Advisory: This post may be a bit long and if you appreciate hearing about the bad things that have occurred to others or you may need to find some support for read on my friends.
Some days are generally just harder than others. You can control yourself and show no outward signs of distress but internally there is a war. You do not always know why this war has erupted or why a certain thing has been triggered.
A lot of the time my trigger is the pregnancies I have lost. Something happens to you when you have gotten pregnant, been happy, so very happy, about it and then lost them. Forever are the memories of the physical pain that you felt when they were dying inside of you and when you almost died with them. The loss of energy, the sharp stabbing throbs from inside the womb letting you know you were literally feeling death inside you. Every time this happens in your brain, and it will over and over and over again, it brings tears to your eyes.
I can remember my whaling when I knew. I just knew because I could feel it. I could feel my baby die. It is one of the worst things you could go through. I have been through a lot and I think it is why I have the serious triggers I do. I can tell you, but I will not describe it to you, I am still not ready, that I have been raped. I thought that was the worst thing to happen to me. I thought it had destroyed me for the longest time. I still to this day do not go out that much, or at least not alone because I do not trust many people. That affected me so deeply that I do not have many friends due to the circumstances of my abuse. I just simply do not trust many people. You should feel some honor if I have let you into my little circle of life I hold dear to me. I would only plead you don't destroy it. At any rate, losing those pregnancies was worse.
It may sound dumb to some people because they know women lose pregnancies all the time. Yet when you say women lose their babies all the time rather than they lose pregnancies it doesn't seem so cut and dry. It does not seem like oh she is simply 1 in 4 women. I LOST MY BABIES is what we want to cry out. It wasn't just a pregnancy it was our flesh and blood. It was our children we lost. Most of us never got to meet the children we lost. Regardless of your stand of whether life is sacred, if abortion is okay or not, if a fetus should have rights, when it happens to you, when you lose your pregnancy, no matter how far along you are you lost your child. I do not think I have ever written this thorough on the subject but I guess today is the day and I am not even sure why. Maybe because around this time two years in a row I had become pregnant. Maybe because I am sick of seeing women who lost their children, unborn or born babies, infants, toddlers, adult children whatever, as a statistic that stings every time. Or maybe it's a trigger from seeing so many murder and sexual abuse cases about children lately that it has triggered this. Or maybe, and this is definitely possible I see my two sisters with their children and sometimes it pulls those memories back to me.
Either way the triggers are there. Reminding you what you lost. I know there are many of us who lost our marriages or relationships along with those babies/children. Something was lost when that happened. At one point a bond was made for some of us. A tight bond with our lovers we never thought could be untied and then one day it fell to pieces. Losing the relationship is hard. It will never be easy especially if you were married and it takes time to repair yourself and for some of us longer because of circumstances in which it all ended. But you had already lost a part of yourself with those pregnancies and gained something new as well. Something changed internally, at least for me. Things I had thought were so important, so in my face, and so always there became nothing to me. I realized I had a dark tint on my eyes not letting me see the most vital things in life. So while to most I may seem like a very introverted loner, which I am totally, and I may even seem callous sometimes or shy, really things that are outside, like binge drinking or partying all the time or whatever thing I made more important than those things around me are now so futile and silly that I just let myself relax and take time to live. I gained an insight when I lost part of myself that not many people get or they do not accept. There is a way to be comfortable in the world without following everything everyone else does, or doing what you think you should be doing based on what has been spoon fed to you based on your society and culture. I even became more welcoming and satisfied with the way my appearance was. And I can tell you that was never true before.
I can also tell you before losing those babies I was sometimes a wreck. Being raped can leave you feeling worthless about yourself. You may feel guilty for numerous reasons, disgusting, alone in a world filled with billions, suffering, and so so very blue. This can take over. It will destroy you if you do not get control of it. I would binge my way through life not giving any care for myself besides who I was around. I would drink until I couldn't remember. For the longest time I didn't, well I wouldn't talk about what happened to me or my response to it. I simply did not want anyone to know how vulnerable I was, or how vulnerable I made myself is really how I saw, and sometimes still do. Something clicked in my head though when I lost those pregnancies. Something told me that no matter what you are vulnerable and it is not a perfect thing but there is not much you can do. Your body will deceive you. It will hurt you and it will fail sometimes. Life will always do this to you. Because of this you need to realize what is truly important to you. Is it drinking all the time to rid yourself of your issues, or for some drugs? Is having a million and one friends truly important when you know that only a few are really going to be there always? Is it worth it to not love yourself? NO. It simply isn't. There are so many people who could read this and would be the ones to brush it off and not think twice about what they truly want in life. But I am not going to worry about them. They will either figure it out or simply will not.
