I journal obsessively, whenever I can, wherever I can

I basically like, HAVE to. I have to get the words out, the thoughts out, the feelings out in a way that makes some semblance of sense. And the thing is that it’s usually always all confusing and messy, so I have to MAKE it make sense. Straight-up forging meaning out of nothing. Well, not nothing. But like, out of chaos.

Anyway. I have physical notebooks (tons of them). I always have. But I also journal digitally. I guess it started when I got my first iPad. I have journals upon journals in goodnotes (that are now all uploaded to my phone). I went through a microsoft onenote phase, so I have all those journals too. And then I just have years worth of entries from the notes app on my phone. I love having every thought I’ve ever had with me at all times on my fuckin phone, it’s the coolest thing to me. Oh, and then there’s google docs for like essays and bigger entries.

I’m currently using notion. I feel like every youtuber I watch is big into notion these days. I don’t know if I was using it before it exploded in the realm of influencers, but either way, it’s cool seeing videos on it specifically, because I like seeing people customizing it.

But like…that’s not the point of this blogpost, actually. It’s related, I guess. Because I think using different mediums to journal promotes creativity. And this notion site is allowing me to really lean into the creativity thing.

My point, though, is that I’ve had a lot of thoughtssssss lately, and it’s overwhelming. Maybe it’s just that LIFE is overwhelming (it objectively is, like, you can’t argue with that fact, tbh). But it’s more than that. I keep facing philosophical dilemmas and being plagued by existential crises. It is nonnnnnstop.

Like why are we here. What is the purpose of all this? Is my life meaningful? I’d say all life is meaningful by default, but that’s not what I mean when I ask that question, really.

I keep track of these random tremendous thoughts and questions and predicaments somewhere on one of my journaling apps (or in a paper notebook, obv). But now even that’s not enough. What good does it do for me to explore these deep fucking ideas if the ideas just rot in a journal app on my phone.

I don’t know where I’m going with this lol. I also don’t know where I’m going in life, but I’m actually less concerned with the latter because it’s just too big an issue to focus on. Like I said earlier. Overwhelming.

Probably not healthy to ignore that looming question of WHAT ARE YOU DOING WITH YOUR LIFE. But maybe if I find the meaning of existence, life will give me a free pass in the career department. Who knows.

revisiting & reflecting

In March 2019, which feels like yesterday but also a billion years ago, I wrote about how I often found myself getting mad when unfair shit happened, or when people were just cruel (as people so often –too often—are). It was something that a therapy session made me delve deeper into, and I clearly remember writing it because I thought the phrase “emotional Robin Hood” was cool.

Welllll, I had therapy today, and that phrase popped into my mind again while we were talking about something. This time, it was more relating to how I need to stand up for myself. How it’s okay to know what I need and make sure I get it, how it’s okay to be confident and certain.

When we hung up (because therapy is vi a FaceTime, thanks to covid, even though I really want a hug, and I told her that haha), I dug up the thing I wrote that I was thinking about.

And I’m still thinking about it.

First of all, I’d like to think that I’ve made progress in my life, and that my issues now are pretty different than the ones I had a few years ago. And thankfully, that’s mostly true. But I do still circle back to things that were troubling me in year past. I revisit them from time to time as my life flows to bring them up again.

I definitely believe that we are taught the same lessons over and over again until we fully learn them (and that then life starts to teach us new ones), so I’m not stressing that I have to redo some soul searching.

It’s actually kind of interesting to see how I deal with a particular problematic behavior or emotion now as opposed to how I did then. It reminds me of pulling out old journals and reading through what I wrote and then re-processing what I was going through. That’s gotta be healthy, right? Growth, progress, learning…it can’t be a bad thing to focus on those things.

So. Basically we were talking about how three of the four psychiatrists I’ve seen were not good for me. The first one I’d been with for over ten years and he straight up just wasn’t treating my bipolar disorder. Like. Dude. Give me meds. Proper bipolar meds. But that’s a sidenote. I was going to say that three of the four have made me feel shitty about taking my adhd meds. Like I don’t deserve them, like if I’m taking them I’m wrong, like I’m lazy for needing them.

