Bipolar Disorder, Creative Writing, Depression, Life, Mental Health, Mental Illness, Mood Disorder, Poetry

STRENGTH AND SWEETNESS

She’s strength and sweetness.

She’s a warrior,
Her bones are inked in resilience.

She’s a demigod,
Her small existence is astounding.

She’s a paradox,
Her weakness is her strength.

She’s majesty,
Her soul is royalty.

She doesn’t soar the skies,
Yet her wings are by no means,
Less than the eagle’s…

She plods, she ponders,
Some days,
She simply persists.

In silence she battles,
And in despair she remembers, love.

She gathers all that is left of yesterday,
Her glitchy mind, her patchwork heart,
Her sharp edges, her missing parts,
Everything.

She soothes her frayed heart,
Hoodwinks her demons,
Clothes her agony in grace,
Hones her brave spirit,
Feigns fresh hope,
And walks quietly into a new day.

Her emptiness still lingers,
Her pains still ache,
Her veins are weary,
Her smile is riddled with scars,
Yet she’s lit like a fire tall enough to lick the gates of heaven!

What a strong woman!
A woman made of staggering rebound!
A true reflection of a God!
The ultimate God soaked metaphor!

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Life, Mental Health, Mood Disorder

JOURNAL 20/2

Because paper is more patient than people.

Lately I’m humbled. Humbled by the many windows of grace; by my God who not only shows up but shows off too. By the emotional explosions that thrust me into the arms of that loving God.

I’m thankful for the tasteful and timeless music and my dancing feet.

I’m impressed by that empty bottle of antidepressants on the bedside that hasn’t left me feening for one more pill for the life of me. Six whole months later. And my stout-heartedness and criminal level of resilience through it all.

I’m stunned that I’m slowly becoming a vibrational match to my dreams. And that the unknown and the unseen seem to be cheering on.

I’m intrigued by this life that’s peopled with inspiration. By this one ardently sweet, indomitably good-natured person who thinks the same about me.

I’m awed by my sister who looks spookily like me but isn’t my twin. And especially by her stellar personality.

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Mental Health, Mood Disorder

GRATITUDE GALORE

Happy New Year everyone! It’s a chilly evening here in my neck of the woods!

My birthday was three weeks ago and I just got discharged from hospital one week ago so I’m a year wiser and stronger.

I’m nestled against the pillows as I type this, mellow and comfortable in the middle of my bipolar spectrum, with a clear state of mind, a calm soul and a revamped spirit. Last night I slept like a log and woke up to find this knackered dog curled up beside me at noon. Life is good, safe to say.

Looking back, I realise I grew up in this type of fishbowl existence where having my kind of chronic illness was the largest elephant in the room of health discussion. I heard people talk, I heard people stigmatise. So I figured that if people were going to say it about me anyway, I would say it first, because if I said it first, I would say it better. That is why I started this blog. Let it be known that exulansis does not live here at all.

Interestingly, when the world closes in with darkness and sin, I’m grateful for the myriads of blessings. Despite the depression, I’m blessed beyond imagination. Despite the soul rot, I’m blessed beyond imagination. Despite the speed bumps along my journey, I’m blessed beyond imagination.

Therefore today, in retrospect, I’m particularly grateful for:

God. The pillar of my astounding support system. For holding me while teetering between stoical and fervid. For carrying me during all reflection, transition and rebirth.

Myself. The self is divine. I feel like I had been a young girl of steel bright intelligence, but zero common sense. In other words. I had downplayed and underestimated my humanity and my femininity and their secret theatres of power and influence. I now look to act as a redeemed, empowered young woman and a daughter of philosophy and ethic. A legible wisdom of a grown woman, fearlessly navigating the turbulent waters of bipolarity. A grown woman of beautiful maps seldom left unread. A woman who is discontent with being the gold fish in a fishbowl when she has the capacity of a shark in the ocean. A woman who does not crinkle. A woman who knows her way around the minefield of self-actualization. A work in progress.

Music. Soulful music. For rap lyrics with wonderful emotional potency that resonate with me on a personal level. For the tasteful and timeless genre that is Ohangla. For its beautiful beats and for my dancing feet.

The sun and the wind. Even if I keep spending an unholy amount of time trying to make my hair tame only to step out and have the wind leaving me looking like a witch that just flew on her broom.

My doctor. For knowing how to help me stay on my cool. How to get me to stand ten toes down. How to whisper me out of fear and self-pity and put my soul back in my body, and ultimately my soul and my body all in that same recliner where sometimes he recounts a medical history that reeks of something like the voodoo incantations of a stark raving mad Haitian witch doctor.

Pens, paper pads and paperbacks. The readership, the blogosphere, the wordsmiths, the writers and the authors. Geniuses whose piercing words penetrate your heart and get plastered all over your soul. Clearly the revolution will not be televised but thank God for Ijeoma Umebinyuo!

My friend M. The queen of hugs and holding hands. An actual prodigy, a great listener, a top example and a quality friend.

My friend N. For answering every frantic call and text. For not having a single selfish bone in her body. For her superpower of keeping up with my monotonous rants.

My friend C. A real bond in a flawed world!

My friend H. The sunshine in my last memories of O’ Level.

My cousin BT. For his top tier personality.

My nephew Y. His smile also doubles as my medicine box.

My siblings B,B,B,B and B. Annoying, agitating, aggravating, nosey, caring, funny, determinated, intelligent and sweet. Whole bunch of goodness with a twist of wow and plenty of fun.

With gratitude I bow.

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