Hello
Follow on Bloglovin
awnpsubsrcibe

awnpsurvivebanner
Blogger Badge
awnpblogflai

awnpcomeplay
SheBlogs Media
addydaddyblogdesignss

The Piece I Never Knew Existed

 

I never thought that the girl, who frequently tripped over her squeaky clean shoes as she ran to trauma, would become a writer.

Unfortunate circumstances hijacked the course that I had intended to go in life. Every day I struggled to regain control and every day I felt my hope being ripped apart by the seemingly constant push of death and pull of being alive. More often than not, I thought of letting go; dissolve into nothingness. It was but a sick fantasy of mine as I drove through intersections, stood dangerously close to edges, walked across the street, to be rid of the pain.

My first book

My first book

I had the hardest time opening up to my psychiatrist to begin with and to tell him how excited I felt when I thought of death was a secret I wouldn’t divulge for months. That, along with intense rage, anxiety, paranoia, they had nowhere to go. They were stuck in the confines of my mind. I needed to let them go. So I wrote.

I stabbed emotionally charged words onto paper, giving my agony a mother f*cking voice to be reckoned with. It gave me power over the purgatory as I told it how much I hated what it stole from me. I wrote notes to my family and to myself that promised I would fight until my soul bled smiles instead of tears.

The satisfaction that came with writing was the best therapy I had and still is.

And cookies, hugs from my boys, my dog refraining from eating dirty underwear for at least a day, friends who bring the funny, good music, drugs and sunshine and unicorn farts.

I am not sure if I really remember having a quiet mind where the thoughts waxed and waned just how it should. Normal I suppose. My bipolar mind however, runs as erratic as my moods. It races with brilliant thoughts that fly from one to the next when I’m hypomanic* and it stands still in the middle of the stagnant dark ones when I’m depressed.

“How can you write during times like that?” I’m asked time and time again.

It’s because I fight past the chaos so that I can listen to the tune that my heart is beating to.

Being mindful, ever present, I notice all the delicate beauty around me and the cloudy air that can smother it. It’s the connection of the emotions in that exact moment in which I experience them, that fills in the sentences of my pieces.

It’s like a valve that opens and allows the pain to flow.

It’s the art of setting it free, even if it’s only for a short while.

Writing is my control over what is trying to kill me.

camping9.jpg

Life has been rough these last few years, but in that, I have found pieces of myself that I never knew existed.

And I kind of like her.

I do mourn from time to time of the Kimberly I think I’ve lost. I could have still been running up and down the halls of the ER. I could have shot out seven kids by now. I could have. I could have. I could have.

But when I look at the Kimberly now in the mirror cursing Lithium for birthing zits on my face, I see a fighter, survivor, sometimes broken but with pretty hair…

And a writer.

My hair is so pretty that this clown can't help himself from staring boobies.

My hair is so pretty that this clown can’t help himself from staring at my boobies.

 

*That post exactly exemplifies my hypomania. What the hell was I thinking? Purple pants?

Related Posts with Thumbnails
If you enjoyed this post, please consider leaving a comment or subscribing to the RSS feed to have future articles delivered to your feed reader.

43 comments to The Piece I Never Knew Existed

  • Kir

    love. you.
    and so proud and selfishly happy that I have your words to read.
    You make a difference.
    xxo

    [Reply]

    Kimberly Reply:

    @Kir, So you do friend. The way you write just makes me want to fly over to “Merica and give you a kiss. Your talent blows me away. I wish that I had the gift like you to do fiction. xoxo

    [Reply]

  • Kim

    I’m happy that you write because your writing is beautiful and funny and REAL!!! I’m sorry that you have had to give some things up but I hope that writing helps you gain new things every day!!

    [Reply]

    Kimberly Reply:

    @Kim, It sure does. I am filling the holes that I thought I’d lost and replacing them with things that pull me through.
    PS. I am so behind in life and be prepared for a mass reading of your amazing posts and my jealousy of your physical abilities :)

    [Reply]

  • I don’t know the Kimberly that you have lost.
    I do know this Kimberly an she is awesome,
    and a very gifted writer.

    [Reply]

    Kimberly Reply:

    @Mirjam, And I met you my jammie pants….one of the best things ever xoxo

    [Reply]

  • ******giving my agony a mother f*cking voice to be reckoned with. It gave me power over the purgatory as I told it how much I hated what it stole from me. I wrote notes to my family and to myself that promised I would fight until my soul bled smiles instead of tears.****

    The Kimberly you think you’ve lost still exists, still breathes, still has a powerful mother f*cking voice, still lives inside.

    This is the Kimberly w/ ROOTS & Compassion & HOPE.

