halfway to the dairy farm

You are poetry--
your words distilled,
your personality fiery 
with a fierceness
that I both love
and fear. 

Elusive, I find you 
in the briefest moment
between sunset and full dark
when the sky's inky violet. 

Far off down 
my one lane country road,
a pair of headlights
comes careening. 

I step off to the side
step into the rows of corn
and hide until the lights
flash by me, 
standing in the high corn
until my eyes readjust
and I hear the car
backfire as it rides the bend. 

I'm halfway to the dairy farm
a mile down the road.
The sycamores are white as bone. 
Above and between them, 
bats slash the summer air 
with their chaotic flight,
diving and twirling 
dark shadows that dip 
too close about my head. 

It is summer and you, 
you are oil to my water, 
rising--always rising
above.
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a coping skills kinda day

Sometimes it feels like the Bipolar is destroying me. 
Sometimes it feels like I'm losing all control. 
Today is one of those days. 

I'm on medication, which has been (literally) lifesaving. 
I've gone from sleepless nights and long manic trips 
followed by debilitating bouts with depression 
to a more mellow, more leveled out kind of me. 

Lately, however, it feels like the Bipolar is winning. 
I think it may be time to adjust my medication again, 
because the insomnia's getting worse, 
and I feel like I'm losing myself, 
losing the good parts of me under all the tension, 
the anxiety, the frustration and the roller coaster moods. 

When things are stable, when I feel more in control, 
I'm not so angry and irritable, not so mad at life, 
not so jealous of people who aren't Bipolar I, 
people who don't have to fight the demons I have to. 

I want to be able to be both stable and passionate, 
both emotional and in control. What I don't know 
is if that is even possible. I heard somewhere 
that living with Bipolar I requires a lifetime 
of tweaking the medication, of going to therapy, 
of avoiding triggers and trying to be healthy. 

I suppose, for me, that's been true. I was diagnosed
years ago, and I've been going to therapy religiously, 
taking my medication mostly non-sporadically, 
seeing my psych on a regular basis and refraining
from indulging in any number of things that trigger
episodes-- things like casual sex or drinking. 

I suppose I just needed to get some of this gunk 
out of my mind. I needed to put down in words 
that I'm irritated, that I'm frustrated, 
that I struggle to feel like I'm an okay person  
when the moods make me feel like I'm failing, 
like I'm always on the edge about to fall off. 

Today is a coping skills kinda day, 
a day when I screen my phone calls and order out, 
a day when I try my damnedest to be gentle with myself. 

It's going to be okay. I'm not suicidal. 
That's always a plus. I'll pull it together, 
and go back to my usual zany self. 
But right now? Right now I am going to curl up 
with some music and lock myself
away from the world for a while.