Like, this current one, until recently, only gave me 20 pills for a month. I…need to concentrate every day??? Like???? I don’t get it.

Anyway, my therapist and I were talking about college and how I feel like I didn’t try hard enough (not that anyone should blame me, my brain was trying to murder me up until 10 months ago). She said about my stimulants, like, “why do you value what those three psychiatrists think? You know what goes on inside you and your body best.”

(Have I mentioned I love my therapist?)

Then we got on the topic of not giving power to those people. She said another one of her bipolars told her a quote that stuck with her: don’t throw pearls at pigs. Meaning don’t waste my good shit for shitty people that aren’t supportive.

That’s what made me think of my emotional Robin Hood thing. Whatever she said in regards to not going out of our way for cruel people.

None of this seems to be related, and maybe it isn’t. But I like that I have writing to help me reflect on things that are hard to wrap my mind around. So I’m not upset about uploading this sheer mess of words to this thing. It’ll be good to look back on 😊

*existential crisis intensifies*

I’ve been anxious lately. I’d say “panicky,” but I don’t think that’s the exact right word. I haven’t been having panic attacks (and I don’t particularly care for when people claim they’re having them when they aren’t); I’ve just been in an internal state of messiness. I feel stupid, pathetic, unproductive, like I don’t matter. Those are pretty intense criticisms of myself, I know. And I realize that being all mopey and self-deprecating won’t help anything. But blah, why am I here, what’s the point, what am I doing, what is anyone doing? *existential crisis intensifies*

I’m gonna do something I always feel like I have to do and connect all the dots. Go back and follow the trail that brought me here and see if I can pick up on clues and hints to help me make sense of this feeling I’m experiencing. Good thing I keep journals and basically write every single thought down somewhere or another.

[excerpts from the last two or so weeks below, for your reading pleasure and oh-so-exciting look into my mind]

I have big plans for the day and I’m not feeling bad about it (not feeling good about it, but my mood is a little low, so that’s probably why). I have a science documentary on in the background (I need background noise lately and I’m sick of bullshit on YouTube) and I’m about to get my work done. I can do this, I got this. I dunno why I’m feeling so self-conscious and, I guess the word would be anxious, but I’m pushing on.

i like the idea of having a step-by-step schedule (like breakfast at x time, study at x time, etc.) but who’s gonna regulate that shit? me?

“My bedroom is a mess and stuff very uninspiring so I’m going to clean it before sitting down to write. I’ll turn on some good music or maybe a podcast. Then after I write and get my creativity out, I’m gonna stretch my arthritic body and see if I can start finally feeling better.”

I’m okay, I got this, I have the situation under control/ I’m worthy and valuable regardless of my mental state/ People love and respect me/ I am smart and creative and I have good ideas/ I give off good vibes, I’m fun, and people like being around me/ I have cool hobbies and interests/ I am resilient (boyyyyy am I!)/ I know how to calm and ground myself/ I’m strong as fuck/ I have so much love inside me, and I give it freely, and that makes me happy/ Life is in constant flux but that fact is oddly comforting/ I am whole/ I am unique

i haven’t really been doing anything but i still need a break from everything

“Gotta figure out what to wear tomorrow that’s warm but looks cute. I feel better when I look cute. And when I’m not cold. And when I can focus but I’ve been struggling to remember to take my fucking adhd meds. I know I feel better when I do. But I’ve been guilted into feeling like I don’t deserve to take my meds. I’ve had too many psychiatrists fuck with my head in that regard. Super annoying. Idk I just wanna get shit done.”

