Roller Coaster

Up and down, I’m never steady

Go! No time to get ready

Going from weak to rapidly heady

Can’t eat, can’t sleep

Calm? I can’t keep

In this hole, I’m in too deep

Sometimes I’m down, then suddenly High

I want to keep living, wait that’s a lie

Cos till today I can’t find a reason why

Was flying now I’m drowning

Stay in solitude so I’m not seen frowning

Just end it already and stop clowning

I feel like I’m dead, or am I just dreaming?

Cos it’s like my life, I’m repeatedly streaming

In my head I’m continually screaming

Please, please, please just make it all end

Anyone at all, doesn’t have to be a friend

As long as it’s genuine and not just pretend

~Nat

Positivity Dose

What’s good my people !! Thanks so much again for joining me on this journey. I’ve been posting a lot on the matter of mental health, depression and co. This may all seem very negative to some, like, why am I writing suicidal stories? Why am I writing depressed poems? Aren’t people depressed enough as it is?

The thing is… Many go through what I post, some of it isn’t even my own work. The worst thing about suffering is suffering alone. Note, I’m not saying having bipolar disorder is “suffering” so don’t misinterpret my words. I’m just trying to help build a community of people who understand each other and can support/help each other.

It’s one thing to be sad, another to be depressed. Regardless of that though, it’s been medically proven that positivity goes a long way in dealing with mental health issues. I post daily motivational content, nothing but good vibes on Instagram so please kindly share this with anyone and everyone!!

www.instagram.com/wokenphilosopha

I’m on twitter as well with the same handle, slide into my DM, let’s get in touch!! I hope that my posts help and continue to make a positive impact !!

Stay awesome, stay woke!!

Mr. E

Bipolar (Double the power)

Being bipolar isn’t being crazy, it just means you have a super power. A whole other side that behaves in a different way. People fear what they don’t understand, and we tend to fear ourselves as a result of not quite fully grasping what entangles us as well.

Kanye West is bipolar. He said something the world doesn’t understand, that he himself didn’t fully grasp. On the case of slavery, he said it sounded like a choice. That made no sense and offended a lot of people. But wait, let’s dissect that bipolar influenced statement.

We have people flooding our streets, begging, pleading, desperate for money. Imagine this, if you could get paid a small amount of money, or be fed in exchange for services, being given shelter, having something to do in life, wouldn’t you take it instead of living on a daily basis hoping to meet a Good Samaritan or 2?

Kanye didn’t realize at the time that he had a ground breaking idea, but didn’t fully understand what was in his mind. He said it sounded like a choice, he should’ve said it should be a choice. And don’t get me wrong, I’m not in support of how the slaves of the past were treated, but imagine a slavery reform, not fully doing away with it.

Before I forget, it’s important to understand that I’m in no way justifying some of the things Kanye has said and done. Being bipolar is not an excuse to act out. So many of us suffering from this don’t expect to “get away” with some of the things we say or do during an episode.

We have people who get laid peanuts, some people complain about it but still show up to to do the work. So many people would kill to get a fraction of that, to have some form of purpose. So let’s say instead of mistreating people, we treated them like people, not animals. We teach them, educate them, help them become effective members of society.

So many people would teach for free, all we need is a place where such people can be taught. They would work, get fed and have a place to sleep. That’s almost the sound of your typical 9 to 5, only difference is a 9 to 5 has somewhat more pay. Sometimes it’s not about the money, it’s about the purpose, the point to life. Knowing that you’re part of something that’s helping move the human race forward.

See? Being bipolar isn’t bad. It just means you’re wired differently. You need a little more patience than others, perhaps some meds and therapy but you have an ability, not an inability! It’s a blessing disguised as a curse. So get the help you need, shut that mouth and understand how the genius is trying to express itself.

Next time you’re feeling crazy, consider it as your genius looking for a way to express itself. Take a chill pill, put your thoughts together and change the world!

-Zoe

The Voices

“You’re no good! You just make things worse for those around you!”

“If you truly love them you’ll leave them! They’ll be better off without you!”

“Come on! There’s no point to this thing, it’s useless, just off yourself already!”

“There’s no redemption for the likes of you, you’re damaged goods!”

“Come on! You’re still not over this?”

“You’re just exaggerating! Nothing’s wrong with you, you’re just not trying hard enough”

“Give up! Give up! Give up! Hahahaha”

“You’re a joke!”