I can say this though- having people who show you love, care, kindness, affection, happiness, hilariousness, sincerity, and true friendship (which is definitely also in romantic relationships) is where it is at. We can have great jobs, enough money to eat the greatest foods and wear the best clothes and drive the nicest cares but if you don't have sincerely loving people to enjoy it with it is worth nothing. If you do not simply have sincere and honest people around you who would be there always then your life is missing the crucial piece. We all need to love ourselves thoroughly and it can be so hard, and even harder to realize making BIG mistakes can just be a part of life that makes you better if you are good, but having those around you who are willing to help you realize that, or help pick up those broken pieces, or be the loving humorous friend who is just the person that accepts you for who you are you will feel alone and lost.
I do not know if life ever gets easier for anyone. I doubt it. Even if you are rich and can pay for your problems to be solved more will arise. Remembering what is truly good for you what is wonderful in life is a gift. The pain I have endured throughout my life has not been easy. It in fact has been extremely challenging and it has negatively affected me in many ways. I still have these days were life seems helpless and I am down from what I have lost, or imagining what my life would be like with the babies I lost, even without my ex husband, and what kind of person I would be without those loses and without the rape. Death has occurred a lot in my life as well and I always wonder what if when it comes to them and it drags me into weird places that can be so depressing it is like having your mind locked in a dark damp disgusting cellar. But then, when all those tragedies build up and make life feel terrible, or like I am terrible, I remember they all made me who I am today.
I am humble to those who have donated to me to get me through rough patches, who have been by my side even when I seemed off my rocker, and simply just accepted me as a flawed, bipolar maniac at times and still loved me. While I would wish those things on no one and I would choose never to have to feel death inside me, or my own death looming, or being sexually abused in such a nasty way, it has made me stronger. It has made me courageous, honest, loving, caring, empathetic, affectionate, intelligent, introverted in just the right way for me, a non-alcoholic, a person wiling to give attention when you call upon me. It has also made me weird. It has made me find it necessary to find humor in small things and be a goof whenever I feel. It has caused some negative things- I sometimes am a hermit and do not want to associate with too many people in one day because for me it can be devastatingly exhausting, it has made me prone to social anxiety and even working anxiety, and has made me scared to ever want to get pregnant again or fall in love so deeply I make myself supremely vulnerable. Those things though are workable. Those things people who know me can understand why I do them. But the good things all people don't have or aren't willing to be. I am someone who experiences manic and mania and can accept the crazy in people and I usually gravitate towards it but others cannot do that or refuse to try and understand how to be there for you when you get that way but I have it because of all those tragedies in my life. So even when you feel lost in this world, alone, depressed, even suicidal think about how those negative awful things have made you somehow better or wiser because they have. Tragedies give us something we didn't have before while taking away a small part of us with them and that's OKAY.
If you really read this whole post I thank you for being so generous with your time and hope I educated you, helped you, or at least somehow entertained you for the few minutes you had to read.
Lea
Showing posts with label Sadness. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Sadness. Show all posts
Saturday, March 28, 2015
Sunday, April 13, 2014
Dark Cloud Days
It does not really matter whether you are on meds or not some days are just gloomy. Gloomy like you have sat under a dark cloud by accident and every time you try and walk away it just follows you. The worst part about these days is sometimes that dark cloud rains down on you, sweeping you off your feet, and sliding down the sharp gravel road.
For some reason I just cried last night, thinking of the life I have had, the suffering other people have, and how I truly believe this world is so morally corrupt it be a shocker to see it be anything but. The sadness that sits on street curbs and store fronts, as they passively ask for just 50 cents, watching most people pass them by. Those people have it worse; some of them have mental illnesses that trump anything I have seen first hand. Then there's those sitting in their rooms closed off from what is supposed to be their support group i.e. their family, being stigmatized all the way to their commitment to die.
