I am unliked by those who know me.I am unpopular.
I am insignificant.
I fully understand why. This is not among the mysteries in my life.
I am the leftover piece, the piece that never fits. There is no right place in the wrong context.
Alone is a state of being.
Alone is an empty feeling, a jar filled with gravel.
Sometimes, the pain in my heart is almost unbearable. With whom do I share these thoughts? Well, nobody. Jolie is far away and beset with deep troubles. Frank has no comfort to give right now. Joanna appears to have bowed out entirely.
That's the entire roster.
I am on my own. Blogging can't address every difficulty in my life. People can't, either.
I'm quitting therapy. It's useless in my situation. This is a bit of a bipolar slide, but being sad is much more acceptable socially than the churning storms of a mixed state.
There is no hope. The box of hope has gone missing.
5 comments:
{{{{{May}}}}}
Please don't stop looking for the box.
Insignificant my ass.
Have you forgotten all of the work you do for those who have no voice in this country? Have you forgotten how funny you are? Have you forgotten that you, May Voirrey, have filled up a bucket list I can only dream of?
I just went through a 6 week bout of mixed state followed by a crashing depression followed by Wellbutrin. Tried to go off that for a few days and couldn't handle reality. Back on Wellbutrin.
Bipolar sucks. We both know that. However, it DOES NOT DEFINE WHO WE ARE! How many times have you said you don't accept bipolar? Well, kick and scream at it until it rolls its fat ass off of your box of hope.
I wish you soothing thoughts, dear May.
Much love,
-Sophie
May.....I have been reading your blog now for a couple of months ever since I stumbled on it one evening. You wrote about how the Samual Barber piece "Adagio for strings" made you feel. I was very affected by what you said about it,and I also get that from the piece......I think that you are a keen,witty person just from reading your blog. Most of the time you can find the humor in life,but today I was alarmed to read how you were feeling about everything..........I too hope that you will keep looking for the Box of Hope!! Please!
I'm hoping you've changed your mind about therapy -- yes it's a mixed bag but if you get a good therapist it can help. There was a world of difference between Bill what's-his-name and Jay, the therapist I encountered in my 20s. I might not be married (17 years now, do we count the other 5?) if it weren't for Jay.
Remember that hope was at the bottom of Pandora's box after she let all the other evil's out. Please look harder under all the evils, it's there.
And by the way, I loved the bridge photo.
It was Pandora's box I had in mind, as a matter of fact. I'm just exhausted from trying to put on a brave and happy face. It's killing me. It will kill me.
As for therapy, I'm not getting anywhere. If I hear one more suggestion for yoga and meditation, I'm sure to become homicidal. The good, recommended therapists don't take insurance and I can't afford $70-$100 a pop.
I feel as though my appealing traits have been drained from my body bit by bit over time, like my blood that goes into those vials every ten weeks.
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