Monday, October 21, 2013

The Sound of Darkness

Crazy pill count:
AM 200 Lamictal, 30 Cymbalta, 5 Ativan, 10 Adderall
afternoon 10 Adderall
PM 300 Lamictal, 20 Zyprexa, .5 Ativan

I carry a morbid and painful secret.

No, silly, not the deodorant.
But I do recommend using deodorant.
pH that balance, ladies!

This is the kind of secret I keep in my heart. Not the kind I rub on my pits.

I have a "suicide song." I know that's both morbid and painful but that is my truth. My stripped down, dirty, naked truth is I have a particular song I listen to when I debate razor blades and jot down sloppy words and call it "a note."

I have listened to that song 495 times this past year.
This is well over one hundred times more than any other song in my rather large library.

As I discovered this, tears ran straight down my cheeks. Sure I'm bipolar. Sure I have rough times. Sure I cycle a lot. Sure I want to fade away to nothingness at times. But I had no idea I visited that place, musically, for an accumulation of over twenty-five hours in one year.

It is scary.
It is morbid.
It is painful.
It is bipolar disorder.
It is my truth.

I hope you don't have a song like this. But if you do, I hope to Zeus you will turn it off and reach out. In these times I call Dr. Crazy. We stay on the phone and talk while we wait for the extra crazy pills to kick in. Because that place is scary. Damn scary.

Scared or constipated?

I hope you have a Dr. Crazy; and if you don't, you will keep searching until you find a doctor who is a good fit for you and can give you the help you need - like sitting on the phone while you are certain if you are left alone you will hurt yourself.

This is not Dr. Crazy.
Dr. Crazy is not the President of the United States.
But he sure looks happy to be on the phone.

If you don't have a doctor yet, or a doctor who will do the above, call a suicide helpline or a friend. Bottom line is you need to reach out and then allow others to reach back.

The Daily Rock

I know it can be really hard to reach out. To touch someone. To let someone reach back. To be touched in such a vulnerable time. But you need to have that phone to your ear. We cannot navigate pain, that dark, and that deep, left to our own devices. We just can't.

Do you know how I know?

Because turning off that damn song can be really stinkin' hard. I known this. I know deep in my heart how hard it can be...

But turn it off.
Turn that hot-digadee-damn song off.

Reaching for hope and meaning can be hard. I know, sweet friends, I know. But hope? Well, it always eventually returns. Especially when it feels like it can't. When we are certain it won't. It does. And your life? It always, always has meaning.

Despite what those 25+ musical hours may tell me or you - don't listen because those messages - like the ones that tell you, you or your life no longer have meaning...well, that's just horse shit.

I would show you but I'm too much of a lady to post the incredible pluthera of actual horse shit photos floating around the internet. Just know that it's a huge pile of horse shit. (Use your imagination, kids.)

Sometimes it's really hard to listen to the whisper that says:
"You're important. Your life has meaning. It's important you stick around."

I understand how quiet that whisper can be. So put on your listening ears to hear that whisper that says you are worth sticking around. Because you are. We both are. Listen to that hopeful whisper and not that song.

Woah. She looks like a really good listener.

Having a hard time finding your listening ears?
Try an attent-o-scope instead. 
Just follow these three easy steps below.

Despite any and every morbid lyric to that damn song, despite any chord or rhythm of that damn song, I am still here.

That is proof you can be too.
Because you are here.
We are here...together.

Together, friends. It can feel, oh, so lonely. But we really aren't alone. Truly.

I am writing and you are reading.

I don't know your exact pain - no one ever can. But I know a similar pain. And even through all of that pain - your's and mine - we are both still here.

Let's keep it that way.
The world would miss us.
I mean, let's be honest, shall we? We're pretty awesome.

So please do.
Turn off that song.
Stay here.

Until next time...


  1. lovely, friend. glad you're here.

  2. I don't have a song like that, Thank God. But I do sometimes have the thoughts that lead you to listen to the song. Reaching out has saved me too...
    25 hours is a lot of time to have spent listening to that scary, morbid, hated song.
    But let's focus on the approx. 8740 hours (yes, I googled how many hours in a year ! ;) ) that you were focused on something else, something much more live-giving, inspiring, or just plain ordinary living ! Let's focus there, 'kay ? Cause I love a world with you in it.
    I am grateful for your strength, your crazy pills and your awesome Dr.. I am grateful for you, Beautiful Bacon Girl.
    Let's keep reaching out...
    Hugs !

    1. Oh, Kim. You are such a caring and gentle soul. You are so right. Let's keep reaching. I mean you are the rock fairy responsible for that! :)
      I am so grateful for you. And your magically beautiful and truthful rocks.