when mania strikes, situation #1

I am manic as of the moment. 

I have not had a bad idea nor a good sleep for the last six days, 

and I am having racing thoughts or so they say…

mine are very quick, great, astounding ideas but the moment I say I should write them down, my mind is onto something tremendously-outrageous-else.

I can barely concentrate on one task but I get to finish most of them because I keep a list and I'm tidy like that…there's no better joy than sweeping the floor of a whole day's worth of hair, hair and dirt and tiny Lego almost-like-dot size toys and bits of pancit canton. 

I can't say my house is spick and span but I admit I am a germophobic to the level of obscenity (which I do not want to mention). 

I can call it a day if I've accomplished a major clean-up task (whether psychoanalytical, medical, paralegal, paranormal, or simple data gathering, pagkalap ng tsismis and investigation/ surveillance mode, included). 

I can listen to music or watch a movie while I chat, 

talk with my better half and halflings who speak all at once 

sending different messages and all addressed to me, draw, 

check on my email, watch over the stove, paint, cook, 

do the laundry, stare at my painting, read the news; and people watch on FB

(which by the way is not a simple task to do once you get hooked, 

you tend to care…a lot…in a very stressing manner 

and it's evil good because you just can't turn away from it); 

steal some selfie moments alone and then delete them quickly

(I admit, narcissistic written all over me right now)… 

And write these notes that might capture in words a long-standing manic episode for someone with BIPOLAR DISORDER I…  

I am manic, so let me be…ME…who, I bet, is not far from being YOU. 

Learn more about bipolar, it's not all suicide. 

Millet Galeos, 6/27/2015 2:38 AM

#bipolarthoughts

bipolar thoughts

5/29/2012 12:31:39 PM

I can't say whether I am going nuts or getting out of my kookoos. After going through substance withdrawals, highs and lows, erratic and ecstatic synapses, I can't figure out anymore who I am and what monsters I have made of myself and my surroundings.

Independence

singularity, freedom, liberty

Parting is such sweet sorrow! I couldn’t believe that I could take so much of these come-by-let-go relationships but I took them all in a stride. No heaviness at all… Could it be because of my medications? I’ve turned into an insensitive freak? Let’s just put it this way, I have grown comfortable with myself not having to be with anyone. Singular, one, uno, sole, alone, solitary, hermit?! (Oh no! don’t let me be) is all I am.

As my shrink told me, I am like an undisclosed man-hater (I don’t actually believe that), who acts vehemently but with tolerable vengeance for faults found and damage caused on my ego and emotions. It could be because of my undying love for freedom from being rated as second class citizen, and the pride of having a vagina that can bitch around!

To top this all off, let me end with a prayer, Great J, I don’t ask for courage to be independent, I ask for courage to be with somebody who I can truly rely on and who can truly rely on me. It’s been very frightening for me to see myself with someone and getting serious about it. I feel an impossibility in me. Let me grow to love someone else, and not just me. But to get the ball rolling, let me start by loving You and my kids more than anybody else.  

AMEN. 03-20-2003

Falling and Growing

I never thought there would be
such a thing as falling out of love.
I wanted to clear things in my mind
to know if this is just a stage I’m going through
or it was really bound to happen.

I have searched myself for answers
and I keep coming back to the thought of us
being just friends again.
And what a happy thought I make.
No more worries.

Maybe you would never understand
but I think the time has come for me
to open up and face the truth
that what I feel for you is not the same as before.

I admit I have changed much as you did.
I don’t think ours is a failure but more like we’re growing.
11:47 am 1/5/99

Wish

Each time I wake up,  
whether in the late mornings or early noon,
I have to tell myself not to cry nor scream 
"why am I still alive"...I am dying inside.

It's not that I am sick 
but I feel sick to get my butt off the bed 
and be a person. I am not a good person..
selfish, loathing, and full of regret.

All I ever want is to disappear, 
And to mute the Devils in my head. 
I want to free people from the burden 
of keeping me alive and lively.

Everyone says God is good, 
He will understand even though 
the people who I live for won't.

I am bound to be forgotten 
because I am cruel to myself. 
I smell death just right around the corner. 
It's just waiting for me to snap.