So what of me? I am not the only one suffering and I do not have it as bad as I could but that does not dismiss the fact that I feel a smothering darkness atop me. It just feels so exhausting sometimes dealing with the highs and lows. My meds do get at stabilizing me for the most part but not completely, never completely. That would be some sort of miracle. I saw a guy in an interview once say all it took was his meds to turn him around and feel 'normal'. What does that mean? And what was this guy taking because I have never felt 'normal' on any med?! I still have cycles of moods on meds, even if they are strong.
There I sit, delving into things that seem impossible, not so much a judgment of that man as an investigation into how he does it. Perhaps it is a lie and he never feels 'normal' he just does not want anyone thinking differently. Why? Because crazy isn't attractive, but I don't know that anyone with bipolar disorder should really be called crazy. Yes we have some strange going-ons that happen to us, some people see hallucinations, and others just cycle so quickly you might think they are two people. Sometimes I feel that way of myself. Me I am assertive on what I believe, I am super weird in general, but me swinging through manic, mania, and depression well that part of me loses patience, feels egotistical (it's a strange high that bipolar people get that makes them feel almost invincible and anyone that gets in our way better watch out), anger and rage become a serious issue, becoming easily annoyed or irritated, becoming hostile or volatile, and for me I can go from doing amazing, just on top of the world, to engulfed in a sobering unimaginable depression. Once that cloud hits I'm not feeling quite like myself. I tell me husband ahead of time (ahead of any kind of snap attitude) that today I am feeling like death and do not want to be teased or played with (you know the loving kind of way a couple plays around with each other like a pinch on the butt or a teasing silly remark-well those things for turn to be a horrible thing and I snap like a homeless dog).
I don't think any of this truly equates to crazy but some may think so. I think it's just a different way for a brain to function. Some days it is on par with what should be "normal" functioning, and other days it has special attributes that most wouldn't be willing to deal with- except maybe that part where you get an extreme high and everything looks amazing to you, you look amazing to you, all the trees and animals and the sky are just vivid and a sign of happiness. I say to myself sometimes 'wow you are crazy' because of the things I think and the ways I feel.
To be perfectly honest I have no idea if I have had hallucinations ever. That is a question for my brain to process because there are times where I am completely disconnected and it just feels like I am sitting in my brain unable to control anything and my body is just doing whatever- and at these moments I do panic because reality does not feel real. I can say this, there have been times where I spook myself because of obsessively pondering over something like the idea of ghosts, what happened when you die, what would a demon really be, and crap out of horror flicks most people don't' sit and compulsively ponder over for hours. When that happens I can tell you, and I have never said this out loud to anyone, I walk around the house extremely paranoid and will see 'shadows' is what I may call it, or I may fall asleep and wake up in sleep paralysis and see 'what would be demons' and I don't know if that counts as true hallucinations because when I read about sleep paralysis many people think they see demons, but I do believe in some kind of theory about ghosts. I am convinced that I have seen them and I was not always alone when they seemed to have appeared and whoever was with me did the same kind of scream-OMG what the F**** so either I hallucinated and that person was just playing along, or I and that person really saw something.
However, I do sit there and again compulsively think I am going to see something come up behind me or around the corner and my BP goes up, I start to panic and I probably do see shadows that aren't actually there but I have convinced my brain through obsessively thinking about it that something will show up. You will see me run out of the house and go anywhere but back home for a couple hours. I am surely digressing perhaps because this part of me is part of the dark cloud.
