Reflections of a Bipolar Baer

By Linda Baer

Kissed!

Could these old tired lips of mine be graced with a kiss, a warm moist kiss
interrupted only by a breath to give life to another and yet another?
A kiss delightful! A kiss remembered! A kiss lingering!
Years of marriage, familiarity?
Enjoyment; a smile bestowed upon these lips.
A simple exquisite kiss!



Awaiting Waiting

Why is waiting so aggravating? Why so rude and selfish, so uncooperative?
Isnt it a pain, a burden bothersome?
Waiting in line while waiting in time, passing your time wasting time?
Waiting so impatiently, slowly extinguishing her patience? Tolerance intolerant?
Wanting to scream?
A voice firm, speaking repeatedly, against all hope that in the business of
their business, in the business of their minds, they will hear and acknowledge
your existence? My time important yet compromised in their eyes? Their time
uncompromised, significant in their lives?
My time, your time non-existent, destroying all hope? Time lingering in
disrepair: broken? Time. An eternity lying in state, lying in wait, waiting for
time, wasting time?

• Language: English
• Publisher: AuthorHouse
• Release date: Mar 6, 2006
• ISBN: 9781481776400

Book preview

Reflections of a

Bipolar Baer

Linda Baer

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AuthorHouse™

1663 Liberty Drive

Bloomington, IN 47403

www.authorhouse.com

Phone: [phone]

© 2013 Linda Baer. All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted by any means without the written permission of the author.

Published by AuthorHouse 8/13/2013

ISBN: 978-1-4259-1100-3 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-4817-7640-0 (e)

Library of Congress Control Number: 2005911383

Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Thinkstock are models, and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

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Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any web addresses or links contained in this book may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid.

The views expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.

Contents

This Child

This Child Lost

Soon

A Knee

Hiding

Freedom?

The Last Time

Tears of Fear

The Comfort of Love

Friendship

The Thread of Friendship

Adolescence

Degrees of Life

Revisions of Labour

Uncaring Caring?

A Day

Old Men

Running?

A Glorious Face

In the Shower

Young Men

Her Touch

Dead

Resurrection Life

In the Silence

A Little Man

She Lies

A Touch

She Walked

A Mystical Touch

Illusions

The Voice of Insincerity?

Sight Unseen

Tears

Praying?

Loved

Free To Be This Man

Prayer

Colours

Nature’s Delight

One Drop

A Feather

Matter Versus Matter

A Question?

Why, Wherefore and How?

What Is It?

Millennium

Perfection?

Unique Perfection?

Perfect Together?

Float

Musings

Today

In Her Memory

Awaiting Waiting

Neglect: The Silent Killer

Some

Contrite

The Language of Misery

The Consumption of this Age?

The Hypocrisy of Deceit?

Her Will

Power?

Perception or Reality?

Perspectives?

A Tear

They Appeared

I Thought

My Rock

In the Eyes

Birthdays

In Futility

Someone to Love

Two Words

Kissed!

Laughing

My Gift

My Dream

My Kids

Growing

My Boy

Quality Assurance?

Suits

Unravelled

Doctor?

Women Sans Men?

Loving?

An Impression of Depression?

R-age!

Anxiety

Into Insanity

Despair

The Enemy

Nothing Left

Leeched?

The Pit

Depressed

Hopeless

No Sound

Flight

Flight of Fancy

Pills

Desperation

Restrained

No More!

Fleeting!

Peasoup

Living Dead

Never Too Sad

Untamed?

The Sands of Time

A Prayer for Hope

Forgiveness?

Relationships?

In Glorious Light

One Mind

Wisdom

Seamless Perfection

On the Tree

Love Understanding

His Name

A Vision Clear

Thoughts

Time!

Victorious!

Words

Undeniably

A luminosity

Reflected

In a Reflection

Won’t you

Hold my hand

And see with me

This One Reality

This Child

I’m learning

To treasure

This child

Held within

To save her

To know her

To love her again.

This child within is so fragile, barely able to explore her memories, examine her thoughts and feelings, to know and trust them again. A life battered and bruised, betrayed by self-condemnation. To behold her a cataclysmic reaction, her reverberations shaking your very foundation.

Touching, stumbling upon hardened hearts, emotionless emotions, null and void. Treated with depraved indifference. A willingness to love and be loved ignored, without justification. This child born of hate cannot recall one kind word. Cowering within, trying to defend herself from the cruel harshness of each blow.

A hand outstretched, a voice expressed in friendliness now commands her heart. Come to my house, meet my friends.

One hand, one heart, one voice diligent in its pursuit of her.

This Child Lost

This soul at a loss

This heart broken

This spirit longed for

Yet unknown

This child

Frightened and afraid

Depressed

Under the weight

Of this responsibility

Clinging

To all she knew

Hoping

Against reason

And circumstance

Against all her experience

Against overwhelming

Smothering odds…

Why were they taking so long? They never said how long they would be gone. They had left at four.

Alone again with them, make supper, do the dishes, get them to do their homework, stop the fighting, the cursing and the swearing, the jumping on couches and on beds. She wanted to scream, ‘Stop!’ They were younger, their interest found only in play, yet she could not allow this, condone their behaviour, they had to do their homework and do it now! They had become her responsibility.

Darkness. The snow a white powder swirling around the corners of the house. The roads were slippery, ice glistening in the shadows cast by the street lamps. Unheard in the silence of the streets, where were they?

She called the first place; they had already left. The second acknowledged their presence. He came to the phone. She recognized that slippery honeyed tone, a testament to how much he had drunk.

She pleaded, even begged them to please come home but past experience had taught her well; they would not be home for hours. Flooded with despair, an unrelenting loneliness inexplicable, an avalanche of tears, she was crying out to those in whom she thought she believed, why did they not hear her? Did she belong to no one?

Eleven. Too early surely to exist in her own pain. A babysitter, a housekeeper, a taskmaster, her existence defined by her job description?

Self? No time to be aware, time only for everyone else? Had she ever existed? Would she ever know?

Soon

They had said soon five hours ago. She was beginning to worry, scared that they might have been in an accident.

She didn’t want to call again, she couldn’t face the possibility that they might not have left yet. Watching the clock, observing the silence, begging it to be disturbed. If she shut her eyes, could she will them home?

Her homework, seeking any distraction. She wanted time to fly, to be able