“I feel shitty because I ate garbage. It’s no big deal and I shouldn’t feel shitty about that. I think I know why I’m letting it get to me. But it’s still annoying. Whatever. Trying not to let it ruin everything though. I’m soooo much better at handling my emotions in a calmer way. Thank good for the proper meds that allowed me to do that. But I’d still prefer to not be annoyed lol”

“I wanna fucking gooooo…I wanna write and create and think and do. But nothing is coming to me. I refuse to get frustrated because that’s not gonna get me anywhere. Just saying, ugh. I feel overwhelmed because I’m not doing anything that matters. I guess following that logic I can just…do something that matters. Do I just not know what matters to me? That can’t be. I know what I value (creativity, honesty, love, connection, meaning, learning, fun, etc)

I’d post a summary of that chaos, but I need a little while to sit with it all. Stay tuned, if you so desire 😎

Sundays are for gettin’ shit done

I don’t think I got anything done yesterday (besides some online Christmas shopping!), but today was better in that regard. And in lots of other regards.

I woke up around 8, took my meds, recorded my mood info on my apps, got dressed and ready for the day, got my coffee. Typical.

But I checked off a few good habits from my list. Made my bed. Stretched my aching body.

Oh, I painted my nails. I picked out a few outfits for this week (a practice I was into back in my high school years…laying out exactly what I was going to wear because that’d be one less thing to think about during the chaotic week ahead).

I got some volunteer work done. I took one of the last tests for my class.

Texted with various people. Went out with my boyfriend just so we could say we left the house haha.

I’ve been reading more, which is good. I tend to start books and not finish them (hello, hi, I have ADHD) , and even though I usually beat myself up about that or make it a goal to NOT do that, I’ve stopped feeling guilty about it. And it makes me a happier reader. And besides, they’ll always be there for me to finish later, AND it makes finishing books that much more satisfying.

Monday 11.9.20

In other news, we finally figured out what’s wrong with my body. Apparently my bloodwork showed my rheumatoid factor was as high as it could possibly be (over 100 when it should be around 6…yeah, SIX). And with that, and with a few other tests, the doctor concluded that it’s rheumatoid arthritis.

I’m glad it has a name. I’m glad there’s a reason why I can’t hook my bra or lift my legs to put my underwear on (and then my pants, and then my socks, and then my shoes, and ugh holy shit).

I asked her why I have it, what I did wrong. She said I didn’t do anything wrong lol, it usually happens after the body goes through some tough shit, like having surgery or giving birth. I didn’t experience either of those, so go figure, but eh, maybe starving myself yet again for a few months had something to do with it? Whatever.

There’s a medication I can take to help the arthritis. Another pill (twice a day). Add it to my collection. It literally looks like I have a whole pharmacy on my dresser. I’m not mad; it’s worth it to be able to MOVE and FUNCTION haha, but yeah.

oh hey, positivity

The meds won’t kick in for a few more weeks, so in the meantime I’m on another steroid to help ease the pain. The last one really helped, which is a testament to how inflamed I am (oh joy), but you might recall me mentioning that I was rather moody.

That IS, apparently, a thing. I felt a lot better when I realized that was probably what was going on. Although I of course started to question myself and be all like “well maybe I’m just imagining it.”

Like. No.

I’m on a small dose of steroid, but I’m finding that I’m pretty sensitive to it. I’m irritable today. Just the same as last time.

I talked to my psychiatrist about it. She said to trust myself and do what feels best. It was nice to hear her say that she thinks I’m self-aware. Mostly because I don’t really know this woman. I’ve never met her in person (thanks covid), and just, ahh. Whatever. I’m just glad she gives me the meds I need now.

I’m excited to talk to my therapist tomorrow about, well, about all the things I just wrote about. It’s always fun to process things. It’s even more fun for me to process things with my therapist (who’s so fucking cool). Added bonus when I’m process things that aren’t terrifying, terrible depressions or all-consuming anxiety and whatnot.

Some T H O U G H T S:

My moods was stable as fuck and consistent for a good three days and today I’m just blahhhh, which I guess is normal, but it’s annoying. I’m unmotivated and uncertain and unfocused. I somehow turned a cozy and relaxing day into a waste.

I do so much mood tracking and I’m so careful with how I handle my moods and symptoms and how I handle my disorder. But am I doing ALL that I can? Does any of it even matter?

