Memories

Memories are our most powerful assets and nothing can stop them when they appear.  Sometimes they say, “Hi,” and sometimes they pull a Samuel L. Jackson and say, “SURPRISE MOTHERFUCKER!”

Embrace

We have all had someone in our lives that we loved dearly and they have been taken away from us.  The memory of them is strong and time can not take that away.

Family

For some reason family can be cruel.  If they are related to you then the bite always stings worse.  No matter how much you tell yourself you don’t care what others think, family can still find a wound and rip it wide open.

Prisoner of Depression

No one wakes up thinking, “I’m going to be depressed today.”  It just hits you unexpected and when depression does hit this is what it feels like.

Lies

When I say I’m fine doesn’t always mean I’m actually fine. I just don’t know to explain what I’m feeling yet.

Robin Williams

1982 Warner Bros Pictures

On August 11, 2014, I lost a personal true hero, Robin Williams.  While the word HERO may mean different things to different people, to me, Robin was a True Hero.

Tears Of A Clown

I am not the type of person who really cares for celebrities.  I’ve met a few and they are just regular people like you and me.  For that reason I do not go out of my way to bother them.  I will just shake their hand, say hello, and move on.  With that said there are only a handful of people that if I ever met, I would want to take a picture with them and have a conversation, a chance to pick their brain.  They are Danny Glover, Morgan Freeman, George Noory, Erich von Däniken, and Robin Williams.

Sadly, I must cross a name off that list now.  I am sadden that I never was able to meet this beautiful genius but I rejoice in his much deserved peace.  While everyone else was in shock and sad when hearing of his passing my first thought was that he is no longer suffering.  This is what came from that first thought.

“My favorite actor died today. His soul was in a constant state of civil war. The war is over now. You found the strength to win it. I salute you Sir. Rest in peace until your next life.”

Robin Williams brought joy to a lot of people.  He made us laugh, cry, and sometimes creeped us out.  As I said, he was a genius and while he could bring joy to the masses he suffered in silence for much too long.  Sadly most people do not realize that, to quote the song, “there’s nothing sadder than, the tears of a clown.”

Hidden Tears

There was always pain in his eyes when he smiled,

But he made you laugh so you didn’t look.

His soul was being tortured,

But he endured the pain so you didn’t have to.

He was surround by millions,

But inside he was always alone.

He had a big heart,

But for him it was never enough.

He wore the badge of a clown,

To hide the tears inside.

He roared with laughter,

To keep his demons at bay.

He will always be my hero,

Even though he has gone away.

- Max M. Power

My Demon Tried Killing Me Last Night

Your demons are just that, yours.  No one can fight them for you, just be there to support you as you do battle. Demons are evil and they fight very dirty. This is one of my battles.

My Demon Tried Killing Me Last Night

My demon tried killing me again last night.  For some reason I was at a station waiting to depart LaLa Land, as I call it.  I took my seat and off we went through the wall of Reality but after breaking through the haze I was back in the parking lot, trying to get back inside the station.

This continued over and over.  Each time it happened I felt more confused and scared than the time before.  The air was cold and reeked of fear.  A dark cloud of anger hovered over the station.

As I walked back through the doors the people in the station were becoming clearer, they were my family, each giving me a look of utter disgust.  Ready to lash out at me and rip me limb from limb.

Each time I walked back in a new family member would appear, adding to the negativeness, their anger crushing my chest like a soda can in their hands.  Meer whispers escaping their lips, unheard by me but sharp enough to quickly cut as I passed by.

The more family member that joined, the louder they became, and I could finally hear their whispers calling for my death.  Those that were closest to me in life where telling me the loudest that I should just die already.  Everyone’s life would be better off if I went through that haze and never returned.  Each time I returned disappointment clearly visible in their eyes.

It was so overwhelming the last time I walked into the station that I ran straight for the platform to depart through the haze once more, hoping it would be the last time.  On the track I had seen my youngest niece dancing in her white dress with the pink bow, without a care in the world.  I smiled, finally, a family member not wishing me dead.

I called out to her and as in life she did not head my calls.  I could see a light coming toward her and I called for her to get off the track, my words falling on the deaf ears of a child.  I moved to pull her to safety and she pushed to escape my arms.

“You’re going to die,” is all I heard her say before everything went dark.

I looked above me and could see a face with large black glasses staring back at me.  Its mouth wide open, as if laughing, but now sound coming forward.  The face came into focus and I could see the face of my daughter’s stuffed nerd Bugs Bunny.

“Scream,” it demanded, without warning, in a dark cold voice.

I complied.

“Scream,” it demanded louder, harsher.

Again I complied as my heart began to beat faster, an invisible hand pulling it slowly out of my chest.

“SCREAM,” its eyes turning blood red, telling me I was about to die.

I complied once more as my body was being shaken.  Light began to break through the darkness and I could see the world around me coming into focus.  I was awake, fully awake, yet my body was still immobile, frozen from fear, my heart pounding so hard it was cracking my ribs.

“SCREAM,” came the voice one last time as I looked up into the ceiling and seen the face laughing before flying off into the corner, disappearing up into drywall.

