I have been diagnosed with Bipolar Disorder and an anxiety disorder. I have a long history of self-harm and suicidal tendencies. I am a survivor of domestic abuse. But more important than that, my name is Rachel. Wife to a supportive husband and mother to a beautiful toddler. I like painting watercolors because I find it relaxing. I love writing poetry because putting my feelings on paper is healing. When my mental illness was at it’s worst, I wasn’t able to appreciate these things about myself. I couldn’t appreciate anything about myself, the good or the bad. I hid my mental illness for far too long and in doing so, I gave it power over me.

But since September 2013, I have slowly been taking back control. I got the help I needed and through working with a psychiatrist I trust, medications and therapy, I am slowly but surely learning how to live a happy, peaceful life. Living with mental illness is an ongoing battle for me, but I know it’s worth fighting.

I have since opened up my life to the world around me. I have come out about my my illness and my struggles to those around me and people have, in general, received it very well. I’ve even had some people open up to me about their struggles and I’ve been honored that they feel safe in opening up to me. I think everyone should feel safe opening up about mental illness without fear of being judged or stigma. The goal of my blog is to write, mostly poetry, that gives insight into my mind as someone who lives with Bipolar Disorder, etc. I want to let others know they are not alone and maybe open up the conversation for those who don’t understand mental illness. In all, I want to reduce the stigma and help others.

The Seed

I couldn’t sleep.
My mind was on fire.
Scrolling through images
where death is a desire.

The hurt I used to know so well
flared up as I read their pain.
I remember what that felt like
when I thought I was insane.

So I spent hours and hours
spreading words of support and hope.
Sharing the story of my recovery
and ideas on how to cope.

I begged that they reach out
and get the help they need.
I may not have changed their lives
but I hope I planted the seed.

Normal

On days like today
I dream of being “normal”.
A “normal” woman,
a “normal” life,
with a “normal” family.
A “normal” body,
a “normal” brain,
with “normal” memories.

On days like this
I wonder what “normal” is
and if it’s really worth wishing for.
The hardships and strife
of this abnormal life
have made me strong
even when I was at my weakest.

Today I’ll take abnormal.

Run

Hello there, old friend.
I hear you whispering again.
You drag your nails across my arm
and promise me you mean no harm.
You promise my aching heart relief
but I remember you, I remember the grief.
You would hand me the blade.
and smile darkly as each cut was made.
You provoke me with twisted realities
and discount my mere mortality.
I feel you fight for control over me,
to flay my flesh and make me bleed.
“I only want the best for you.”
“Let go, release, it’s the thing to do.”
But you will ravage my soul no more.
My body shall speak of life, not war.
I know our battle is far from done
but for tonight, I suggest you run.

Survival