I’m disappointed that my class is turning out to be less than ideal. I mean, it is what it is, and I’ll take what was given to me and run with it. And I guess it’s good that I’m sure of my values and sure of how I feel (which is a rare thing with me haha, in terms of feelings, at least). I’m determined to not less this whole experience bring me back to the center of nowheresville.

See? Trying to be motivated. Because all I want is to be creative and productive and to make a difference. Or a impact. Or something. I want to be loved too, and to enjoy love and affection, and somehow that’s lumped into this whole paragraph??? My brain is weird.

I’m really sick of the rainy weather and I know it has such potential to be comfy, that it’s great reading weather, that it makes the flowers grow, blah blah. But like fuck I need some sunshine I want to sit outside and have my mornings out there.

Speaking of which, I need to regulate my sleep. I’ve been sleeping GOOD, to be honest, but I go to bed too late or sleep too late even when I go to bed early. I want my mornings. I need to set the right time for my day. It fucks me up when I have a bad morning, and even though I know I always have the power to turn my day around, it annoys me.

rainy mondays are for baggy sweatshirts, lots of coffee, and sea shanties/ pirate music playing through my noise cancelling headphones on repeat…while I try to write and actually be productive

yesterday wasn’t TOO unproductive, to be honest. I had a pretty big spurt of energy in the morning where I cleaned as much as I could in as little time as possible. I did the laundry, put things away, wiped the surfaces down, etc. it doesn’t look phenomenal in this apartment, but it’s more livable, and that’s what I was going for in the moment.

I was trying to do this whole SUNDAY RESET ROUTINE thing

and by that, I mean getting everything set up and organized for the coming week so that I don’t feel like a total shitshow for another seven days.

I like routines. I like the idea of them, and I really like when I stick with them. I was suuuuuper good at my morning routine right out of the psych hospital/right when quarantine started. it was helpful to have that structure, those set things I needed/wanted to do (and actually did). that fell off quite a bit, as could have been expected. and I’m not beating myself up about it. but it’s like, you get fed up, ya know? with the chaos? and you just wanna say “enough is enough” and fix everything right then and there.

the chaos typically doesn’t go anywhere, if I’m being honest. mostly because it’s internal (for me, at least!) haha, but it improves my internal state if I get shit done.

which is a huge reason why I neeeeeed my ADHD meds, and why I need to continue looking up and learning about the delicate relationship between bipolar disorder and ADHD, but I don’t wanna get into that now

[read my article on Libero Magazine about my experience with that, if you want]

usually when I feel like the chaos is gonna make me explode, I do a certain number of things in a certain order…

  • make my environment immediately more inviting: open a window, light a candle, spray some lavender
  • set a timer for ten minutes. make sure the alarm/song for when the timer goes off is fun.
  • clean like hell really quickly but try to get as much done as possible, spread as widely as possible (like, don’t organize inside the dresser drawers bc that has a narrow scope; instead, clean a little in the bedroom, a little in the living room, a little in the kitchen)
  • freshen up (because it’s hot after cleaning): wash face, brush teeth, put moisturizer on, etc
  • journal? read? social media catch-up? whatever, just unwind in a way that doesn’t bring all that momentum to a complete dead stop, because that only makes it feel shitty again

today I actually have some more important shit to do than just cleaning and organizing.

I have to work on some of my volunteer work, which should be fun, but it might require a lot of my brain.

and I have to do stuff for my class. work on all the tests I need to finish by november. and I also wanna like…gather my thoughts on the whole thing. really get my opinions and ideas together. I wanna talk about it with my therapist next week.

therapy today was awesome, as always ❤ I was in a mopey mood this morning (as I have been for like two weeks…possibly because of the steroids, possibly because I’m heading for a full-blown episode…not sure, and not sure I want to dwell on it) but anyway, she always knows how to distract me and get me out of it. get me talking and being like, MYSELF (my talkative, excitable self) and I love her for that reason (and many others).

