The Tree

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Queen Tree, Hamar, Norway

Queen Tree, Hamar, Norway

 

In the lowering sky among the clouds
where the sky ships knows no rest
There is born a restless wind
that slowly begin to blow the mist
embracing the old hidden tree, away

With branches twisted through the ages
it carries all the leafs that come and go
for us to decide and them to leave
So – wich one to choose and keep forever

Searching for the one true leaf that wont leave
the one without a mask and dirty tricks
The newborn wind takes a deep breath 
and the leafs fall and go

And as the mist slowly fades away
carrying the remains into nowhere
there is one leafe left that didnt leave
And thats the only leafe that I will pick

© Sirenia 2011
© Photo Stelios Mpatz

*I often find inspiration to write from what I see in nature. I had a lot of forest and wildlife around me when I lived in Norway. This tree is majestic no matter what season it is. I used to pass this tree every day and was stunned each time.

In The Beginning There Was … Chaos

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“Do you take any other medications?”
The dentist looked up at me while I was standing in his office with a toothache from another world, trying to figure out which anitibiotics he would give me before he would rape my tooth in order to avoid pulling it out.

“Yes, I take Lithium.”
I heard it myself. My voice sounded like a duck, I actally quacked the words out of my swollen and very painful mouth.
The dentist immediately stopped what he was doing and stared at me. Oh man, here it comes. I remember taking a deep breath knowing what was coming.
“But …” he said, leaning back in his chair and crossing his legs while his eyebrows lowered a bit, ” you don’t look sick!”

No, I am well aware of that. I have a disorder. I have Bipolar Disorder. And I say I have Bipolar. I don’t say I am Bipolar. For me there is a big difference between the two of them. Having Bipolar is a part of me and who I am, but it don’t define me or who I am.

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This year it is 8 years ago I was diagnosed with Bipolar Disorder rapid cycling mixed states. Peewh, loong diagnosis! I am not sure when it all started but it was in my early teens. When I was 17 I was diagnosed and medicated for my first “official” depression.
And it took many years with many embarrassing episodes, depressions, manias where most people thought I was so funny, so effective, so creative and so full of energy!
And then I hit rock bottom like never before with full blown depression, anxiety and a lot of weird thoughts/scenes in my mind.
I got hospitalized. And there I met the one doctor who finally understood what I suffered from.
I continued to see him weekly for a long time after the hospital and he helped me to understand that is was a part of me. Forever.

But back to where I started. The episode at the dentist office.
When you have an illness which is invisible, people tend to not believe you. Illness is, according to most people, something they can see with their own eyes. It’s something you can’t hide when you have a cast on your arm or leg. Wheelchair or loss of hair because of cancer treatment.
But an illness of the mind? Come on! You don’t look sick! Pull yourself together and stop that nonsense!
I have heard it all, believe me.  I know I don’t look sick, but you don’t see me on my bad days either.

I wonder though; would it have been better if I looked and behaved like the professor in the movies “Back to the future?” Would it be easier for people to understand? Is this what people believe or expect when they hear about or meet a person who tells they have a mental disorder?  😀

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For a long time I was ashamed to tell. I told a few people and I never saw them again. People are afraid of what they don’t understand. Or maybe they also just concidered me as a total fruit cake which is fine by me. Sometimes I DO feel like a fruit cake 😀
Like when I keep forgetting things and by that I don’t mean what people say “I’m hopeless.”
No, I mean I go to the kitchen and don’t remember why I am there. I go to the store and have no clue what I was going to get or how I got there. I forget appointments. Or I go to the appointment but don’t remember why I am there. I forget words. I fall out of conversations, not rememberig what we talk about.
But I keep notes. I have a notebook where I write things down, hoping I will not forget.
I have felt stupid many times in stores, farmacies when they ask what I want and I say … “Eehh .. I don’t remember!” 😀 I can’t do anything else than to laugh of myself. So in that way I AM a total fruit cake 😀

forgetting
But this is an affect of Bipolar Disorder. One of the funny sides 😀

At this point, I feel I am mastering my illness and what has happened to me. Of course, there are days where I question everything and my own existence, but I don’t think that is something that is connected to my illness. Knowing what triggers my anxiety, knowing the signs of a depression or a mania coming is something I have learned to recognize. But sometimes it is just there without me seeing it. But life goes on 🙂

As absurd it may sound, this what I am going to say, I am greatful. I am greatful for all the things life gave me. Growing up with a narcissistic mother and an absent father since he could not face what was going on at home. Getting Bipolar Disorder. I am greatful for what my parents thaught me. I am greatful for what my disorder has taught me.
I learned what kind of person I don’t want to be. I learned that not all people has the ability to show affection since they are being tortured by their own demons and can’t see pass it. And I learned, in the end, to be ok with that.
I learned that life is not only black and white, but full of grey shades wich also hides their monsters. I learned to welcome them and dance along.
And in the end; I learned that I am allowed to celebrate myself. To love myself and forgive myself. Because none of this happening to me was ever my fault or a punishment of some kind.
I learned how to have a happy life. To laugh. I have my own family now and I am able to live life at its fullest and enjoy. Life is great!

