Bipolar Disorder Support Group
Bipolar disorder is not just a single disorder, but a category of mood disorders marked by periods of abnormally high energy and euphoria, often accompanied by bouts of clinical depression. This is the place to talk about your experience with bipolar disorder, learn from others' experiences, and find support.
This is by A.E. Housman:
On Wenlock Edge the wood's in trouble;
His forest fleece the Wrekin heaves;
The gale, it plies the saplings double,
And thick on Severn snow the leaves.
'Twould blow like this through holt and hanger
When Uricon the city stood:
'Tis the old wind in the old anger,
But then it threshed another wood.
Then, 'twas before my time, the Roman
At yonder heaving hill would stare:
The blood that warms an English yeoman,
The thoughts that hurt him, they were there.
There, like the wind through woods in riot,
Through him the gale of life blew high;
The tree of man was never quiet:
Then 'twas the Roman, now 'tis I.
The gale, it plies the saplings double,
It blows so hard, 'twill soon be gone:
To-day the Roman and his trouble
Are ashes under Uricon.
On Wenlock Edge the wood's in trouble;
His forest fleece the Wrekin heaves;
The gale, it plies the saplings double,
And thick on Severn snow the leaves.
'Twould blow like this through holt and hanger
When Uricon the city stood:
'Tis the old wind in the old anger,
But then it threshed another wood.
Then, 'twas before my time, the Roman
At yonder heaving hill would stare:
The blood that warms an English yeoman,
The thoughts that hurt him, they were there.
There, like the wind through woods in riot,
Through him the gale of life blew high;
The tree of man was never quiet:
Then 'twas the Roman, now 'tis I.
The gale, it plies the saplings double,
It blows so hard, 'twill soon be gone:
To-day the Roman and his trouble
Are ashes under Uricon.
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theatre and I are there already. I'm having a very berry tea with crackers, cheese and cherry tomatoes and she's having a joint with some beer and we're both on really comfy recliners on thick pile carpet. we need some help with the decor if anyone is around??
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I'm trying to exercise daily. I was doing fairly well until I sprained my ankle 2 weeks ago but now I'm getting back on the horse. Today I walked over a mile with my arm weights that are about 22lbs total. I was out of shape and it was hard on my arms. I also did my 30 situps. I'm also going to drink a lot of water and try to eat healthy. I do tend to have a sweet tooth but I'm cutting...
I think that I shall never find
A kindred spirit gentle and kind,
a work in progress, thank you Sgt Kilmer
Uricon is an ancient Roman city that they established in Britain, but only its ruins remain.
The Severn is a river
The Wrekin is a moutainous hill in the north of England
My thoughts, my God, how they escape me now
A pen and paper make them disappear somehow
My feelings are drained, into the big black hole
My body is an empty shell, I have no soul
I look for people and see them there
But it makes no diffference, I do not care
The world I see is cold and cruel
I dream of warmth, but I'm a fool
The pain I suffer comes from everywhere
I don't look in the mirror, I know it's there
It follows me through life, like a darkened cloud
The voices in my head, scream so loud
But even they, can't make the pain go away
I scream, I shout, I kneel and I pray
As I struggle to survive, just one more day
My sister Laura's bigger than me
And lifts me up quite easily.
I can't lift her, I've tried and tried..
She must have something heavy inside.
Spike Milligan
------------------------------
How can hope become a way of life,
A principle determining ones ends,
Putting what might be before what is,
Postponing pleasure till the sacrifice
Yields the dream--naked, yes, but real?
Granted, one might choose to live ones life
Removed from the morass of means and ends,
Avid for the ecstasy of is,
Desiring neither change nor sacrifice,
Undone by the raw rapture of the real.
A moment is a point upon a life
That serves by will or chance enduring ends.
In time one sees will be and was in is,
Opening ones heart to sacrifice,
Needing larger nows to hold whats real.
On the Ning Nang Nong
On the Ning Nang Nong
Where the Cows go Bong!
and the monkeys all say BOO!
There's a Nong Nang Ning
Where the trees go Ping!
And the tea pots jibber jabber joo.
On the Nong Ning Nang
All the mice go Clang
And you just can't catch 'em when they do!
So its Ning Nang Nong
Cows go Bong!
Nong Nang Ning
Trees go ping
Nong Ning Nang
The mice go Clang
What a noisy place to belong
is the Ning Nang Ning Nang Nong!!