I remember not that long ago having a very gloomy bad day and I was at school. I did not want to be there and I would have given just about anything to have the choice to stay home without penalty-which I think I should since I PAY for my classes- but anyway, I was in a dark deep think smog. It was awful. I was sitting there trying to mind my own business reading a piece by Plato - Timaeus, which is a Creation story- and normally I wouldn't mind a friendly debate on the topic, but my friend and peer Josh, as usual, picked a bit of a debate about how these kinds of stories are irrational, while he knows I believe otherwise even though I don't know that I believe one myself. At any rate, I was so focused on staying calm and reading this piece that it just passed me off that he was interrupting me. At first I just replied with an attitude and went back to trying to read the piece, and as usually he has a rebuttal which is only normal during the course of an argumentative conversation, and I just flipped out. I was nasty and told him to 'fuck off and for once just leave it be so on' and he made another remark and I hit rage point and very embarrassingly I raised my voice got hostile and cussed too loudly. He left it alone after that like any sane person would clearly being able to see something was off that day. After a day or so, because I had to come down from the manic and mania, and I told him I was sorry and that day was just not a good day for me. Of course he understood and we moved past it, but I think that is the only time, maybe passively in another class, that I had ever got super angry, and the only thing I can say is I am happy that I only got to about an eighth of where I normally land on the rage meter.
I am always regretting those moments of getting so uppity that I get into serious anger mode. It may not even truly bother me what the other person says or does but I am so irritable and aggressive those days that I just hate just about everything but those persons whom I love. Even then though I have taken it out on them. They know the wrath of Lea. Me and my husband actually nicknamed that side of me Lequisha (only because it was the first name that popped up in my head that started with an L and was so different from lea). Those days are tough. There is this awful feeling when you have to put on your 'normal' face when deep down in the darkens you feel so miserable, exhausted, upset, depressed, angered so forth. I put a smile on all the time, or at least I try to when I am down. I think only a couple people can see past that bull shot façade- my husband, my mom, and only once did a stranger say something to me. I don't remember who this gentleman was and he was a friend on Facebook and he emailed me a message that took me aback. He said he knew by looking at my eyes (in pictures of me) that there was a hidden sadness that looks to be unrelenting. That I looked as if I was going down a deep spiral to a place he said he didn't want to see me go because I would end up dead, and that talking to anyone was better than bidding what I knew was in my soul and mind. I of course lied and said I have no idea what you are talking about because at the time I hid that I was bipolar publicly. I mean my mom knew, and other members knew but didn't see much of it because I hid it from others besides my mom and I didn't want this guy knowing anything about it. He probably dealt with it himself and that was how he knew but for some reason it bothered me that he knew.
I have become open about it in the last couple years because I realized hiding your pain, be it mental or physical, only leads to more pain. Suffering under the veil of obscurity helps no one. I am not fooling anyone, they know I go through episodes and I'm sure even my teachers may notice that on some days I am so caught up in my drowning in sorrow that I get aggressive during debates in class, or am aggressive against others comments in a way I normally am not- they know something is up, they have to.
These days I try and stay home because it is no use having me in class as I won't be paying attention I will be sitting there compulsively thinking about dark stuff. In my notebook there is some drawings in the margins of a person with their skull cut open and all these weird symbols falling out, there are pictures of dead flowers, dead faces whatever- and if anyone where to ask for my notes on that day I would definitely lie and say I didn't take any because I wouldn't want them seeing the f***ed up doodles.
Just like today I am so depressed and tired that I don't even know what I want to do. I want to write the blog post to help me cope with the day, see what I am really thinking, and then what- I always feel so antsy on these days- I smoke more cigarettes because I don't know what to do with my self, I will end up reading a few chapters not in just one book but several because I just don't know what I want, and I won't know what to do with my body, or say I want to eat for dinner, or know anything. Homework would be impossible today unless I somehow start floating up past the dark cloud.
I just feel like sometimes I am just not worth it. I am just so off and so weird and can be so aggressive that I am amazed I have my husband. He is wonderful in dealing with me and not many people can tolerate it. I get hurt when people say 'I don't know how much more I can take of this' because it's like hello how do you think I feel! I deal with what is actually happening in my brain you just get a small taste of it. Plus it hurts because I can't help my swings and I don't know that it should always be held against me. Yes sometimes I am just a real twat but I take responsibility for those days, but other days it really just isn't controllable. Now many say being on meds causing a person to lose creativity and fogs their minds but I feel it opens mine. I can explore more because my mind is not preoccupied like it is without meds. I can think of wonderful things to put into words, I can see the beauty stilt that lies outside, and I can certainly still doodle some pretty creative, but not so aesthetically pleasing due to dark content, figures, and I am a better reader and critical writer and editor on my meds because I don't feel as overwhelmed.