Sirenia 2016

Photos Unknown

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ELIZABETH ANN JOHNSON-MURPHREE

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On a Blue Bird Day

It is spring, warm breezes float through magnolia trees.  A gracious woman of the South rises from past memories; her thoughts behind the ice blue eyes. She sits on the bank of a pebbly brook under a Blue Bird sky, the scent of lilac rises from her starched dress.  She dips her fingers slowly into the cool water; she is old and life has passed her by, and the depths of her truth never known.  In her secret place of selfishness her hate for an unwanted child; she stops to ponder her own question; does she deserve the name “Mother”.

©2016.elizabethannjohnsonmurphree

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The Landscape

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… the landscape,
the valleys and the hills
which your path went through
on your lifes journey
– it seems divergent
as you take a peek back

And all that once was majestic
– boulders and forest –
are long gone
Only leaving an echo
of what once were

… though maybe it’s not absent
but rather it is the radiance
from your beating heart
of all you met on your
journey through life
who really made a difference

© Sirenia 2016
© Photo Stelios Mpatz

Summer …

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Photo by Jean Carneiro

Photo by Jean Carneiro

 

Hot humid lips
Eating, kissing its way
All over the land and the
Trembeling horizon

Wraps its lips greedily, tighter
As I gasp for air while it is
Violently loving
Every inch of my body

© Sirenia 2016

*We have a heat wave here with temps up to 42C. It’s hot. It’s humid. It’s summer. I will go away for the weekend. Closer to the beach where I can cool down with baths in the ocean and a cold beer. And I wish you all a nice weekend!

Afraid Of The Dark

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As a child I was very timid. I was scared of a lot of things. Cemeteries. Drunk men. Strange old ladies, especially at winter when they wore dark clothes.
In my room there was an old closet I was afraid of. It stood besides the window and made a dark silouette against the wall on nights with moonlight and bright springnights. Right before I fell asleep the closet got eyes and started to hiss.

“- It`s just a closet,” the adults said. “That`s nothing to be afraid of?”
Then they opened the doors and knocked in the wood to show in what extent it was a closet. As if it proves anything.
“- You are not afraid of a closet?” they asked.
“- No”, I replied.

But that was not true at all.
Now I know, of course I knew just as well as them that it was just a closet. But so what?
Listen, there is a reason to be afraid of a closet that gets eyes and starts to hiss already before you have fallen asleep. It was impossible to know what it was doing while you was really sleeping! It is pure stupidity to not be afraid when you have a crazy closet moving around in the room.

When I now hear, in the dark, a man with a wooden leg, walking back and forth in the attic all night; I don`t go to the attic to check.
I crawl under my blanket and stay there til the morning light comes and removes the scary being. I have always done that.
But I also know that if I had gone up there, and seen with my own eyes that there was no man with a wooden leg jumping around there, gone down again to bed and then heard the man with the wooden leg. Then I had known it was an invisible man with a wooden leg.
Tell me; what is so much better with that?!

© Sirenia 2012
© Photo found here.

Nothing Matters To The Dead

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Flying on the wings of a dreamy mist
I sigh, close my eyes and smile
I am off to live and not just exist
a scent of velvet night, so fragile

I just dont know what makes me wake up
to this indifferent world and dirty rain
I let my mind wander as I fill my coffeecup
getting ready to walk with the dead again

… For the humming of flies and smell of roses
and the seagulls flight over water`s deep
For the shades of the green trees that poses
and roar of waterfalls that never sleep

For shady glades and sunny hills
and golden fields where we have run
For the joy of a child playing by the mills
with the taste of raspberry on her tounge

For the moons reflection in the river
swept over the spear of a lonely church
For the morning dew droplets that quiver
and owlets that dance in the light of a torch

For those who choose the pain of living
and chasing storms around them whirled
For tortured souls – and yet forgiving
still helps the skies to bear this world

Deep breath in my lungs as the vision`s dying
Those never fail who never dare
Cried for by none and cursed, we were just trying
to dream of what you`re not aware

Of a soft breeze embracing lovers
and butter melting into warm bread
Of high mountains and soft flowers
yet nothing matters to the dead …

© Sirenia 2011
© Photo Stelios Mpatz

* This poem has been posted here earlier.

The Gift That Keeps On Giving

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… and the gift I bestowe
upon you my child
the shame, the guilt
the blame and the grieve;
it is yours to keep and only yours
as it will always keep alive
the pain of your soul slowly dying
as it is being raped
over and over again
from cradle to grave
I give to you
my dear daughter
the gift that
keeps on giving

© Sirenia 2016
© Photo Unknown

 

*Being a daughter of a narcissistic mother is never easy. It makes you question your sanity at all times, convinced you are the guilty one for all the wrongs in her life.
And it also drives you to the brink of madness of all the crosses I had to bear for her. All the blame, the shame, the guilt. And it never ends. Thats why I call it the gift that keeps on giving.
Another poem I wrote wich is related to this are called Gunpoint

~ Sirenia ~