^^ that was two days ago, a fun reminder from one of my mood tracking apps

[today I broke the “meh” streak, by the way!]

okay I’m gonna stop procrastinating and get to work. this has been fun, this update featuring the pointless pictures I take and save and have ✌

have a lovely monday, bloggerrssssss!!

Managing my mental health

I had a random thought pop into my had and I was thinking about it. And I know there are countless ways to dive into this topic and that there’s so much under the umbrella of mental health management because mental health is made up of so many different things. But I think, for me, there are three components to staying on top of it. Even typing that feels weird because the number three doesn’t capture how hugely important mental health is. But at it’s most basic level, at this point in time with my current train of thought, it comes down to:

  1. What goes into my body. My meds, obviously. And vitamins and supplements, which I take because there’s no harm in doing so. Food. Water. You get the point.
  2. The things that I do. How I use my body and brain. My daily routines, the habits I’ve formed (and have tried to keep healthy). Journaling. Tracking my moods and anxiety and sleep. Going to therapy.
  3. The thoughts in my mind. What I focus on. How often I renew my motivation. My internal monologue and self-talk.

I need the most work in the category of thoughts. I am consistent with what I take in terms of meds (finally) and supplements, and I’ve been making more effort to drink enough water, and now that I’m saner (thanks, lithium) I’m not struggling with eating as much. I’m pretty good with my structured routines, even though this period of time is difficult and different, with the quarantine and whatnot.

But now I have to be careful about what I do with my mind and my thoughts.

I think a key thing I can do to make sure I’m thinking positively is to work on only consuming content that makes me feel good. I’ve been bored (obviously), so I’ve been spending too much time on YouTube. Which is fine, but I have to really put in the effort to process how I feel about it. I enjoy it (mostly) but also feel guilty about enjoying it (since I’m mindlessly consuming what other people create instead of creating myself, I guess!) and compare myself to these random influencers (which I honestly rarely do in real life).

I’d love to rattle off some statistics about how much content the average person consumes every day, but I also don’t wanna do that so suffice it to say it’s an overwhelming amount. YouTube videos, news websites, blogs, social media, apps, music, podcasts, shows, books, movies…so much going into our brains ahhhhh. It totally makes sense that I’m thinking about how to make sure it’s mostly positive and helpful (because what goes into my brain influences how my life is). Anything to keep me in a good frame of mind, with THIS EXACT level of sanity (I spent far too long fighting with myself and my moods and my brain and my disorder, and now that I’m okay let’s fuckin’ keep it that way, shall we?), and every little bit helps.

The renewing the motivation thing is also important for me. I have this desperate desire to be productive because it is somehow linked to my worth (I know, I know, I’m working on fixing that). But I’m not always productive. I have ADHD and my moods get in the way sometimes and oh yeah I’m a human being haha, and that’s just how humans are. But I think it’s a matter of getting back on the horse when I’m unfocused or can’t seem to do what I want/need to do. Not getting discouraged or thinking it’s the end of the world.

While this post might seem totally pointless, I just want to say that I love writingggggg because I can start with some random thought I had a few hours ago and make sense of it (sort of) and it makes me happy!