24Oras: Paghayag ng damdamin o adbokasiya, idinadaan sa tattoo

Watch me at 0:43 to 1:03 for my epilepsy awareness campaign tattoo.

"Peklat! Ang sarap palang magpatato!" hiyaw ni Tallulah

My first tattoo on Youtube - "Tides" by Soelag

Tattoo Artist: Myke Sambajon
Venue: P&P Tattoo, Makati

Original Artwork by Soelag
entitled "Tides" 2007,  8"x10"
Ink and Prismacolor on Acid Free Paper

In order to come up with a longer design for the back,

Soelag tweaked the design around by using Photoshop  based on the original "Tides".

My tat pain chart

I did my own stencil for this tattoo. Myke finds the details too small (I saw this one coming) and with my sly smile and nod, he so willingly let me draw my own tattoo stencil. This way the artwork remains to be redrawn by the artist himself; an utter bliss.

Special thanks to Tattoo Master Myke Sambajon of P&P Tattoo.
Also, to friend, photographer Wam Molina for his unending support, my peace and love to you!

I love my own art on my back---

Soelag, diagnosed with Bipolar 1 disorder in 2003.

to be continued---

Evening's Sorrow

Mourn...
The tears have not arrived,

I push and force the ducts
But, the meds are drying me up.

Cry...
One tear and a clogged nose.
I can't get a teardrop enough
To suffocate, hyperventilate,
Seize and eventually kill me.

Wail...

I want to wail but I can't.
The blues are kicking in.
Just about the right time, 
My kidney infection is unbearable.

Awake...


My evenings's sorrow, 
in bed crouched over to let him feel
The juice of my remaining pain,

I haven't noticed for a long time...
That I've never been hugged back.










My soul grieves.

JUST FOR FUN, Mister Wendel moons. LOL!
THIS BLOG IS JUST WAY TOO MORBID

I Fear

I fear the unknown, who doesn't?

I fear for if THESE things continue...I might split in two.

The dress came with a free fur shrug.

I was reserving it for the occasion, 
as any normal human being

wanting to meet the basic needs of men?

Or do I brave to choose 
THE REAL WORLD I LIVE IN

and knowingly be able to meet the demands

despite the complex disorders?

To feel like a robot and to believe it will all end.

I smile, though I already bought my black gown

halter-type, satin ribbon-ed, fitted 
in case it creeps back...

I look at my lava lamp

and I fear it is coming soon.

What do I do now? 

I fear to continue a normal life should be 

and continue what needs to be done to

completely explore my world and needs of men?

Not fear and not mind, 

to let people think I am abnormal,

diseased, disabled, unwell,

What are my choices here?

continue life like how people

and the norm dictates it?

I smell my death nears

should I choose that path;

Or, keep living

while bullshitting people

whom I know I taught

courtesy, patience, 

perseverance, respect, 

faith, trust, and love...

the beauty of recollection, 

reflection, and belief in oneself,

what family really is and 

what parents are all about

and how we should be made of.

Maybe because some people

can't accept I know too much for my age

and that it's unbelievable,

so I get slapped back with it.

I feel sick...I want to be BRAVE 

and embrace fear that it is part of life, 

but I want to do things in the REAL WORLD I WANT TO LIVE IN.

I BLINKED, THAT'S WHEN IT WENT WRONG

I am very sad to leave 
but at the same time I think 
it's time for me to take on another challenge. 


I may not show it much
but I am emotionally and physically drained...
it's a blow
the first time I heard I was epileptic,
it's another
to hear I am bipolar,
and it's such a bomb
to feel that in reality,
I am disabled permanently....
I keep fighting it, 
but I slump a hundred times over.


I look at all my medical records, 
piled up in front of me, heaps!
I was fooling myself the whole time. 


Blow after blow, 
I always try to keep my head up, 
but someone either pulls it back 
or pushes it down. 


I am a jokester, 
I like to stand up and leap
to test who will break the fall.
Yet, no one. 


My sickness when it strikes 
can muster a battalion, 
but a few remain to stand by me.


Life is a mystery, 
the times you trust 
are usually the times you shouldn't. 


More often, it's better 
to put your head in an empty box, 
no holes, 
you can only see your feet or chest, 
and hear yourself breathe. 
That way, you know you're still alive. 


I am putting myself in one right now...

until I feel it's ok to come out again.