    LOVE love love your VOICE))))) xxxxxxx

    [Reply]

    Kimberly Reply:

    @My Inner Chick, I hope that you know that your heart and soul that explodes through your words, is an inspiration to me. You make me want to push the boundaries and let it all go, whether people like it or not…be real…and I love you for that. xoxo

    [Reply]

  • Janet

    What you wrote here perfectly and beautifully expresses what I wrote you the other day – that you have profound hope and a fierce life force deep down, and these are what keep you rising, always rising, above your depression – or on really bad days, treading water, rather than go under –

    Janet
    xoxox

    [Reply]

    Kimberly Reply:

    @Janet, I’ve also learned how to become an amazing swimmer and I am applying for the Olympic team. Kidding kidding. Writing has been my saving grace. It doesn’t come from a pill bottle…and I hope that others find that something something too to pour their soul into when it is eating them inside.
    PS…sorry for the late responses!!! I’ve been reading all of your comments and as always, you bring a huge dose of hope and happy xoxo

    [Reply]

  • You’re an incredible writer, and I’m ecstatic that you’ll be reading your words on stage!

    [Reply]

    Kimberly Reply:

    @Greta, OMG how excited am I? Very.

    [Reply]

  • I love this, I know the feeling of more of this than I’d like to admit. But writing helps me so much, too. Also, the post about the purple pants? Hilarious.

    [Reply]

    Kimberly Reply:

    @Jessica, Oh them purple pants. True story. I have no idea why anyone would make purple pants.
    Writing has been one of the best therapies that doesn’t come from a bottle…if you know what I mean.

    [Reply]

  • I love that you found the writer hidden deep within. How lucky for us all. I think many writers, to varying degrees, write to stave off the chaos in our minds. I wonder what that is. Heart you. xoxo

    [Reply]

    Kimberly Reply:

    @Deb @ Urban Moo Cow, I wonder that too. I think blog writers in general. Like what made us decide to take our hearts and throw it on the internet? My friends still don’t get it. xoxo

    [Reply]

  • Darling PrettyHairGirl

    You’re so full of life, even if what you’re doing is (in a way) living in an AC/DC of Life Amplified and Dimmed, and the writing you weave is like pinning smoke to the walls, but you do it beautifully.

    And in doing, you follow those golden threads of mind and hang onto them, and let them glimmer and guide you through the fog.

    Because for each cloud, there’s sunshine and blue skies above – it’s the scrambling through which is the challenge. And yet, the sunshine’s helping from the other side, to burn away those vapours and let you be free.

    Life is too short and incredibly too long to go chasing away after the shoulda coulda woulda. And anyway, I like the girl you found. And I don’t stand alone in that opinon.

    Keep writing YOU.

    [Reply]

    Kimberly Reply:

    @Considerer, Lizzie, this needs to be in a Hallmark card. So incredibly beautiful. Follow those golden threads…thank you. You truly are an inspiration to me. You keep me striving to write more from my heart xoxo

    [Reply]

  • You spun my head around knocked my socks off once again, Kimberly. LOL…unicorn farts. I’m adding that to my own puppies and rainbows world. You are doing amazing and continue to cause me to pause for my own self-reflection.

    “It’s because I fight past the chaos so that I can listen to the tune that my heart is beating to” I literally just printed that sentence out with your name and have it by my computer desk. Totally resonated with me.

    Hugs, our friend! :)

    [Reply]

    Kimberly Reply:

    @Mike, I hope that it didn’t knock you into a grocery shelf … muwhahahah

    [Reply]

  • It’s perfect. And I relate very much. It’s not the magic pill I want it to be (and nothing really is) but I think without writing, I shudder to think about how else I’d have to cope with anxiety.

    [Reply]

    Kimberly Reply:

    @Tamara, If there was a magic pill, I’d be more famous than Oprah. Kidding. It is so therapeutic.
    I hope that you’re doing well. I have so much catching up to do in the blogsphere as you can tell by me responding to comments like 10 years after the fact…so be prepared for some serious blog stalking. muwhahahah xoxo

    [Reply]

  • I wouldn’t wish what you’ve been through on anyone, including you. But your writing, and I’ve said this before, is amazing. You are so, so strong and talented.

    [Reply]

    Kimberly Reply:

    @Ally, THank you so much Ally. I often wonder if I would have ever picked up a pen if this didn’t happen. My doc asked me if I knew that I could write and honestly, I didn’t. Although I aced in English but that was boring :) I have so much catching up to do lady and I hope that you are well! xox

    [Reply]

  • The Kimberly you are now? Is amazing and strong and brave. Love you.

    [Reply]

    Kimberly Reply:

    @Alison, I love you too for sticking with my crazy then not crazy then whoa “she thinks that there are cameras in lawn ornaments” and then not…LOL..xoxo

    [Reply]

  • This is so awesome. I am glad writing has been so helpful for you — it does pull us into the present moment… it’s funny how we start to write one thing and as we write, we discover more and discover what we see and think, and see all the beauty around us. Gorgeous post.