again

I am completely exhausted. Insomnia has finally given way to excessive sleeping, or maybe it’s just because I’ve been taking multiple doses of multiple sleep aids every night, starting at five, just to become unconscious. I don’t want to have to think. Although I say that as if thinking is an active process at this point. It’s something that just happens. I’m dragged into it. The thoughts come in, rising like floodwaters, forcing me wherever they want me to go. My moods move in a similar, violent fashion, dragging me with them in a deranging pattern that seems never to end. I’m scared, as dramatic as it may seem to say. There’s no other way to describe it. Nothing else seems to capture what this feels like, although everyone I come across who sees my dead expression and my body twisted with anxiety seems to “understand.” Because, apparently, they’ve felt the same way at one point or another. I need that to not be true. Because if “everyone” feels this intensely terrible, then what in the fuck is wrong with me? Have they really experienced the painful ripping of their sanity from their brain? Repeatedly? Have they suffered the debilitating fear waiting for it to happen again? Have they been pulverized by the gravity of the rage within them, caused and quelled by absolutely nothing? Have they collapsed into bed, exhausted from staring blankly into space trying to summon the will to move. Have they laid there in agony that stems from nowhere, that goes on without a beginning or an end, an explanation or a solution? Cried empty tears for hours? Heaved heavy sobs until the accompanying headache stops them in their tracks? Yes, sadness happens to all of us. And yes, even depression can be felt by those still lucky enough to not have bipolar disorder. But do not. do NOT tell me you understand. Don’t insult me like that. Don’t compare your commonplace emotions to the colliding hurricanes of unwarranted pain I am tortured into feeling. Your sadness was caused by something, and I don’t deny how much that sucks. But my suffering comes without reason. There is nothing to blame it on, and nothing to repair to try to end it. It is meaningless, but its omnipresence demands it be given a meaning. Confusion rips into every aspect of who I am. My concentration is turned to smoke and dissipates like it never existed. I am sick with it. My appetite is stolen and morphed into disgust. Mr. Hyde to its Dr. Jekyll, they are one and the same, and maybe one is an excuse for the other as goes the moral of the story, but how can I be blamed for the defect thrust into me, for the malfunction that invaded my body and soul like a virus and continues to violate my every moment. Survival is all I can hope for. Day to day, minute to minute. Breathe. Inhale. Exhale. Repeat. It is heavy, the air like lead, but there is no cure. There is nothing left to do. Deal with it. Barely get by, but get by. It requires constant distraction. Frantic, panicked distraction. One wrong thought and I’m paralyzed. One spare moment and I’m incapacitated, another day wasted in the darkness of my mind in the darkness of my bedroom in the darkness of life itself. It wouldn’t be so extreme if it didn’t bring powerful uncertainty and unintelligible, mangled discomfort. All-consuming distress. My deadened eyes announce the signs of visible resignation. The dark bags have never left, and I don’t need a mirror to know they’re getting more pronounced. I scream into my pillow, not actually hearing the blood-curdling slice through the silence. It’s a faraway sound. It might be coming from something outside of myself, but what does it matter if I don’t have a concept of who in the fuck I even am? Spiral again. Spiral further into it. Rather than reaching for relief, clinging to whatever remnants of happiness I can find in my memories, I give up. Relief would only be fleeting. Why bother? Maybe giving myself up for consumption will get this whole ordeal over with sooner. But for now, existing is difficult. Building myself up over and over again is futile, but I have to keep doing it if I want to drag myself from under my covers to the bathroom at least twice a day. My brain is mush, but it’s still firing neurons or something, I’m still alive or something, so I’m left with gray matter leaking down into the rest of me. It’s sticky, and a sickening sight. And it lacks the neurotransmitters that might be some sort of help in this fucked up situation, lucky me. I am left with a mind disconnected, sensations out of my control, moods trying to escape the bounds of their intangible nature, and a stomach ache. Congratulations to me, I’m having en episode.

Different days can take different forms. Rolling with it.

It’s a new day, sunny and bright. The snow that fell quietly but persistently yesterday is melting. I’m off from work again. I was yesterday, too, and it was a “do literally nothing all day” day, where we didn’t leave the house at all, even to shovel. I woke up and changed into sweatpants and a hoodie and put on thick fuzzy socks and made like four cups of tea (after having coffee, obviously). I enjoyed it a lot. Before for the boredom-turned-to-existential-dread feeling kicked in, of course. My mood took a dip, but not in an overly-dramatic bipolar way. I was just “blah” and “off.” It was survivable.

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Right, but as I said, it’s a new day and that’s brought a fresh start and plenty of possibilities (what a cliche but inspiring thought). I can shape this day any way I want to. I don’t have a specific plan for today, other than hopefully bang out the rest of the article I’m writing for that eating disorder magazine, and maybe the other article I’m writing for the psych magazine. And I’m hoping to get a movie in, or maybe a few episodes of whatever funny tv show I feel like binging. Basically, I want to repeat yesterday but with more…pizzaz. Or something similar haha.