However, I do not feel motivated at all today as the dark sands of doom come swirling in around me, warping my thoughts and my visions of wonderful outcomes, I am left in despair over what I ought to be doing. I have been sitting here crying and not really delving into why I am so sad- because I don't really know- but on these days watch out for those horrifying thoughts about what death really is because it can lead you deeper down the dark stairwell that no one wants to be put down. I do that sometimes and those days I am so enveloped in the darkness I lay in the couch feeling sick, wishing reality for me was different and that I could process things more correctly. I sit there and my husband looks worried because he knows when my moods are changing. He tries to cheer me up and it's like I don't even like those things he is suggesting ATM because I am so engulfed in terrifying and magnificently deep fearful thinking. These days are the days I need to reach out which is why I wrote my post today. I am in that mood, my thoughts are scattered and I am obsessing over particular thoughts and I need to climb the ladder back to the surface where I can see the warm glow of the sunshine. Right now I am in the dark damp pit of sewage waiting to have the courage and strength to pull myself up, or perhaps I am waiting for the helping hand. At least I know that eventually these things will pass and I will become immersed in sunshine at least for a little bit. -On the 25th I will have to tell my doctor that I need something else because I am still cycling and my anxiety is rising- and I may need a higher dosage on that since even at home I am having moments of despair that cause me to quietly panic so no one comes over and cuddles me because that doesn't help. I go sit outside so no one notices. Caught up in a world of doom and gloom and wishing for an escape. Living an ordinary life is not quite as adventurous as living with a bipolar mind, You don't need to see new countries to see and experience new things.
I guess I will have to write another post later because this is getting too long, and I will write about procrastination, moving a lot, being impulsive, and such. Thanks for reading. Feel free to comment and tell me how you're feeling on these kinds of gloomy days.
Lea Silva
For some reason I just cried last night, thinking of the life I have had, the suffering other people have, and how I truly believe this world is so morally corrupt it be a shocker to see it be anything but. The sadness that sits on street curbs and store fronts, as they passively ask for just 50 cents, watching most people pass them by. Those people have it worse; some of them have mental illnesses that trump anything I have seen first hand. Then there's those sitting in their rooms closed off from what is supposed to be their support group i.e. their family, being stigmatized all the way to their commitment to die.
So what of me? I am not the only one suffering and I do not have it as bad as I could but that does not dismiss the fact that I feel a smothering darkness atop me. It just feels so exhausting sometimes dealing with the highs and lows. My meds do get at stabilizing me for the most part but not completely, never completely. That would be some sort of miracle. I saw a guy in an interview once say all it took was his meds to turn him around and feel 'normal'. What does that mean? And what was this guy taking because I have never felt 'normal' on any med?! I still have cycles of moods on meds, even if they are strong.
There I sit, delving into things that seem impossible, not so much a judgment of that man as an investigation into how he does it. Perhaps it is a lie and he never feels 'normal' he just does not want anyone thinking differently. Why? Because crazy isn't attractive, but I don't know that anyone with bipolar disorder should really be called crazy. Yes we have some strange going-ons that happen to us, some people see hallucinations, and others just cycle so quickly you might think they are two people. Sometimes I feel that way of myself. Me I am assertive on what I believe, I am super weird in general, but me swinging through manic, mania, and depression well that part of me loses patience, feels egotistical (it's a strange high that bipolar people get that makes them feel almost invincible and anyone that gets in our way better watch out), anger and rage become a serious issue, becoming easily annoyed or irritated, becoming hostile or volatile, and for me I can go from doing amazing, just on top of the world, to engulfed in a sobering unimaginable depression. Once that cloud hits I'm not feeling quite like myself. I tell me husband ahead of time (ahead of any kind of snap attitude) that today I am feeling like death and do not want to be teased or played with (you know the loving kind of way a couple plays around with each other like a pinch on the butt or a teasing silly remark-well those things for turn to be a horrible thing and I snap like a homeless dog).
