All day staring at the ceiling
Making friends with shadows on my wall
All night hearing voices telling me
That I should get some sleep
Because tomorrow might be good for something
Hold on
Feeling like I'm headed for a breakdown
And I don't know why
But I'm not crazy, I'm just a little unwell
I know right now you can't tell
But stay awhile and maybe then you'll see
A different side of me
I'm not crazy, I'm just a little impaired
I know right now you don't care
But soon enough you're gonna think of me
And how I used to be
It seems that
medication is a double-edged sword. The pain and confusion that comes with
unmedicated mental illness is swept away with a regimen of chemicals into the
brain. Unfortunately, with the symptoms also go the magic and wonder that comes
with seeing the beauty in a seemingly crystal clear manic state. Clarity is gone, hidden under the haze of
medicated lethargy.
It is difficult.
Creativity is stifled. I used to get awards for my writing. I used to be
praised. All of my teachers in school told my parents that I would be a famous
author one day. I scored a 2200 on the SAT. I am a certifiable genius. I could
have joined MENSA. But every day that I pop those psychotropic drugs, the
foggier my mind becomes. It is my burden. It is my curse. If I want to create
and live as carefree as when I was young, I could go off of the medications. But
at what cost? To lose my ability to be patient and teach my young daughter? To
lose every interpersonal relationship I have? To lose the ability to work and
provide for myself – an ability that is even still fought for every day with my
sweat and tears?
There are no easy
solutions for a bipolar person. For a pagan, it is even more painful. While we
may find peace the light of the moon or with our respective deities, our spirit
guides, our totem animals, our sense of duty to be good to ourselves and those
things that are ours is pivotal to our spiritual development. As a Goddess
worshiper, I am acutely aware of my failings as I cycle into the Mother phase
of my life. I simultaneously pine for the past and my Maiden stage as I crave
and hunger for the knowledge that will lead me into success as a woman in my Crone stage. There is no
easy way. The sooner the bipolar pagan learns this, the better.
When I was young, I was
a wild child
Sunshine, grass stains,
mud piles
Skinning my knee was a
battle scar
I was afraid of
monsters, but not the dark
With the dawn, I’d run
so far
Exploring every secret
place, every park
Today I choke and gasp
for air
Seeking magick everywhere
Only duty to hold me
down
I will die without a
sound.
"WildChild" Copyright 2013 - Heather Rivero
**Lyrics From"Unwell" by Matchbox 20