Spike Milligan
Roses are pink
On the graves of those
who drive and drink
"Burma-Shave"
by Bek
Silence builds an awful wreckage of a girl
It feeds on loneliness and creates a void
Gray shadows haunt and torment and torture
A teenager is stricken and destroyed
There is no sound of laughter or happiness here
The little one has thrown in the towel today
Somber, melancholy moods decay the soul
It is futile to hope and dream and pray
Emptiness builds a home in this woman
In this girl, this child where hollows have bred
A deepening sea of nowhereness consumes
And eats away at every connecting thread
Confusion feeds like a savage inside her,
Leaving nothing considered worthy remains
Destined to walk through life less ordinary
Alone, exiled, different and disdained.
Death of a Naturalist
All year the flax-dam festered in the heart
Of the townland; green and heavy headed
Flax had rotted there, weighted down by huge sods.
Daily it sweltered in the punishing sun.
Bubbles gargled delicately, bluebottles
Wove a strong gauze of sound around the smell.
There were dragon-flies, spotted butterflies,
But best of all was the warm thick slobber
Of frogspawn that grew like clotted water
In the shade of the banks. Here, every spring
I would fill jampotfuls of the jellied
Specks to range on window-sills at home,
On shelves at school, and wait and watch until
The fattening dots burst into nimble-
Swimming tadpoles. Miss Walls would tell us how
The daddy frog was called a bullfrog
And how he croaked and how the mammy frog
Laid hundreds of little eggs and this was
Frogspawn. You could tell the weather by frogs too
For they were yellow in the sun and brown
In rain.
Then one hot day when fields were rank
With cowdung in the grass the angry frogs
Invaded the flax-dam; I ducked through hedges
To a coarse croaking that I had not heard
Before. The air was thick with a bass chorus.
Right down the dam gross-bellied frogs were cocked
On sods; their loose necks pulsed like sails. Some hopped:
The slap and plop were obscene threats. Some sat
Poised like mud grenades, their blunt heads farting.
I sickened, turned, and ran. The great slime kings
Were gathered there for vengeance and I knew
That if I dipped my hand the spawn would clutch it.
The Wrekin..I'm sure I have run up that Hill/Mountain...where in the north is it..Should know but cant be arsed to google it!!
veil
I was chosen to wear this veil of emotions
Underneath it anger, rage, cascading loneliness
I've only just scratched the surface of my purpose
Studying the melodramatic voice of my conscience
I've crashed into brick walls and shattered hopes
Without even a scratch upon my silent face
But there's an endless train of ill memories and common mishaps
Intermittent thoughts of darkness, lightened by filtered rays
It's hard to foresee the future because it's positively unpredictable,
like me
Yet, every move, every wreckless tear, every fake smile is precisely mapped out for me
I'm just going through the motions because there's no cure for my intriguing ailment
My words buzz around the room, stinging everyone in sight
Unintended pain inflicted upon my loved ones.
I give the illusion of satisfaction, but I'm actually ashamed and defenseless
The guilt eventually passes, but something new will take its place soon after
I pray that these tainted genes will not pass on to my unsuspecting children,
their innocence stolen
I want to protect them, but i can't control life's natural process
What i can do is listen, seek support, and love myself for who I am
Knowing, that one day, this elusive veil will be lifted.
~Me~
A young boy
On the edge of the world;
He stood across the room,
Stared at me
And left.
He took his life
And left me here
Wondering why.
Through the fallen leaves
Of fading trees
I walk among his memories;
Silence flows across the fields
His pain is gone-
Gone to be embraced
By heaven's loving arms.
This is for you, David;
A soft touch,
A kind word,
A saddened tear,
A bouquet of forget-me-nots:
Peace be with you...
rejecting happiness like the plague
infecting others around me, with haste
they question my actions, but my answers are vague
i don't know where this anger comes from
why it haunts me every minute of the day
i'd tell u if i only knew why
fierce tension invades my constant space
i Want to laugh, i Want to smile, and mean it
but for some reason I'm scared to let my guard down
it's easier to complain and play the victim
than to show my trued self and end up bound
you probably wouldnt understand if i suddenly changed
into one who doesnt like you, or speaks to you coldly
walking around with my head held low
only picking it up to stare at you boldly
have i convinced myself that this is the ony way?
living with a chip on my shoulder and a frown upon my face
even when, i'm not completely down in the dumps,
I still have garbage around smelling up this place
it's not like me to put up with this kind of behavior
And i cant tell how much of it is my own choice
maybe if i think about it al little bit longer
i can dig out the anger and replace it with joy
me.
i usually only write when up or down, so this isnt how i feel at the moment