Decision-maker

Have you ever been mixed up
with happiness and heaviness 
at one moment?


To place who fathered which emotion
is also one way of knowing
which part of you is working that time,
whether it was established by the brain or the heart
or perhaps in this case, maybe both.
But to decipher which is the decision-maker
happens to be the tough part in that moment of mix-up.


I am happy today, a lazy sunny Sunday.
If I should associate this happiness within my brain
It is because I am listening to my favorite tunes on the radio
It may sound cheesy, 
but I am actually a true blue jazz music fan.


I like those inconsistent 
lingering indefinite and 
where-does-this-lead-to melody and vocals. 
Tickling clickety clicks of the piano, high pitch horns,
scats, shi-shing cymbals and shakers,
tingling bells and chimes, talking acoustics,
baby-ooh-you-make-me bedroom vocals….
they really get to me.


Maybe because it’s also how I see and draw art.
Emotionally, I feel the same way.
What my brain is nibbling on, 
the jazz music flowing in my ear
that soothes my mind
and takes me back to memory lane,
tranquils my senses, 
is also the same music which fills the loss in my heart.


This music that sparks my mind to imagine
is also making my heart feel alive again.


Going back, I have never heard 
of a person whose heart can be divided,
Yet there is such a thing as divided thinking.
The mind can certainly play tricks on us, 
or in my case
my mind plays a big role
in my emotional stability.


My head still rules over my heart.
Whatever my head dictates, my heart follows.
At least that’s what I think I am doing.

A Grip of the Inevitable

When my world splits, it usually creates vibes

I am sick and I’m not ashamed to say.I am sick of everything that comes my way.No matter how hard I try, I sometimes even poke myself in the eye…just to get a grip of the inevitable, but, whoever said it’s possible.The hurt always comes in the end,
but I’m not saying I’m hurting right nowI just want to get a grip of the inevitable.I’m not sad, I’m in fact happy to have finally found you and you finding me…

But you always think I would be around to listen,
and to lull you from your woes.In fact, you know friggin' what, I’ve got more woes than you do.If there was pain between us before,I know I can block you from my mind
because I got a grip of the inevitable,

But no matter what happens from now until the next time…I always wish I can get a grip of the inevitable.
I am sick and I’m not ashamed to say.but, I am happy now so please….stay.

my brain drain

it's draining the brain
and you will never be the same
it pokes the nerves
and you only bear a curve
or a ride on the bend,
under a ledge,
locked inside a rut,
stuck beneath a drunken schmuck.

that's how it feels
just when you think the fits aren't real
my brain is static
and i wish there was magic
but the notes and the gloats
that goes on in my head
cry out pain and numbness
all at once.

how can it be?
who knows why it is so?
that is how the brain ends up
fried, boiled,
pulped, reconstituted,
then drained.


where it goes?
i don't know...
i hope the maids don't use liquid "sosa"

my brain may fry, boil,
get pulpy, reconstitute and drain itself
but it grows back
reforms itself
yet not in its original state

but i like it
i manage to cope.
as a different person
each time, each day
IT happens.

I live with my EPILEPSY, how else?

Emily Dickinson in her words: What a seizure is like

I find this amazing, this maybe to just my own understanding
But Emily's poetry belittles what I write
For hers is a vision so pure yet unconventional


Her poetry--a creation of the mind, her illusions and vivid images, neural,
true feelings of the heart, pure and possibly unaffected by the outside world




While mine are created from reality...the absurd, the harsh, the cruel and unsightly, full of angst, bitterness, striving for hope and recovery.










Here is another one, c. 1876.534 (1581)

The farthest Thunder that I heard
Was nearer than the Sky
And rumbles still, though torrid Noons
Have lain their missiles by--
The Lightning that preceded it
Struck no one but myself--
But I would not exchange the Bolt
For all the rest of Life--
Indebtedness to Oxygen
The Happy may repay,
But not the obligation
To Electricity--
It founds the Homes and decks the Days
And every clamor bright
Is but the gleam concomitant
Of that waylaying Light-
The Thought is quiet as a Flake--


A Crash without a Sound,
How Life's reverberation
Its Explanation found--


end

Emily Dickinson: an epileptic

c.1862.230 (561)
From Emily Dickinson's Poems by Thomas H. Johnson

I measure every Grief I meet

with narrow, probing, Eyes-

I wonder if It weighs like Mine-

Or has Easier size.

