Hi my name…

Hi my name is Ellie Rose,

Hi my name is Ellie Rose,

I love to lay in the sunshine,

I love to gaze at the stars in the night sky,

I bounce of walls with energy,

I climb into bed like a sloth,

I sleep for minutes at a time,

I sleep for days at a time,

I’m always sweating,

I’m always bone cold,

I like people,

I hate people,

I enjoy company — I need it,

I need to be alone,

Sometimes I just need a hug,

Don’t ever touch me,

I am going to conquer the world,

It’s amazing if I shower,

My glass is half full,

My glass is half empty,

I can’t cry if i tried,

I can’t hold back the tears,

I like to make you laugh so we don’t have to be serious,

Sarcasm is my defense mechanism,

I’ll do anything on a dare,

It’s amazing if I have the energy to roll my eyes at you,

I avoid the doctor,

I think every migraine is a brain tumor,

I write about seeking the light,

I write about fading into the darkness,

I love exercise,

I love donuts,

I want to runaway,

I want to curl into a ball and hide,

I’m okay.

I’m okay.

Hi our name is Ellie Rose.

We are not okay.

12 Pills

Fact: Walgreens calls more than my own mother, father, or any close friend. Frequently I find myself deleting a voicemail box of only Walgreens’ lovely automated curtosey calls. Let’s not forget the emails, always on time and consistent. It is safe to say things between us are getting serious. Most stable relationship I’ve ever had.

Pink pills, blue pills, yellow pills, half color this half color that pill, oh all my pills, pills, pills. And that doesn’t even begin to touch the tablets…

I’m 20 and take 12 pills a day. I know there are people out there that take more or less, it’s not about comparing. Sometimes I take my set of pills out of my medicine box and just stare. What am I putting into my body? Are the pills working? Am I finally working?

When someone tries to tell me nothing is wrong with me, I think of my hand of pills. Well I take those pills for a reason, right? Oh and just because I take them doesn’t mean they solve the problem. There are always new pills or back to the old, high dose or low dose, or that time or this time. I am a lab rat.

Sometimes you just want to go back to the beginning. Clean slate. Flush those pills and go cold turkey. Literally, F**k them. Yeah the lows sucks, the middle is the middle, but the high. I miss the euphoric feeling, I was light as air, I could do anything. I miss the adrenaline. I was a junky looking for my next thrill. I felt happy, I felt good, I liked being me for once. I always wished the mania would take me out, led me fade into the eternal black at least with the idea of happiness.

I am trying to be stable. I am trying to function. I take my pills. In all honesty, I don’t really know for what or why. I guess I do it to stop hurting people.

Bipolar I Disorder

Maybe I did strange things as a child. Maybe we all do? Maybe they could have predicted it because I thought of drowning, running in front of cars, trying to dehydrate myself, finding poison berries to eat and who even knows what else. Sometimes I hid from all the other kids on the playground or my family. I just wanted to be alone. Isolation. But honestly, woulda, coulda, shoulda.

The fact of the matter is I didn’t start seeing a psychologist until my sophomore year. And let’s be real I don’t like telling anyone shit and emotions might as well be Chinese. In reality I was a hurricane. Always moving, never slowing down, and always getting worse. Some weeks I could barely get out of bed. Others I avoided bed like the plague. I went on random 3am runs. I sometimes ate, most of the time didn’t. If I was manic, I drank, I drank even if i threw up or could barely stand. I drank like there was no end, but my own.

Drinking was how I learned to cope. I didn’t want to tell anyone exactly what was going on. It would scare them, they would cry and I would comfort them because of my f***ed up mind. So I stayed silent, until I ended up in ambulances, hospital beds, and impatient. At that point, there is only so much you can hide. So I spent my sophomore year spring break in impatient being “stabilized,” not at the beach. They gave a couple pills, said I was depressed and to watch me for *whispers* bipolar, *GASP VERY LOUD.* I am not even going to get into how long it took for having a disorder to seem normal. My mother said it was my birth control or my lack of vitamins. Enough said.

I spent all of that summer going to a therapist who was bomb and dealt with my rock of a self. She referred me to Dr. African Grandpa who, I either did not understand (like accent or just whatever point he was making), yelled at me for not talking, or laughed at his on jokes. We got along in the end. Sometimes he made me feel crazy because he made me see him two times a week.  He’s the one wanted to send me off after mental breakdown who even knows what number (I only made it two days into my junior semester). Residential is where I was “officially”  diagnosed bipolar I. The amount of pills increased, so I felt like a lab rat. We were off the races, time not to “fix,” but learn how to be me.

I’ll take two years of Crash and Burn

I can’t remember my first two years of college. Anytime I try rapid scenes of painted costumes, drunk girls throwing up, skidding by in school, using my art to save my gpa, always finishing your drink and never refusing a shot appear. The scenes of unwanted sex and rape I chose to blackout. And yet on the day I left, I cried and cried to go back to a place of disaster and chaos.
It wasn’t the shitty way things were that I couldn’t stand to leave, but the few actual friends I had found. They say real friends are hard to come by; I guess I was lucky. They saw me deteriorate. They watched and tried to pick up the pieces as best as they could.
My best friend held me together like no other could. He gave me a sort of therapy in our long car rides listening to music, drinking milkshakes and talking about nothing or everything. We had movie nights and stayed up all night laughing at random shit on the internet. We went to the cliffs and just sat. The one thing we always said we were going to do, but never did, was watch the sunrise on the cliffs. Who knows if we ever will.
When I had pictured going to college, it wasn’t anything like this. Let’s just say I was unsuspecting, at the least.

Beginnings

It all started when I was a child, an ivory skinned, white blonde haired, pale grey-blue eyed child, and a child that could not swim. The blue depths of the water looked so inviting. I stood on the edge. Not just the edge of the pool we’ve had ever since I could remember, but the edge of life. What would it feel like to just fall? Sinking into the blue depths, submerged and never to return to the surface.  My lungs filled with the cold clear blue never to gasp for air, never to breathe in life again.   

That is where my story begins. I am now  grown and still blonde, pale, and blue eyed. Every now and again I still go back to that day.  A bright warm sunny day with so much life around me, but all I could think about was death.