :D.xx

[greenpea]

@HenryX  Hey HenryX I see you there 😄 I hope you are doing well too xx

[Dimity]

I'm so thankful for your voice @bipolarbunny. It's a gift you're sharing. I lost my capacity for inner narrative when on 150% the recommended maximum of an antidepressant. I was having a little weep before you posted "Never give up" the other night. Please keep writing. Ì still struggle for words but appreciate poetry all the more. 

[Shaz51]

Wonderful  poem @bipolarbunny 😀❤

[bipolarbunny]

@Dimity I'm so glad you can find comfort in my verse. I'm so sorry the meds have silenced your inner narrative. That's a fear of mine, that I will no longer be able to write when I'm fully medicated. It's such a positive therapy for me to be able to make sense of what runs about my head through poetry. I know I write prolifically when I'm unwell, I don't write as often when I'm well but the themes change depending on my mood. I'm not sure if the chaos drives it, sometimes I'll write and not even remember doing so. My tdoc has been a wonderful influence. He challenges me with "poetic assignments" almost every session. When I started I don't think either of us realised the impact it would have on my recovery. 
If you ever decide to give your thoughts a voice, just grab a pen and write. Whatever comes into your head. As long as it comes from inside you, it will be your truth and that can can be incredibly empowering and freeing. big hugs xxx

BB 🐰❤️

[bipolarbunny]

Very early on in my sessions with my tdoc. We got to talking about what I liked. I mentioned that I had some bonsai a long time ago and that I was always fascinated by Asian gardens and so he suggested why don't I keep a little Japanese garden in my room. "Buy a bonsai, or ten", were his words I believe, lol. So after that session I went out and bought a little bonsai tree and that night I wrote a little poem about "Ping". 

My Little Bonsai

My little bonsai, sitting in a pot,

Trim here, tie there, twist in a knot,

Limbs so eloquent reaching for hope,

To save my soul from a slippery slope.

My little bonsai, cute as can be,

Move here, flow there, zen to a T,

Lovingly shaped with a delicate feel,

Restores my world with balance & zeal.

My little bonsai, larger than life,

Prune here, mist there, save me from strife,

Growing so strong with elegant grace,

Always bringing a smile to my face.

My little bonsai, token of peace,

Breathe here, sigh there, stressors release,

Embrace my room with an aura of light,

Protect me from the darkness at night.

My little bonsai, miniature tree,

Mind here, thoughts there, feelings set free,

Small but mighty, always stand tall,

My little bonsai, symbol for all.

© BB - 29 Oct 2020

This is Ping, who is a Ping Juniper. He's grown quite a bit since this pic was taken. I need to get him a brother, maybe a Japanese Maple 🙂 xx BB 🐰❤️

[Appleblossom]

Wonderful @bipolarbunny  Wordless.

[bipolarbunny]

@Appleblossom  hugs xx

BB 🐰❤️

[bipolarbunny]

Yeah, it's been a rough month. Very thankful I can write it out and crack open some light. Warning, this one is pretty raw. 
BB 🐰💙

Wretched

This wretched illness, grief en masse,
Has wedged apart a deep crevasse,
Of sorrow, anger, guilt and shame,
Encased inside this swathe of pain.

This wretched life, I sabotage,
Is shrouded by a dark mirage,
Engulfed by storms that plague my soul,
I fall into an empty hole.

This wretched night, I just want out,
I cannot breathe, I cannot shout,
This rage that boils within my throat,
Is aggravating every note.

This wretched noise, inside my head,
Has opened all the wounds I’ve bled,
I want to scream, I want to cry,
There’s part of me that wants to die.

This wretched feeling in my heart,
Has ripped my very soul apart,
The panic that consumes my mind,
Has found a vicious axe to grind.

This wretched voice, that won’t shut up,
Echoes inside it’s empty cup,
The rhetoric of sullen verse,
Is simply just my toxic curse.

This wretched prose, that paves the way,
For me to have one final say,
Has left me short of joy to spread,
I’m trapped inside my wretched head.

© BB – 10 April 2021