The Boiler Within

I often like to imagine that if I do not discuss my mental illnesses they will fade away.  Out of sight, out of mind.  Such isn’t reality.  Living daily with a mood disorder reminds you of the lack of control you have over your own mind.  This reminder can be challenging for a control freak like myself. Pretending all will dissipate only works in Hollywood.  When I wake, it is still there.  Weighting me down on my best days.  I wake happy.  I fluctuate between happiness and aggravation every day blaming others stupidity, stupidly.

The fun part of it all is ignoring my symptoms.  Only to be reminded of them slamming me into a brick wall.  Time after time I lose a battle that only I am fighting because only I am stubborn enough to believe I am in control.  Who am I kidding?

Medication does its part which I am grateful for.  Without it, I am a hot mess express barreling down the tracks at a rate of speed comparable to lightning.  Striking every individual emotion along its way.  At that point, my illness is out of control fighting against itself.  Shew! I don’t miss those days of chaos!

closeup of mirror shards

Photo by Amber Lamoreaux on

Days spent in la-la land remind me of a time before I was told I was sick.  Me with my illnesses were normal, my normal anyway and who else matters?  I mean, really!  My Ma will tell you I’ve always been special, meaning my explosive moods will catch you, guard, because they are disguised with love and innocence.  An innocence that is childlike.  Others may call it clueless but that isn’t it.  I never know what will make me tingle.  But what I do know is that when I tingle, I get mad.  I hate it.  I despise that part of me.  I hate the removal of taste from my taste buds.  I hate that damn tingle!  And then afterward I am embarrassed and hate myself.  It’s a cycle that can’t be broke but luckily it is tamed.

I’m a girl.  I’m not supposed to be so mean.  So I’ve been told.  I’m too pretty to be so angry.  Funny thing is, everyone claims looks to be deceiving.  I don’t know why I am mad at the world but it sure as hell pisses me off.  That’s the thing about anger, it’s an issue.  An issue that I live with and not because I asked for it.

Living with mental illness is challenging enough without all the added stressors, questions and doubt.  I just want to be me.  I just want to feel ok enough to be ok with who I am and who I’ve always been.  I live with another side of myself that I can’t explain why it is the way it is and that’s tough.  I’ve never met anyone with an anger problem who is proud to have it.  It’s a battle.  Yes, we learn how to cope but to say it is easy to implement would be a lie.  In a fit of anger, all goes black for me.  How am I to think then?  I try.  Man do I try.  I’ve gotten better because of medical assistance but I’m not cured nor will I ever be.  I hang onto hope.  Hope for self-acceptance.  Hope for understanding and hope for compassion.

I’m sorry you piss me off.  Imagine how pissed I am at myself!

10 thoughts on “The Boiler Within

  1. My schedule depends on my mood. There have been too many times I couldn’t get to the door because self doubt and anxiety stops me. I am on a ganja quest to help me relax and keep me from breaking things. Know that though our circumstances may differ, you’re not alone. Keep fighting. Keep trying. If not for your loved ones, then for your sanity.
    – Peace & love

    Liked by 1 person

  2. I think that anger may have been one of the worst symptoms of my bipolar when I think about it. An anger that brewed to explosion unpredictably far too many times. My anger had to get out. I could not contain it. You are so right that the worst part about the horrific anger is hating yourself afterwards. It was awful. Great post. Thank you for reminding me about the anger that raged in me. Eve, I want you to know that it can and will get better. I lived with it for over 25 years and went through hell to put it mildly, but I feel better than ever. Don’t give up. You are doing fabulous and helping many with your writing. it can get better. The severity of the pain improves. It may be because the brain can change favorably over time or it could be because we learn how to cope better. They do not have all the answers yet. There is so much they do not know. At any rate, it will get better and will be worth every fight you battle and every obstacle you overcome. Be well and keep fighting and keep keeping on. Much love and hugs, Sue

    Liked by 1 person

  3. We are not alone in this battle. Anger rides inside us like a shadow clinging to the back of a dark dampened wall. The whole world is angry and seeking acceptance. I have learned that anger can be harnessed to become a tool for transformation both outwardly and inwardly. Harnessing it, however, can be a cagey endeavor.

    We are programmed puppets to seek social acceptance when in reality it is overrated. The social rules are ever changing in the perceptions of each generation encountered. I learned that my desire and drive for acceptance can only come from within ourselves – for ourselves.

    We must choose to accept ourselves ‘just as we are,’ and in that choice, we must also choose to make a place for that acceptance within the heart of our own mind.

    Yes, we still tend to waiver, as we stand up to challenge the old mindset and patterns of our thinking, We stand up to battle the parent tapes rolling its bulleted points of view at a machine gun pace in our head. Our internal foes come out of the dark in their attempt to retake control. They test our resolve to change and create a new truth and a new mindset that can rally brilliantly to make the change complete. Some skirmishes are lost, yet we do not weary at the fight before us. We affirm and confirm our will to succeed in our need to rise above the denizens of darkness.

    We become like the warrior whose dance enthralls all around the bonfire as it blazes brightly against the night sky. We thrust and parry against the invisible enemy hoping we don’t get tripped up in our efforts and pray we don’t stumble over our own feet, as our mind is drawn instinctively to the familiar tune. We struggle to find our own feet and create a new rhythm that allows us to move at a different pace with grace and ease. Like all new dances, it takes practice.


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