Writing As A Form Of Therapy

[Former-Member]

My world is spinning on pretty much the same axis it has all year @Silenus. I guess I'm not digging so much just now but trying to process what I've discovered from previous digs. Your post inspired me that the processing what you've found is just as important as the dig- I'm guessing that's one chapter in the future for you. I was feeling lost this morning before I read your post.
I'm so glad you are through the depression phase and have much to look forward to and be excited by currently. Take care @Silenus. Looking forward to the next chapter what ever that may be💜🤗

[Silenus]

Very true @Former-Member

After the dig, a good archaeologist will carefully take the findings or remains back to the lab... brushing away the dirt and rock to reveal the detail underneath...

The good archaeologist will look at this artefact from the past, turn it this way and that... study it... date it... measure it... compare it with other artefacts from previous digs...

Thank you Teej... a valuable insightful nudge to inspire more writings in this chapter... hugs... 🙂

[Silenus]

Hypomania

Hypomania hits, and your feet don't touch the ground,
Even though life's reality is all just ground and pound;
So here you are floating, above the messy world,
Delighting in the pleasures of your wings at last unfurled.

Do you connect with mere mortals down there in the dust?
Sorry, no you don't, you follow the soaring as you must;
This compulsive connection with all and everyone,
Some peeps take drugs to play pretends, but to us that's just half done.

Truth told we need some drugs to keep us on our way,
To stop those damn brain chemicals from holding kooky sway;
We need to be in a state to think to ever think at all,
And then to come to truths that start Truth's rolling ball.

Truth's wrecking ball wreaks its havoc on all most peeps think real,
And then begins the real journey to both control and enjoy what we feel;
Dark pain and dark pasts, haunting our days to nights,
Never a moment with your team in the corner of this unending fight.

But Truth's wrecking ball swings forward and it swings back,
And you find yourself making up for the things before you lacked;
Just as sure Truth's ball comes back to break more supposed truth,
Those boring hurtful patterns laid down hard in your youngest youth.

I'm so high, so high above the world, the great wall is lost,
I count a trillion things in instants but can never count the cost;
At once I love everyone deeply truly as if they were a part of me,
But the hypomania keeps on soaring, ever wild and free.

When I get like this, I'm floating out in deepest darkest space,
No person ever imagined soaring this far away from the whole human race;
I soar above the gods, casting my shadow on their meanness,
Then I lose interest and test my wings in ever-higher reaching keenness.

What's a planet... a star... a galaxy... a universe... a multiverse... a panoply of infinite timelines,
What's natural human pattern recognition, projecting onto chaos a whole bunch of signs;
It's okay, I feel it now, the wax it begins to wane,
My natural cycle is ridden, now I will try to be sane.

[Silenus]

Do You Feel Sad?

Do you feel sad when you realise that you are the last person alive with a particular memory... what will happen to this poor memory when you pass... who will be left to mourn its passing... who will be left to mourn yours... do you feel sad when a loved one dies or a relationship ends... where does the sad come from...where does your sad go when you die...

[Silenus]

Free

I walked out of the church and blew out all the candles,
I dropped all of my baggage and tore off all the handles,
I lit up my passports and watched them sizzle and burn away,
These made up human borders will one day lose their sway,
I stood in a queue and withdrew all my money from the bank,
I burned up every single note, it's all just a useless wank.

No religion, no stuff, no nationality, no money, no ID,
With lighter steps I walk away, the freest of the free.

[Silenus]

See

See, I got these problems with my mental health,

In an uncaring world, people only care about their wealth;

But I care, and that's what drives me insane,

Unrequited love for the human race messing up my brain.

Monumental suffering as billions do without,

Our obscene society whitewashes guilt with a pout;

Now I see this painful truth as obvious as day,

And everyone ignoring it won't make it go away.

Soccer moms and drinking dads, filling life with fluff,

And here am I saying "Stop the distraction! Enough is enough!"

Acknowledge the problems and let's all get to work,

Problems don't fix themselves while watching Miley twerk.

Consumer culture killed the world, so let's all buy a thing,

Even love's for sale, because you've gotta buy that ring;

All this disposable useless stuff you all are buying,

None of you challenge it; you're not even trying.