I don't think any of this truly equates to crazy but some may think so. I think it's just a different way for a brain to function. Some days it is on par with what should be "normal" functioning, and other days it has special attributes that most wouldn't be willing to deal with- except maybe that part where you get an extreme high and everything looks amazing to you, you look amazing to you, all the trees and animals and the sky are just vivid and a sign of happiness. I say to myself sometimes 'wow you are crazy' because of the things I think and the ways I feel.
To be perfectly honest I have no idea if I have had hallucinations ever. That is a question for my brain to process because there are times where I am completely disconnected and it just feels like I am sitting in my brain unable to control anything and my body is just doing whatever- and at these moments I do panic because reality does not feel real. I can say this, there have been times where I spook myself because of obsessively pondering over something like the idea of ghosts, what happened when you die, what would a demon really be, and crap out of horror flicks most people don't' sit and compulsively ponder over for hours. When that happens I can tell you, and I have never said this out loud to anyone, I walk around the house extremely paranoid and will see 'shadows' is what I may call it, or I may fall asleep and wake up in sleep paralysis and see 'what would be demons' and I don't know if that counts as true hallucinations because when I read about sleep paralysis many people think they see demons, but I do believe in some kind of theory about ghosts. I am convinced that I have seen them and I was not always alone when they seemed to have appeared and whoever was with me did the same kind of scream-OMG what the F**** so either I hallucinated and that person was just playing along, or I and that person really saw something.
However, I do sit there and again compulsively think I am going to see something come up behind me or around the corner and my BP goes up, I start to panic and I probably do see shadows that aren't actually there but I have convinced my brain through obsessively thinking about it that something will show up. You will see me run out of the house and go anywhere but back home for a couple hours. I am surely digressing perhaps because this part of me is part of the dark cloud.
I remember not that long ago having a very gloomy bad day and I was at school. I did not want to be there and I would have given just about anything to have the choice to stay home without penalty-which I think I should since I PAY for my classes- but anyway, I was in a dark deep think smog. It was awful. I was sitting there trying to mind my own business reading a piece by Plato - Timaeus, which is a Creation story- and normally I wouldn't mind a friendly debate on the topic, but my friend and peer Josh, as usual, picked a bit of a debate about how these kinds of stories are irrational, while he knows I believe otherwise even though I don't know that I believe one myself. At any rate, I was so focused on staying calm and reading this piece that it just passed me off that he was interrupting me. At first I just replied with an attitude and went back to trying to read the piece, and as usually he has a rebuttal which is only normal during the course of an argumentative conversation, and I just flipped out. I was nasty and told him to 'fuck off and for once just leave it be so on' and he made another remark and I hit rage point and very embarrassingly I raised my voice got hostile and cussed too loudly. He left it alone after that like any sane person would clearly being able to see something was off that day. After a day or so, because I had to come down from the manic and mania, and I told him I was sorry and that day was just not a good day for me. Of course he understood and we moved past it, but I think that is the only time, maybe passively in another class, that I had ever got super angry, and the only thing I can say is I am happy that I only got to about an eighth of where I normally land on the rage meter.
I am always regretting those moments of getting so uppity that I get into serious anger mode. It may not even truly bother me what the other person says or does but I am so irritable and aggressive those days that I just hate just about everything but those persons whom I love. Even then though I have taken it out on them. They know the wrath of Lea. Me and my husband actually nicknamed that side of me Lequisha (only because it was the first name that popped up in my head that started with an L and was so different from lea). Those days are tough. There is this awful feeling when you have to put on your 'normal' face when deep down in the darkens you feel so miserable, exhausted, upset, depressed, angered so forth. I put a smile on all the time, or at least I try to when I am down. I think only a couple people can see past that bull shot façade- my husband, my mom, and only once did a stranger say something to me. I don't remember who this gentleman was and he was a friend on Facebook and he emailed me a message that took me aback. He said he knew by looking at my eyes (in pictures of me) that there was a hidden sadness that looks to be unrelenting. That I looked as if I was going down a deep spiral to a place he said he didn't want to see me go because I would end up dead, and that talking to anyone was better than bidding what I knew was in my soul and mind. I of course lied and said I have no idea what you are talking about because at the time I hid that I was bipolar publicly. I mean my mom knew, and other members knew but didn't see much of it because I hid it from others besides my mom and I didn't want this guy knowing anything about it. He probably dealt with it himself and that was how he knew but for some reason it bothered me that he knew.
