Writing As A Form Of Therapy

I am here,out in amongst people

But I am alone

Thinking peeping at the past figures in my life who cared enough to stay a while

Going forward not knowing

It may be an adventure

Afraid and worried

I want to write

All the sorrows and losses

I had denied my needs

I couldn't grief

The one who abused used me

My own father

Took away my chances of happiness,love and family

I hate him so intensely

Then I hadn't done anything

But he abused because he could

Sadness is my life

@Meowmy

It's great that you can use writing as a way to process and let out emotions; it can be very theraputic.

Remember that if you'd ever like more support (a listening ear, referrals), services such as 1800 RESPECT (1800 737 732) are there for survivors of abuse, as well as Blue Knot (1300 657 380) for survivors of childhood abuse.

Take care 💞

@Former-Member hey thanks so much for care and support. Funny these stuff come and go. Feeling better now after the intense emotions gone. Thanks again. Take care.

Hugs my @Meowmy ❤❤

Hello @Former-Member , @Former-Member , @Silenus 👋❤

@bipolarbunny , this is the writing thread

I guess like most people here, I've been writing on and off most of my life, specifically poetry. I used to just write Bush poetry to remember the good years I had with my horses and then I stopped for a good long while. Then during my first session with my new Tdoc last year he commented on my email address which has "poet" in it. And I told him, yeah I used to write many moons ago. So we had a discussion about bipolar and creativity and the power of the pen. That night I decided to see if I could still write. Yep, like riding a bike. So now he sets me poetry homework assignments every week lol. I am up to poem 77! I love it. It has been so cathartic, it's like the voice I was never allowed to have has broken through as now has a LOT to say lol. It's definitely become entrenched as a form of therapy and it's allowed me to bare my soul in a safe way.
I seem to write prolifically when I'm manic, mixed or depressed, which is kinda funny because when I'm that way I generally have the attention span of a gnat!

Anyway. Here's a couple for your perusal.
BB 🐰❤️

So this poem like most of them was suggest by my Tdoc. He told me my mania reminds him of being a horse that's out of control and you are on its back taken for a ride. Then he say's, The Mania Horse, there's gotta be a poem in that! Yes JB, I guess there was, lol.

The Mania Horse

A horse is a horse,

Of course, of course,

Unless it’s a horse,

Of a different source,

A troublesome brute,

With some danger to boot,

I’m riding it’s nature by force.

A ride is a ride,

Till you’re flicked to the side,

Berated by stride,

You’ve been handed your pride,

This mania steed,

Has an urge to be freed,

And sadly, there’s nowhere to hide.

Now manic is manic,

A horse full of panic,

His mind is tyrannic,

His moods are volcanic,

As a jockey you grip,

But you can’t use the whip,

So you’re sitting astride the titanic.

A rein for a rein,

It’s becoming insane,

The gallop a drain,

You are fighting in vain,

Head in distress,

Your hands are a mess,

Is it really worth all of the pain.

An eye for an eye,

Your horse starts to shy,

Your ass in the sky,

As you kiss it goodbye,

You land in a heap,

Too exhausted to weep,

And it’s here that you think you might die.

A mount for a mount,

Too tired to count,

Too hard to surmount,

I want to dismount,

But the ride isn’t done,

‘Twas voted as fun,

I’m demanding a proper recount.

A jockey, A jockey,

‘Twas feeling all cocky,

The ride became rocky,

But I remained stocky,

The excitement now stale,

Knocked the wind from my sail,

But I kept myself free of the chocky.

A force is a force,

Of course, of course,

Unless it’s a force,

On a manic discourse,

I fell for a while,

But I rose with a smile,

For I conquered the mania horse.

© BB - 10 March 2021

So this one was written after a particularly hard crash. I tend to go through a cycle of anger, frustration, grief, shame, forgiveness and acceptance every single time I crash. This poem depicts what that feels like.

And Just Like That

And just like that it crashes down,

A smile implodes into a frown,

The happiness once felt inside,

Is crushed by the bipolar ride.

And just like that I’m broken shards,

Relinquishing my house of cards,

Bereft of hope, I start to bawl,

There’s nothing left to break my fall.

And just like that I feel a sting,

There’s fire ants beneath my skin,

That plagiarise a brutal truth,

The world has torn apart my youth.

And just like that, I ruminate,

As feelings start to dissipate,

Into an all familiar numb,

I feel as if I’ve come undone.

And just like that I cannot hear,

The voice of reason standing near,

My head is filled with rapid noise,

Unsettled by the stagnant poise.

And just like that I cannot sleep,

Instead I’m crumpled in a heap,

Wounded, with my soul aghast,

The tide of pain approaching fast.

And just like that I hit the shore,

Familiar places to explore,

The comfort zone which bottoms out,

Into a rising sea of doubt.

And just like that the words I spill,

Dissociate beneath my will,

Is all this real, am I okay,

Or was I thrown into the fray.

And just like that it’s fight or flight,

I cannot flee the darkened night,

I’m locked in battle in my head,

My thoughts are full of hate and dread.

And just like that the bitter means,

Which turn my anger into screams,

Negotiate the rapid waves,

My head explodes in fits of rage.

And just like that my tears befall,

A sullen convoluted brawl,

That rips my very soul in two,

And turns my joy the colour blue.

And just like that I start to write,

In times like these, my only light,

Is ridding these tormented scenes,

That grip the nature of my dreams.

And just like that I hold to hope,

That I can find my knotted rope,

And climb again, to make a start,

On piecing back, my broken heart.

© BB - 04 Mar 2021