Everyone is peddling hate and fear, that's what you're consuming,

It's not far from here to Zyclon B getting all the showers fuming;

History ignored, so let's put the playlist on endless repeat,

Sit back and watch it all play out; "Hey, this is neat!"

"But we couldn't do a thing to stop it" is so often said,

And Pilate's hands are dipped in water to get rid of the red;

There are lots of fixes to our problems, if obstructors got out of the way,

We are all responsible for this mess, and now it's time to pay.

But no, alas, the crap remains, and cynical politicians vie for your vote,

Far be it for us to share, as we turn back another boat;

We like our greed, it's ours to feed and make it ever greater,

Morality left decades ago with a wave and a "See you later".

See, I got these problems with my mental health,

In an uncaring world, people only care about their wealth;

But I care, and that's what drives me insane,

Unrequited love for the human race messing up my brain.

[PeppiPatty]

So @Silenus like the poem : 

its about a lot of things. Can you write a poem on how you feel :

like hate the condition love the person similar to how Pontious Pilate may have felt about Jesus Christ? 

I Love that. 

[Silenus]

On Hypomania and the Senses

I wrote the whole world a new one today...

One of the most amazing parts of my hypomania in this phase of my bipolar cycle is when the hypomania makes me much more sensitive and open to sensation... my senses come alive!!!

Seeing is sharper, more aware... eyesight is clear... details are more focused... colours and textures are more vibrant... depth perception has more depth to it...

Hearing is sharper, more aware... sounds I normally never hear, flood in... I hear and appreciate music so very differently... I get goosebumps from sounds, especially in music, during these heightened hypomanic weeks and months...

Tasting is sharper, more aware... tastes become a true delight... every mouthful a flavour explosion... a delightful melange of tastes intermingling... red wine is purest Ambrosia from the gods on high during these times...

Smelling is sharper, more aware... smells flood in... the bad, the good, the sublime, all a delight... these aromas, everywhere, ever firing the memories into chaotic vibrant life within my skull... the smell of burnt toast... POW!!! The memory of the first few days in Australia as an 8 year old, unable to speak a word of English, smelling burnt toast for the first time in his life...

And then we come to the final of our five senses...

Feeling is sharper, more aware... nerve signals and stuff... just as with the other senses, it becomes more sensitive and alive... at no other time during my life do I ever feel my pain as keenly than at these heightened hypomanic times...

Brain and body are one... physical pain sparks emotional pain, and then the inner storms begin in earnest...

The memory storms, the thought storms, the mood storms... these are a response to the heightened state of all of my senses, flooding my brain with ever more detail... the thoughts race faster as the brain floods itself with unusually high levels of biochemicals and hormones, kicking into ever higher gears...

No wonder we are driven to excess, by all of this internal excess...

The oversensitisation and overstimulation of the senses continues, until the pain of my hypermobile limbs exhausts me so much that my body flips the off switch... forced by my physical self to stop, I am left with the racing of my mind and all that boundless energy I cannot physically express or channel...

And so, I write...

I think my mad thoughts and write my mad words, and slowly write myself sane...

[Silenus]

The ability to compartmentalise is the secret to survival... put that shit in a box... survive... open the box later and deal with it when you are able...

Wrap the box up with fancy paper and ribbons... add a bit of spectacle to life... then, when it's time to open up that box and deal with the contents, pretend you're a kid at Christmas time... rip the wrapping off excitedly and tear into that box... there are toys inside for you to play with...

[BlueBay]

This morning:

As I lay awake in bed

i hold onto my dreary head

my fists are tight i cannot feel

the pain I'm in is not sitting still

My face is wet from all the tears

I'm holding on to so many fears

If only I could just let it go

Then I'll be able to say no

The night is rough without a sleep

I could hear every murmur and beep

I don't want another tablet she says

But then again who really cares

The pain I'm in is hard to say

for that little girl just wants to play

instead she was touched and touched again

why she didn't even have a friend

I close my eyes and all I see

is what you have done to me

I try to wipe away my tears

and out comes all the fears

And now i sit and the sun is out

But why do I have this doubt

I don't why I wrote this today

I guess it's just another day