I have become open about it in the last couple years because I realized hiding your pain, be it mental or physical, only leads to more pain. Suffering under the veil of obscurity helps no one. I am not fooling anyone, they know I go through episodes and I'm sure even my teachers may notice that on some days I am so caught up in my drowning in sorrow that I get aggressive during debates in class, or am aggressive against others comments in a way I normally am not- they know something is up, they have to.
These days I try and stay home because it is no use having me in class as I won't be paying attention I will be sitting there compulsively thinking about dark stuff. In my notebook there is some drawings in the margins of a person with their skull cut open and all these weird symbols falling out, there are pictures of dead flowers, dead faces whatever- and if anyone where to ask for my notes on that day I would definitely lie and say I didn't take any because I wouldn't want them seeing the f***ed up doodles.
Just like today I am so depressed and tired that I don't even know what I want to do. I want to write the blog post to help me cope with the day, see what I am really thinking, and then what- I always feel so antsy on these days- I smoke more cigarettes because I don't know what to do with my self, I will end up reading a few chapters not in just one book but several because I just don't know what I want, and I won't know what to do with my body, or say I want to eat for dinner, or know anything. Homework would be impossible today unless I somehow start floating up past the dark cloud.
I just feel like sometimes I am just not worth it. I am just so off and so weird and can be so aggressive that I am amazed I have my husband. He is wonderful in dealing with me and not many people can tolerate it. I get hurt when people say 'I don't know how much more I can take of this' because it's like hello how do you think I feel! I deal with what is actually happening in my brain you just get a small taste of it. Plus it hurts because I can't help my swings and I don't know that it should always be held against me. Yes sometimes I am just a real twat but I take responsibility for those days, but other days it really just isn't controllable. Now many say being on meds causing a person to lose creativity and fogs their minds but I feel it opens mine. I can explore more because my mind is not preoccupied like it is without meds. I can think of wonderful things to put into words, I can see the beauty stilt that lies outside, and I can certainly still doodle some pretty creative, but not so aesthetically pleasing due to dark content, figures, and I am a better reader and critical writer and editor on my meds because I don't feel as overwhelmed.
However, I do not feel motivated at all today as the dark sands of doom come swirling in around me, warping my thoughts and my visions of wonderful outcomes, I am left in despair over what I ought to be doing. I have been sitting here crying and not really delving into why I am so sad- because I don't really know- but on these days watch out for those horrifying thoughts about what death really is because it can lead you deeper down the dark stairwell that no one wants to be put down. I do that sometimes and those days I am so enveloped in the darkness I lay in the couch feeling sick, wishing reality for me was different and that I could process things more correctly. I sit there and my husband looks worried because he knows when my moods are changing. He tries to cheer me up and it's like I don't even like those things he is suggesting ATM because I am so engulfed in terrifying and magnificently deep fearful thinking. These days are the days I need to reach out which is why I wrote my post today. I am in that mood, my thoughts are scattered and I am obsessing over particular thoughts and I need to climb the ladder back to the surface where I can see the warm glow of the sunshine. Right now I am in the dark damp pit of sewage waiting to have the courage and strength to pull myself up, or perhaps I am waiting for the helping hand. At least I know that eventually these things will pass and I will become immersed in sunshine at least for a little bit. -On the 25th I will have to tell my doctor that I need something else because I am still cycling and my anxiety is rising- and I may need a higher dosage on that since even at home I am having moments of despair that cause me to quietly panic so no one comes over and cuddles me because that doesn't help. I go sit outside so no one notices. Caught up in a world of doom and gloom and wishing for an escape. Living an ordinary life is not quite as adventurous as living with a bipolar mind, You don't need to see new countries to see and experience new things.
I guess I will have to write another post later because this is getting too long, and I will write about procrastination, moving a lot, being impulsive, and such. Thanks for reading. Feel free to comment and tell me how you're feeling on these kinds of gloomy days.
Lea Silva
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