I wonder if They bore it long-

Or did it just begin-

I could not tell the Date of Mine-

It feels so old a pain-

I wonder it if hurts to live-

And if They have to try-

And whether- could They choose between-

It would not be- to die-

I note that Some- gone patient long-

At length, renew their smile-

An imitation of a Light

That has so little Oil-

I wonder if when Years have piled-

Some Thousands- on the Harm-

That hurt them early- such a lapse

Could give them any Balm-

Or would they go on aching still

Through Centuries of Nerve-

Enlightened to a larger Pain-

In Contrast with the Love-

The Grieved- are many- I am told-

There is the various Cause-

Death - is but one- and comes but once -

And only nails the eyes -

There's Grief of Want- and Grief of Cold-

A sort they call "Despair"-

There's Banishment from native Eyes-

In sight of Native Air-

And though I may not guess the kind-

Correctly- yet to me

A piercing Comfort it affords

in passing Calvary-

To note the fashions- of the Cross-

And how they're mostly worn-

Still fascinated to presume

That Some--are like My Own--

end

I feel for her as I feel my pains when It attacks.

I would have loved to meet Emily...an epileptic maybe, but definitely, a poet.

Emily Dickinson's Secret Life

I can't sleep

I can't trip so
who do I talk to?
I guess, with myself.

But, will myself listen
if I tell it to sleep?

Moments later...

I must be tripping.
I am talking
to, guess who, MYSELF.

But is myself listening
to what I am telling?
zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz

My Prayer on Sanctuary

Sanctuary: shelter, refuge, protection

For many days now, I feel I have coped up with my "X" factor.
That factor that has been disturbing
my elements and neurons.
One key to my coping up
is this person in my life right now,
the vital core of my existence...
crude, yet I'm still living.

I feel low and then light
yet restricted but at the same time very cared for.
I know I am very much needed,
and there are times,
I would crave to be needed more.
But, I am so afraid that if it happens, it's going to kill the excitement.

I also need him, very much like he needs me,
but where I stand right now
I feel I need more space...
then I want him to be around...always.

I am freezing at the moment.
I am stopping at this point.
From where I am, I don't know where I'm going,
but my mind is whirling.

I would like to stand clear of any thoughts
aside from what I am feeling
right at this very moment.
This is the protection I need for now.

When I say to be protected,
it's not from enemy or evil of some sort
but to feel safe inside a wall that's naked to the eye...
that's how I seem to think of it.
And, it works so much for me.

I found refuge for my situation, my thinking,
my ambitions, my joys, my craziness,
my sentiments, my heartaches,
my losses, my inhibitions, my sufferings,
my tensions...especially those what you call
"silly-why-are-you-crying" moments.

Lord God, I know it's still You that I can call
my refuge, my shelter, my home
but it's my being human that's making me think
I need something concrete
to put my head on, to hold on to, to lean on.

I am so sorry for being too dependent on people,
for thinking that I could rely on human help
rather than God help.

It's quite hard to look at something you can't see.
Although, this is what I am actually feeling with this person,
sometimes I can see through him, sometimes I don't.
He is not a "WYSIWYG".

I know it breaks Your heart for me to say this.
Forgive me if right now I have to share my time with You with him.
You are a forgiving God and eventually
You will hand over Your grace to us.

In the meantime, please let me have a taste of both worlds,
I know and You know, I still need help whichever way...

I love You and I love my GUY!

Amen.

original written by soelag 04/15/2003
re-written in dedication to my love

Soelag, 08/12/2010

I CAN'T BE FILED!

If I can remember right, I did something today
I woke up right but I ended up bent
I dressed up for work, and had net stockings on
But when I came home, they were all gone.


I sat on my chair, heard voices again
Thought it was the gremlins inside me,
Geez, it's the girl right behind me.