- Max M. Power

I Am Bipolar

“Now there’s some sad things known to man

But ain’t too much sadder than
the tears of a clown
When there’s no one around” – Smokey Robinson

When I first heard those lyrics they did nothing for me.  Just another oldies song from my parents’ youth that I enjoyed.  Of course I was too young to understand what those words actually meant. 

My parents did the best they could at the time, I do realize that now.  Having to raise six kids not everyone was going to get equal attention.  By the time I was old enough to start helping out around the house my three older siblings were out on their own which left me as the oldest in the house.

My little brother and I were as opposite as could be.  On the surface I was the calm one and he was super hyper.  We also had nephews who were just as wild as the Tasmanian Devil.  To say we pushed my mother to the edge of breaking would be an understatement.  My mother was strong enough to endure the stress we caused her, however, I can not say the same for one of my favorite aunts.

All I knew was that she was “sick” and we should pray for her.  My mother had told me that she had enough problems with those younger than me so I wasn’t allowed to have problems.  I was the good child and I needed to help her.  I love my mother so of course I said yes.  Now the meaning of the lyrics became clear to me.

I became that clown.  My grandmother use to say, “Laughter is the best medicine.”  My family loves to laugh and I figured if I could be the cause of that laughter it could serve as medication for me as well.

Even though I was surrounded by people I often felt alone.  I felt I did not fit into my own family.  For years, once I found out what it meant, I actually thought I was adopted because I was so different.

When everyone wanted to run around and play outside, I wanted to sit and read a book.  When it rained and everyone complained about the weather I loved it and would be out in it if I could.  Everyone else could sleep for hours and I could never sleep longer than four hours.

I learned to burry my feelings deep inside.  I kept them bottled up as I projected a happy persona to the world.  I was helping.  My mother never had to worry about me, I took care of myself as well as those I was responsible for, my younger siblings, my nieces and nephews.  As the years went on the list grew and I was willing to do it if it meant keeping my mother sane.

Upon entering high school, unknown to anyone, I had attempted to kill myself three times, thinking the world would be a better place without me in it and no one would notice anyway.  As tough as I pretended to be on the outside, inside I was a coward.  Make no mistake, unless you have been to that point, you have no idea what real strength it takes to follow through on the act of suicide.  For those brave enough to succeed, I feel at peace for them, their suffering is no more.

Because I became an expert in hiding my feelings I was able to spot others attempting to do the same.  I knew what they were feeling and wanted them to know they were not alone.  I became a shoulder to cry on, and ear to talk to, a hand to pull them back from the ledge.  Helping others, all the while, unable to help myself, living in a constant state of fear.

That deep cold dark fear exist to this day.  After everything I’ve been through from those days to now, learning that I have clinical depression and bipolar disorder, learning how to control it, without medication, I thought I had overcome that fear.  One night, during a family discussion, I found out that that cold overwhelming fear never goes away.

A family friend had mention that his mother and sister has bipolar.  It was stated by my family that if someone who has bipolar is not taking medication then they are a danger to themselves and others.  When I heard that my stomach dropped to floor and an ice cold chill ran up my spine.  Fear wrapped around me and bundled me tightly in its grasp.  I was afraid, genially afraid in the one place I should have felt safe, surround by the people I should never fear.

My life from childhood to present flashed before my eyes in an instant, fear threatening to consume me.  Suddenly anger took over, quickly burning away that fear.  I was ready to explode, but that was due to having anger issues that is deeply rooted in my family.  I was ready to fight, a product of both sides of my parent’s families.  I was being pulled in many different directions, a product of my bipolar.  All of this in a time span of five seconds.

“I have bipolar,” I found myself saying.  “And I don’t take medication for it.”

Silence filled the air briefly then the conversation continued on, with me sitting back not saying another word on the subject.  It took three days for that fear to subside but I realized that it’s still there, lingering in the shadows of my mind, never to leave me.  I took a deep breath and a few other realizations came to me.

I know that some people do need medication, they can not function without it.  Others, however, do not.  It’s easier to take the medication and go through life without seeing the real world around you but what kind of life is that?

I am friends with both types of bipolar.  One needs the medication.  I can tell when it’s not taken because there is a slight change in attitude and while most people will never see that change, it’s clear to me as night and day.

Another friend was in that state of the world passing by.  Trusting the doctor, medication that was not needed was being taken.  Just like any dependency, there were withdraws as they slowly came off the meds, having them reduced.  It was an adjustment but a weight was being lifted as they understood they were not alone when they needed to weather a storm.

Either option does not take away the fear we live with.  Will those I love understand when I say I’m bipolar or will they look at me like the monster I know myself to be?  Will those I interact with daily treat me differently, afraid themselves of what they do not understand?  Worst yet, will I be taken away somewhere, locked up like a caged animal, no longer a human being?

These fears are very real for us but another thing I realized, we need to educate non M.I.s about our condition.  We do not need to live in fear because living in fear is not living at all.

Whatever your M.I. do not keep it to yourself, tell someone.  Talk about it, answer questions they may have.  You will feel a huge weight lifted if you do.  I know it’s hard, it’s hard for me, but we can do it.  I’m tired of living in fear, aren’t you?

- Max M. Power