    [Reply]

    Kimberly Reply:

    @Sarah @ Left Brain Buddha, It is an amazing gift we have. I think we notice more and appreciate more and look for inspiration in every day life so that we can share what we experienced. Writing is powerful stuff yo!

    [Reply]

  • I think about the times that have been the darkest for me, and they’re the ones in which my voice is the loudest. Not my real voice, because OFCOURSE I will just say what should be said, and do what should be done (maybe, sometimes to the should), and my writing voice is at it’s best. Sometimes, when all is fine, rarely, and almost never, I miss the sad desperate me because she’s such a better writer. Fucked up, huh? I love the writer you, and the real you, and all of the yous inbetween. Also, if I had a choice between looking at your hair and your boobs? Hard call, that one, sistah. Hard call. xoxo

    [Reply]

    Kimberly Reply:

    @Kristi Campbell, I. TOTALLY. GET. THAT! I find that my writing is so much more heartfelt when I’m feeling like suck. That is not weird at all. In fact, I don’t know anyone who feels this way. Whew…so I’m not looney :) xoox

    [Reply]

  • “It’s because I fight past the chaos so that I can listen to the tune that my heart is beating to.”

    Yes. That.

    [Reply]

    Kimberly Reply:

    @Leighann, And I listen to you because you love me and call me snickerdoodle.

    [Reply]

  • I find that writing was always VERY therapeutic for me. When I would be depressed it was these immense feelings of loneliness and nothingness that consumed me. Writing made me feel less alone, that somehow I had this voice, this other. This character of myself that I could write that would try and heal all the broken that was coming from the person dropping tears on the keyboard. And my writing was always very dark, but always had a glimmer of happily ever after at the end.

    I’m glad that you’re loving this version of you, and yes your hair is FABULOUS.

    [Reply]

    Kimberly Reply:

    @Marta, Do you ever go back and read them? Gah, sometimes I want to go and grab that me at the time and squeeze the ever loving shit out of her. I love though that you are able to find that little glimmer of happy. That is so vital in all of this. xoxo

    [Reply]

    Marta Reply:

    @Kimberly, I have before, but honestly its been years so I have. It’s also been equally as wrong since I’ve written any fiction. I still daydream all the time of these grand fictional lives I could lead (especially when I’m on the treadmill!), but I try not to think about how improbable they actually are.

    [Reply]

  • It’s through your writing that I found you, found a friend, and found comfort in your words. Thank you for sharing them, even when it might be difficult. XO

    [Reply]

    Kimberly Reply:

    @Roxanne, Sweets, I am so glad that you did and even more so that we became friends xoxo

    [Reply]

  • And a DAMNED good writer at that….
    I love your answer to “how can you write during times like that?”
    but I think there’s another answer….
    it’s a gift, a beautiful gift you were given.
    Running around a damned hospital is SO overrated anyway.
    (I worked last night and only slept for 3 hours today, I’m cranky.)
    xoxo

    [Reply]

    Kimberly Reply:

    @cyndy, Well it wasn’t overrated. I had the best legs going. HAHAH. I kid. *passes you sleeping drugs xxo

    [Reply]

  • So beautifully put and as always goes straight from your heart and into your reader’s. At one point during reading this, I think it might have been while reading this sentence: “Writing is my control over what is trying to kill me.” I thought of an essay by one of my favourite authors, Amy Tan. In her book about writing (which you should totally read) The Opposite of Fate, she writes about writing while struggling with a physical illness (lime disease) that affected her mind and memory and health otherwise. I was amazed at the quality of writing produced under such physical circumstances. This sentence made me think that this is probably the same way she was feeling.

    [Reply]

    Kimberly Reply:

    @Katia, I wrote that book down. I think I love reading more about people who have overcome such obstacles in life. They give me inspiration and hope that no matter what I must face, I can overcome it too. Thanks for the suggestion xoxo

    [Reply]

  • I relate to this post more than you could know. I’ve written about it on my blog a few times. My father died when I was eleven. That made me different than others — in my mind, a freak. My journal understood what no one else could. How creativity springs from such dark places, a water lily.

    [Reply]

    Kimberly Reply:

    @Rachel, My journal understood what no one else could. You hit that nail right on the head. Oh so true. I had no idea that you lost your father. I can’t even imagine the pain that you went through and continue to do so. Much love friend.

    [Reply]

Leave a Reply

  

  

  

You can use these HTML tags

<a href="" title=""> <abbr title=""> <acronym title=""> <b> <blockquote cite=""> <cite> <code> <del datetime=""> <em> <i> <q cite=""> <strike> <strong>