Dreaming Awake

Follow the bouncing Kiko! Boing! Boing…Boing!!! Boooinnng! Isn’t boing a funny word? I guess it is a made-up, sounds-like-what-it-means word. You can say it like a spring coming unsprung, or like a superball bouncing off walls, flying everywhere!

Both of those ways of saying it would be very appropriate here, for I am just the bare trunk of a shaky little tree, with my leaves flying all asunder. There is a current running through me that threatens to burst me open like a melon, splatting the walls with bright pink melon-y Kiko innards.

No, thank you for asking, I am not doing well. To look at me, you may think I have a bit of a wide eyed stare, but inside this head it feels like one of those bullet trains will suddenly shoot out of my forehead.( Cue bullet train rushing past soundtrack…)

I haven’t slept for about four consecutive nights, and for me, not sleeping means zero hours of shut-eye. A good night is when I can string together at least 2 two hour segments of lying still in a row. That is becoming a fast fading memory, so I hope this Manic cycle eases soon. The last time it was this bad I had to go to the ER, begging for relief. I think they were going to break out the restraints then, so that is not an option now with Dad in the shape he is.

No, I must keep my “stuff” together somehow. I ran out of Trazodone last night, I have not been taking care of my responsibility toward myself by checking my medicine bottle levels. If you are someone new to taking Anti-depressant or anti-psychotics then let me suggest that you NEVER let yourself run out of meds. I have been under psychiatric supervision for 13 years now, and it has taken me about 10 of those years to take responsibility for my own medicine. It is my job to make sure I don’t endanger myself or those around me, so it is a life saving job for me. My life is in my hands, so running out of Trazodone was “a very bad thing, Kiko!”

I sleep walked around the house all night last night, found myself in the kitchen, in the den, in the hallway, sitting in a chair, leaning against the wall and finally laying on the bedroom floor. I don’t think I went outside, or ate anything- didn’t find any evidence. I fell asleep with my head in a bowl of chocolate ice cream once- when I woke up I thought I had been bludgeoned in my bed- the bowl was stuck to the side of my head like some gross swelling, and the dried ice cream on the sheets and pillows was exactly the rust brown shade of dried blood! Quit laughing! I’m serious!!

Anyway, that as because I was blind drunk, not because I was out of meds.

so, I made myself go get my meds at 7 this morning, in my pajamas. They aren’t really pajamas, they are a mildew spotted pair of yellow green yoga pants the color of puke, and a grey t-shirt that you can see through it is so threadbare. I came home and took a quarter of a tablet to get it into me asap, and then I proceeded to crash out for an hour.

This was the way the day went: make Dad’s breakfast, lay down on the couch. feed the cats, lay down on the couch. feed the dogs, lay down on my bed. Feed the birds, lay down in my recliner. Feed dad lunch, lay down in front of television. try to eat, fall onto couch again…

You get the idea. Somehow the hours have past and I am somewhat recovered. I wanted to post something so you all know I am still kicking, and I am praying with all my might for all of us. (Me and my other personalities…) Ha,ha! No, really, I know that with God’s help I will endure.

May Jehovah’s Will be Done! Then one day, none of us will ever suffer from any kind of sickness.

I am dreaming of that day.

Dreaming Awake.

Author: ST Martin

I am an Artist, Poet and Author. A Survivor of Violent Sexual Abuse and Rape, I have lived thru Severe Domestic Violence, Twenty Three years of Addiction and Alcoholism, Family Dysfunction, Chronic Pain, Dependence on Opioids, and 2 Venomous Snake Bites...I have Been Stabbed, Shot at, Tied to a Tree and Choked Unconscious. A Quarter Horse Rolled on Me, as did a Lawn Tractor. I also Wrecked a Harley into a Tree! I also have PTSD and Rapid Cycling Bipolar Disorder, and spent my 18th birthday in a Locked Psychiatric Ward. I am so much more than this: I feel like a tiny seed that sprouted in a desert, and now has grown into a Passion Vine. My Art is my Voice, Screaming, Crying, Praying, Loving, Laughing, Healing- all in Riotous Color...

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