These are some of the things the voice whispers to me. It never yells though, it just calmly puts these suggestions in my mind. My thoughts aren’t my own anymore, in fact, I can’t even tell the voices apart. It sounds like my better judgement trying to talk me out of being so naive. The voice of “reason” if you will.

Some days harder than others, others somewhat better at times. High highs and low lows, I’m literally living a rollercoaster of a life. During the bad episodes I always tend to hate myself more. My loved ones feel sad because of me, I’m causing them so much pain so I guess the voices are right. I am a curse to them! Life really might be better off without me.

When I’m happy, I’m really happy! But when I’m sad, I feel as though I’m drowning in lava. There’s this hole I feel in my chest, a strange inexplicable kind of pain. It doesn’t just hurt metaphorically but literally as well!

Do these voices ever go away? Do they ever stop haunting you? The feeling of wanting to “end it all” doesn’t just come from the guilt or the pain of certain experiences, but the burden of putting up with the voices. They’re just so overwhelming to deal with. Can’t they just shut the f*ck up? I hate myself enough already, I don’t need to be reminded of that constantly.

My brother is into all this “personal development” and self help crap, so I decided to give it a shot. I developed a routine which started keeping me in check for some time. I would wake up every morning at 4:30am, make my bed immediately, drink a tall glass of water and practice this “gratitude” thing. I would then meditate on some positive affirmations for 30 minutes.

I would listen to some motivational audio to help block out the voices, Fearless motivation always hits it home! I made it a priority to also do something physical to get my brain going. I got that from Jim Kwik who says, “As your body moves, your brain grooves” and it’s so true!

After doing all this, my brain felt super charged! I was able to read for 45 minutes every single day before my day even got started. It helped me ace my tests, keep up with my courses and all. I had developed a great morning routine that kept my spirits up, kept me in check and overall made me productive. Life was awesome!!

Every time the voice would try to slide into my mind I’d fight it off easily by “flipping the switch”. I was confident, I was positive and I was happy! I loved having a routine. I had it going for about 2 months. Once I had overslept, I felt the domino effect! Little by little nothing would work anymore. I couldn’t wake up early, I couldn’t workout, I couldn’t read, I couldn’t even think anymore. I fell out of the routine and got dumped back into depression.

I’m drowning again! This time the voice came back with a vengeance. It wasn’t rude, it just laughed and teased. “You think you can be saved? You really think you can get yourself together? Ha ha ha! What a joke.” It was so jovial, so playful but so painful.

I’ve tried booze, I’ve tried weed, lean, ecstasy and even coke. Nothing is working, the feelings are just getting more and more magnified. It was fun for a while, “Disconnecting” and just living in the moment, but the relief didn’t last.

The overwhelming feeling of anxiety, pain and helplessness would always creep in. Can I really be saved? Help! Anyone, please? The drugs are keeping me steady for now but I can’t keep this up for long. I’m already broke, I owe everyone I know, I don’t want to start sucking dick for coke. Please !!

I’m willing to try anything. I’m all out of options, I don’t want to live anymore but I’m too scared to die…

~Kim

What should I do?

“Do not do this, do not do that, blah blah blah!So f*cking annoying. I can’t help but get annoyed every time I heard that usual garbage from some quack that thinks they have life all figured out. Jesus turned water into wine, you know? Screw it! Let’s do it Micky! I can still down more shots than you even on my death bed…”

Those were the last words I heard from him. I was always a supportive friend, I didn’t think it right to tell someone how they ought to live their lives. I mean, after all, it was their life to live in the first place. I wouldn’t want someone telling me not to date Roxanne, she may have been a stripper in the past but she’s changed. I love her and she loves me, that’s all that mattered.

They say “the road to hell is paved with good intentions”, and as sure as death and taxes, my good intentions led my best friend to hell. Not the religiously fabricated version of it but a more comprehensible form of it, right here on earth. Being alive but not able to live.

That night after we took a couple Tequila shots, nothing was the same. I starred at him for a while as he gazed lifelessly at the floor. It was as though he was in a trance. A trance that no one knew how to snap him out of. I snapped my fingers in an attempt to try and “wake him up” to no avail. He just sat there…

The next thing I saw was him bolting toward the road as though he had a death wish. This wasn’t the case though as I’ve always known him to be the happiest person in the world. He had big dreams and plans of what he was going to do in life. He had that Hollywood smile that would make you think he hadn’t a care in the world.

