Sometimes I think my heart is way too big and will break

Sometimes I think my heart is too big and will break. I care too much and worry too much about people. I cannot help it, I have been this way since childhood.

In real life (I hate that term) I have two good friends in the hospital. Each has their own demons they need to sort out, and hopefully things will be OK. One of these friends I am optimistic over, she is a warm, caring person, and I know once they figure out things with her, she will be back on her feet. The other friend, is someone with a history of illegal drug use, and in and out of rehab and NA. I am his sponsor from NA- even though I am sort of in AA. The good news is he hit rock bottom, and realizes this is his last chance to get clean and sober. The bad news is- he, like me, almost and should have died when he hit bottom recently.

His best friend suicided in September. I think my friend has a guardian angel.


The only real good news I had this week was a friend from real life/blogosphere is taking his relationship to the "next level" with his girlfriend, an I am so happy for them. They are both wonderful people.


In cyberspace- the friends I have made- many seem to be struggling Some of it is seasonal, overwhelmed by the holidays, their families, holiday commitments One just lost a parent. Having. Not enough money to pay some bills, scrimping here and there. (I can relate to that last one)> And some of it is malignant, stories that will break your heart in two and tear it asunder.


Some blogger friends I have had to read only cursory, because of my mental health. It doesn't mean I don't love them, it means reading about their pain, makes me sad, then I cry, or worse, I resort to going to bed , trying to get the cat to snuggle with me for comfort, or if that doesn't work, grab the pillow and cradle it like a friend or a lover, wetting it softly with my tears.


I try to write, I have a couple of paying writing proposals in the hopper- and my pen is dry. I don't usually get writer's block this bad. In fact, I only did 5K words this year in NaMoWriMo, which is the worst I have done since 2000, when I first started participating.

I don't know if all this lead to a change in my meds- or I am still feeling the residuals from being ill and near death this Spring. It might be both. I know lately I have been having migraines that are so bad, I want to put a screwdriver in my head and tear out my brain stem. I know it's from a side effect from my current med cocktail. I also know it is scary because the people I love the most want to declare me non compos mentis, and place me in a group home. In fact, I am set to tour said group home later today.

I haven't shared that with anyone. I don't think it will happen now- they are safeguarding their bets for a few years from now. And that scares me because I have always been independent, and even when this bipolar illness rendered me homeless, living in an a 86 Datsun and taking showers and the battered women's shelter- I still fought back and got back on my feet. It just gets harder each day- some days I want to just stay in bed, pull the covers up over my head and be like the cat and sleep 20 hours a day.


I look at the evening news, and lately have to turn it off. I don't understand how people murder people. Yes, I've read Cleckley, Samenow, et al.. and wish we were more like cats- who kill for different reasons. Those reasons I understand, yet, if my cat was an indoor/outdoor cat and presented me with a mouse, I may not be too understanding at that moment.

I don't understand how people could keep on shopping after they crushed a man to death on Black Friday, and I don't understand how a suicide in Philadelphia, could have people cavalierly taking pictures of a broken body with their cell phones instead of calling 911 first.

I don't want to understand. I want to keep my childlike innocence that people are intrinsically good, Clarence is my guardian angel, and it's a wonderful life. "Everything was beautiful and nothing hurt", said Billy Pilgrim in "Slaughterhouse Five".

But for now all I can do is try to stop this headache from turning into a migraine, take two aspirin, and crawl back to bed, minus one cat. So ends tonight's dark night of the soul.