leave us alone in our caves

i’m not in the mood to post

i’m in the mood to write this

you know that feeling…

too sensitive to live

not necessarily depressed…

too close for comfort

could be

but like a mist…a haze has descended

almost like the seasons change to Fall

funny that the word is Fall

fall

We know all about falling

the feeling of burrowing

hiding

needing to go in

unseen

alone

this isn’t that pain I am always talking about

this is just a feeling

a turning inward

a wanting to rest

rest

rest

not physically

or mentally

or even emotionally but that’s closer

just rest

plain

too tired

tired in the spirit

tired of holding it all

fatigued by the daily

daily

the constant

the incessantness of it

.

We want to hide from Bipolar

but Bipolar is inside

so we try

and hide

burrow

deep

away

from anything

that might

hurt

you

.

because you

know

the hurts

come stronger

and harder

in these “moods”

with no shield

no skin

out of nowhere

out of anywhere

.

let me enclose myself off from the world

let me marinate in nothingness for awhile

i’m calm

almost cozy

here

in my cave

sometimes what helps the heart

is not

nature walks

and gratitude journals

and inspirational sayings

and friends

sometimes what helps the heart

is to shield it from hurt

all hurt

hurt unassumed

hurt unexpected

hurt unintended

and therefore

avoid everything….

.

for as long as it takes

.

or as long as you can

.

replenishing in the quiet nothing

replenishing in the tears of a Bipolar life

sitting in the pain with no struggle

can be the relief and release

that allows

us

to venture back into the world

once our armored mood

returns

.

so don’t always push us up and out of our pain

our burrows

our caves

don’t always assume what we need to do is be out…

in sunshine

in life

.

you’re wrong

sometimes

the

dark

cave

saves

us

.

strengthens our armor.

12 comments

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  1. AndrewS

    Forgive the length of this poem, but your post immediately called it to my mind, and it fits quite beautifully. Feel free to delete if too long.

    A Drumlin Woodchuck (Robert Frost)

    One thing has a shelving bank,
    Another a rotting plank,
    To give it cozier skies
    And make up for its lack of size.

    My own strategic retreat
    Is where two rocks almost meet,
    And still more secure and snug,
    A two-door burrow I dug.

    With those in mind at my back
    I can sit forth exposed to attack
    As one who shrewdly pretends
    That he and the world are friends.

    All we who prefer to live
    Have a little whistle we give,
    And flash, at the least alram
    We dive down under the farm.

    We allow some time for guile
    And don’t come out for a while
    Either to eat or drink.
    We take occasion to think.

    And if after the hunt goes past
    And the double-barreled blast
    (Like war and pestilence
    And the loss of common sense),

    If I can with confidence say
    That still for another day,
    Or even another year,
    I will be there for you, my dear,

    It will be because, though small
    As measured against the All,
    I have been so instinctively thorough
    About my crevice and burrow.

    Liked by 2 people

    • bipolarfirst

      Andrew! You think I would delete Robert Frost? What do you take me for?!? Some savage?!

      I so appreciate the addition of it here. I love the way our minds spin out and around each others words and together and bring new insights and experiences to the initial ideas

      Liked by 3 people

    • lolabipola

      That’s beautiful Andrew! I really should get into some poetry. I was put off when I was in high school coz I just didn’t “get it”… I think I get a lot more now in my 40’s 😉

      Liked by 2 people

      • AndrewS

        I have my periods of enthusiasm and evasion. Just make sure to roll it on your tongue! Much more pleasure when you suck the honey of words and find the iambic flow!

        Liked by 1 person

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