I call her blabber mouth or sometimes motor mouth
she has this uncanny speedy gonzales talker in her
either you hate her or you H-A-T-E her more....
I thought there was no choice
Until the angels came down from heaven
When manna falls, it pours
I even hoped that time
I should have worn a hobo skirt instead of a mini
So that I could have gathered more manna.
But the mini may have helped me
for when the doc called me in the afternoon
Did a little talking here and there
Braced myself so that I won't go weeping
about that one girl with the big mouth, the stressor,
the trigger, and the auditory stimulus
of my temporal lobe activity.
A filing room---considered first for me to sit in
as my workstation, I could try I said but I also don't think
it's suitable considering the first thing my head
would hit is a steel cabinet.


I can't believe it but the manna was the
ISO back up, medical advise, THE
hope that no one interferes, STILL a big unsure smile
and SOON a suitable workroom full of quiet and peace.
Aside from all these, I did sorts of things today
Which I need not mention
One thing is important
My work is done for now...EPILEPSY...is not a joke.


You trigger it, you poke it, you jiggle it, you choke it,
I joke if I can take it or I croak.
For me, it's not a matter of choice anymore,
but a matter of luck.


NOW, NOBODY CAN FILE ME!

I desire

I desire to be nice
I desire to do good
I desire to be kind
yet, I desire to be rude.

I desire to live happy
I desire to gab
I desire to be groovy
yet, I desire to be rad.

I desire to live how I want
I desire to see it to be
I desire to grow old
yet, I desire not to flee.

I ache that I desire all these
that may or may not come true
for only time and love will bring bliss
to this life I try to fizz.

My Prayer on Remembering

To remember is to recall, reminisce, relive; bear in mind; recollect; treasure; memorize

To be blessed with a good memory, to be able to recall exactly everything, to recollect and reminisce the happy times and learning times that has come to pass and be able to relish them again and again...is one true gift from God.

Sofitel Philippine Plaza on my 41st birthday

Lord, I pray that my memory stays as clear as crystal, as accurate as a ruler, as intense as like being read from a journal and as vivid as it is happening in the present...not like yesterday...but like today. (Such high hopes but that is what I wish for.) Amen.

originally written 02-10-2003

My little fairytale story just ended tonight

And I am enveloped in this dreadful feeling of anguish
Which I have perfectly avoided for so long a time
There was one time I almost forgot how to cry
For then I can only stare and feel nothing

Drowned by other people’s furor or sentiments
Then there was a time my world just looked all peachy and sunny blue
Because I saw the days more than speak it
And discovered I can draw strength in spectating and paying heed

There were oodles of time that I had peace and shared it with intent
Because I preferred to say no with a smile
Acted patiently with vocation, ardor, and less want for recognition

You ask now, “so what is eating you, Millet?”
“What is this predicament you are in?”
“Why all this fussy emotions when you know you can do better than mope?”
Because my fairytale story ended up lopsided, and practically bored me to death.

It is not worth telling nor is it worth remembering…
I stunk and the director called it quits!
Poor mushy mushy me…this is not a slight disturbance
But who gives a damn now?

I know I am not all right, not OK.
I am sad and moping, but I am strong.

Once the sting is no longer a sting, and turns into a sore, breaks into a wound,
and just before you end up mutilated with excruciating pain…
your whole system shaken…and right in the nick of time,
moments after you said “I can’t take it anymore!” because you feel all hell broke loose…

Then…there is a fading noise…none…perfect silence…numb…
Whether the story ends totally or just for tonight, or continues tomorrow
Who knows? Who wants to know? As I said, I bored myself to death.

I Feel Neither by Soelag

I feel neither…love nor hate

but I feel a bite on my heart

and some emptiness inside.

It’s an empty you can’t fill.

A gap that doesn’t match up to a piece

A void that cannot exist, even the letters v-o-i-d

Because it is the heart that’s seeing,

It is the heart that pounds

But this heart is not speaking.

Should I falter now? It asks itself.

Is it time to let go of what was thought to

hold so much meaning, of what built the core of any being?

Yet, tell me, who can take a blame

For something you haven’t done.

You can’t be somebody you are not.

You can’t live in anybody else’s

shadow that lived in the past.

It’s not me you are watching

Not me you need…

it’s someone you can’t get over.

Perhaps that can cure what ails you.

Whatever it is…if I can’t be the answer

Then why do I have to stay

When there is no need for me.

Look at what you are doing to me,

Taking the smile out of my world.

Instead of sharing my feelings,

You break.

Where does this lead?

I feel a void and my spirit can’t be lifted up…