Bipolarly

Sometimes it's hard to breathe, to adjust, to matter. I hear voices from the past in hues I've never known. I try to make sense of it all. And it's no use. No use.

I miss Daddy. I miss so many people, dead and alive. I miss who I used to be, and I miss who I want to be. I feel like I'm tethering in between, so close and yet so far away. I wish I could make sense of that as well.

I drink a lot. Not to get drunk, not to feel numb, but to remember. There are parts of me and my life floating here and there and I just want to make them stay, just a little bit longer. All I feel is grief, sober or not. But to make those lovely parts stay just so, that is what I want most of all.

I choose God when I have nothing left. I choose God when I have plenty. I choose God, but I also choose little human ways to deal with the pain. I'm not altogether centered. The intentions are pure, but the faith is failing. I choose to keep on when I feel like giving up. This is something at least.

I try to be a good mother, but I fail. I love so hard and so deep, and yet it doesn't transform into the right actions. I give too little, when all I want is to give everything I have. Why is this so hard for me?

I miss that little part of childhood when things were simple. I was loved by parents, by pets, by little childhood friends. And then I got older, and all those things seemed more complex and conditional. Why does this still make me cry?