So what was most heartbreaking about it all wasn’t the he dove headfirst into a speeding vehicle and died on the spot, but that he had watered down his actual condition. He was dealing with bipolar depression. I’ve read about depression and I knew it was serious. It was trending.

Bipolar disorder though, often overlooked as a kind of attention seeking tactic, I hadn’t much knowledge about. Since that night, watching my closest friend get taken away from me so abruptly, I’ve never been the same. I couldn’t shake the fidgety feeling, the rambling and raging thoughts.

For much of my life I had placed the entire blame on myself. I’ve always felt responsible for him and assured him I’d look out for him. I dedicated the rest of my life to try and understand this bipolar thing. Perhaps I could help other people dealing with the same thing, you know, as a way to honor his memory.

It took me 12 years to attain a PhD in psychology. I’ve sat down and helped countess individuals, who were far less enthusiastic about life than he was, yet were far more responsive. Could it be that I was just that good? Perhaps if he had the kind of help I offer he wouldn’t have been in that situation?

That’s what I thought until I met a patient that had his demeanor. I felt as though he had been reincarnated, like life gave me a chance to save my friend. I was so excited I dropped all my other cases and focused all my attention on this kid.

It was proving to be the greatest challenge ever! I was getting discouraged until during one of our sessions he mentioned he’s fine because he takes a little weed and a drink every now and then to stay in check. This was the turning point.

There were numerous extensive articles on the dangers of substance abuse in terms of how they may chemically alter normal brain function. A flashback of that night swooped in, there he was, sitting and starring at the ground like he was out of his mind.

Out of fear and genuine concern for the same thing to happen, I firmly put my foot down! I threatened to send him to rehab should he continue this habit. He looked at me bemused. “Aren’t you supposed to be the cool doctor? And anyway, what makes you think my dad will let you disgrace him like that, no son of his will end up in a crazy house, you know?”

I don’t know where the anger came from but I raised my voice and strictly forbid him. His last words to name were,

“You’re all the same. Do not do this, do not do that, blah blah blah! So f*cking annoying. I can’t help but get annoyed every time I heard that usual garbage from some quack that thinks they have life all figured out. Jesus turned water into wine, you know? Screw it! I knew therapy was pointless…”

He walked out of my office and I felt a huge hole in my chest! At the point I felt powerless, I felt so overwhelmed and engulfed by my emotions.

-Mick

Attention

Attention, that latest drug we crave

When denied, sends many to the grave

It has nothing to do with being brave

We are all looking for a reason

That special purpose, even if it’s treason

Just wait they say, for your season

But what’s there really, to this thing called life

Having kids and marrying a wife?

Starting out in harmony, ending up in strife

Being a part of something greater

Trying not to become a hater

Suffer now, enjoy later

Life? There’s nothing more ironic

Thinking ourselves wise while being moronic

Chasing lasting fame trying to become iconic

A wise man once said it’s all vanity

Trying to stay alive only to die, insanity

Having no clear picture, all lacking clarity

So what if you get it? So what if you don’t

Living forever, you surely won’t

~Keesha

 

http://www.instagram.com/wokenphilosopha

A voice with a mask maybe?

So if you’ve been paying attention, most of my posts have a different name at the end. Some of these names are completely made up. It could be that I wrote Macy’s suicide note. Perhaps one of my followers from Alaska wrote it to express themselves. That’s the point! You’ll never be sure.

Sometimes we let things eat us up inside instead of getting it off our chest because we fear the backlash from society. We fear “What people will say” more than we like to admit it. We want to pretend to have it together because we think it’s not ok to not be ok. We don’t get the help we need and we end up feeling alone even around people.

So here’s the chance for anyone reading this right now, you can create a fake e mail, fake instagram or whatever if you don’t trust us and want to remain as anonymous as possible. Share your story with us, we post it anonymously and you wait to see how people reply. Those who understand won’t judge, and those who judge won’t understand and that’s fine! That’s their problem, not yours! Ignite the dogs, let them bark. You take what’s useful and throw away the trash.

You get to read the comments from people who follow the blog, some will relate, some will be able to help advise or give their perspective perhaps based on a similar encounter, some will benefit as a result of you coming out with it. Like I once mentioned, tell the story of the mountain you climbed, your words could be a page in someone else’s survival guide.

Let’s create a community of open minded individuals who don’t have time to be bitter, but rather choose to be better. Life is short, all we have is each other in the end. So let’s root for each other and watch each other grow.

~E