For now, though, I’m flipping through my planner and sort of reviewing my 2020 goals #letgetit. It’s almost the end of January (holy shit that went fast). And I haven’t totally forgotten what I wanna do this year. I’ve pretty much followed through. I didn’t include anything completely life-altering on my list of shit to do but having the reminders written down and knocking around in my head definitely help direct me.

Basically: Don’t miss any days of meds, take those vitamins and supplements, drink more water, go for a walk every once in a while and move more in general. There’s obviously shit like “read more” on there, and that goes along with “work on writing more, find more writing jobs, submit some short stories to competitions, and take some writing classes.” And the obvious, save money. The more specific things are to whiten my teeth and make sure my skin isn’t constantly dry. Oh, and I wanna start writing more here (and maybe get people to actually read it? haha).

Anywayyyy, so far, at 10:30 in the morning, today looks like it’s shaping up to be a good one. I’m determined for it to be. To continue with the subtle metaphor I’m going with, I’m gonna be like a fricken sculptor to make sure of it.

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Boom. Happy Sunday, people 🙂

Waking up like “how long will it take for the weight of the day ahead to smash me into a bad mood,” and spending time to counteract life’s crap

woke up feeling shitty and anxious and mopey

spent lots of time wondering why i felt that way and thinking about confusing shit about how i have to constantly readjust my moods and how i’m literally just unsure of how to do that at this point

taking my adhd meds helped because now i can at least focus on something distracting or productive

ingesting hella caffeine is making me feel better too

and my favorite band (reel big fish) playing in the background is working to make me not feel shitty

anyway

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and now for a vaguely poetic brain dump

 

Wake up.

It’s comfortable at first, and then the world hits you.

Mind too big in a world too small.

Or perhaps the opposite.

Because there are too many thoughts,

Too much noise at too high a volume,

But there’s too much room for it all to fly free in total chaos

Which means you have to focus,

Use specific, deliberate effort to adjust and readjust.

It requires all of you,

The effort,

The fight, from within and without, against unseen demons.

And as you look around at the confusion

That has nearly turned your mind,

Too big and too small,

Into ruins.

Get it out.

It’s urgent to do so.

Spill it, pour it, put it elsewhere,

Into the ether

Or onto a page that may or may not be read

Or even remembered.

An hour into consciousness and you’re tired and unsure.

Anxious? Depressed? Empty?

(You are continually putting words to the intangible,

But somehow can’t when it comes to emotions, those mercurial things).

Take your meds. Drink some water. Eat something.

What are you even doing,

Sitting there comatose when you have shit to do?

Inhale. Exhale.

How can you hold it together today?

What’s the plan (you’ll be lost without one)?

Put on some music,

Your favorite band,

Turn it up.

The forceful pressure recedes, permitting some sort of flow,

Some influx of something that resembles calm,

Some release.

Your mind shrinks,

Or perhaps grows,

But you’re not analyzing it so you feel better.

Your free-flying thoughts organize into

What is more reminiscent of graduation caps mid-air,

Thrown up in celebration of achievement.

Still messy.

It’ll take time to find your cap, the one you were looking for.

That doesn’t necessarily matter;

The photographer snapped a picture and the frozen moment makes you happy.

Organized.

So maybe, you think, there’s something to strive for

In the potential to turn a day around

(or a month, a year, a life).

Potential for new thoughts,

For finding happiness as opposed to forcing something vaguely similar to it,

For not letting sadness with when all else fails

Because you’re coming at life with full force.

Although survival mode played its role,

It’s in the past for now.

So tomorrow if you have to drag yourself out of bed

As you doubt your ability to get through the day,

Don’t wallow in confusion.

Let it out, find the words, 

Take your meds, drink some water, eat something.

Breathe. Music.

Let your mind shift, take shape, rearrange and reorganize.

Give it time, don’t dwell, stay calm, and fight hard.

After all,

Haven’t you proven your strength to yourself yet?