Things that change

There are things that are going to change over time in a person:

Such as their appearance, status, health, how much money they have, their workplace, employment status, world views…

But things like character and personality are most likely not going to. It’s common, but foolish to judge someone by their external current state of being. It takes a wise person to look beyond the transient.

I’m so sorry, so please just go away

I said sorry, so please go away.

You’re only a figment of my imagination-

A cruel, crude copy of someone more than 2000 miles away;

But you know too well how to guilt trip me.

Over and over again,

You get into the deepest of my wounds

To remind what happened that day with you.

I did nothing wrong, and the same with you-

(I mean, the real you,)

But I’m having to suffer over and over again at the

Imaginary awkwardness, pain, embarrassment, lonliness that I felt in my head

This helps me and my life zero percent.

I said I’m so sorry. Please accept that and go away.

I can’t wait to go to sleep

I wish today was over already. Weekends make me depressed because my life has basically been a weekend away from most of my adult responsibilities in the last year or so, so when you give someone a weekend away from the weekend, then that’s when things get a little stressful. How would you react if someone told you to relax when you are already bloody relaxing? Maybe it’s time to get a job/go back to school you ask? (Not you, reader, but I’m addressing my negative self-talk) Well, I wish I could, but seeing as I’m still struggling physically to get out of bed and do things sometimes, I desperately want to get back to having a life, I cannot. I am still not able to hold down a job, go to school, or be in a relationship of any kind. I’m just not there yet, as they all say. I tried, you know, I tried to go to full time classes and freelance just last month- the result was a horrendous downward spiral into a really dark time.

I draw to keep myself sane these days. I draw every single day. Sometimes, that’s all I can manage. Otherwise, I have no desire to do anything today. I feel pretty much nothing, and things (regardless of how things are realistically) seem futile and pointless. Life seems pointless (no matter what the truth is). I can’t shake these feelings that pull me further and further into another depression, it’s like watching myself fall- in slow motion.

It’s almost 7pm right now, and there are only two more hours until I can go to bed without feeling like I’m wasting my life sleeping. I cannot wait to not be in reality.

Going bonkers

Therapy (emotionally) hurt today. It was like putting salt in the wound, or breaking a piece of bone that was healing the wrong way. I’m not mad about it, but I acknowledge that it hurt really badly.

It was about my workaholism and how I bend backwards to please people who are paying for me to do any job. I noticed that whatever I do, whether I love the thing that I’m doing or not, I get obsessive about it. I compulsively checking for errors, or redoing things that don’t really need redoing just because I see flaws. And I see flaws everywhere in my work- I cannot unsee it. That usually ends up costing me my health and my sanity, and sometimes, as a result, my job.

It’s a sensitive topic for me because I am more self conscious about my work product than myself as a person. I can laugh off jokes about how I look and how I talk, but I have a hard time laughing off jokes about my abilities or intellectual capacity. I take other people’s opinions about them more seriously than I should, and it’s a weakness that I’m aware of.

I hate that I had to go back and access the memories right before I got hospitalized etc. to talk about these issues I had with C, but there was no other way to process. I got really upset talking about it and had to miss my class afterwards because I felt like I was retraumatized. I think it was a useful discussion to have, but with my confidence so low and my depression not yet gone, it was extremely difficult for me to talk through reasons why I could not stay at my old job like most normal people.

Speaking of normality, I feel isolated and sad because I remembered that I lost all my friends before my diagnosis. I made some new ones, but it’s hard to have the same kind of conversations with someone new. I worry that once I get older and when my parents are no longer there, I will literally have no one, and that I’m going to die alone in my apartment and not be found while my cat eats my face to survive.

I just read everything again, and clearly I’m spiraling tonight.

Two steps back one foot forward

Thank you for being there for me, everyone. Your comments, likes and reads have helped me to hold on to dear life this past week. I truly think your thoughts and prayers got heard, and the mental health gods decided to spare me this time, again.

Motivation is coming back to me, slowly. I’m not as triggered by things and the dissociation went away. I’m so thankful that this depressive episode was just a short one.

Here is where I went wrong. I thought I was safe, and that my rapid cycling bipolar had stabilized because I had been more than OK for more than two months. But it humbled me again with another episode. I’m never safe. I’m never cured, even with the help of anything. It has to be managed. I think I put too much stress on myself by taking up full time classes and freelance jobs. They were great experiences, but I feel like I put those job related things before my mental health- and if I don’t want another episode in the future, that really needs to change. So, this month has been two steps back. We live and learn.

The state I am in

You know when things are off when you need to take a day off from art class (also known to me as, the most relaxing activity in the world).

I’ve fallen off the bipolar horse and am getting trampled by it again, big time. I’m dissociating pretty badly, and I’m still numb, lacking appetite, and feeling pretty confused, and out of it.

People often equate bipolar as getting a boost of creativity, but that’s a huge misconception. When I have depressive episodes, I can’t even pick up a pencil, let alone finish something. I’m making myself paint because I think I would feel much worse if I didn’t. I can’t say the results are that good.

I’m trying to stay away from social media as well as actual people, because I know I’m super vulnerable right now. Any small comment can throw my mind into symptoms of PTSD and all of that fun stuff. And I will get defensive most likely.

Sorry, this post isn’t all that interesting to read, or enlightening. In a city of millions of people, I just feel pathetic, sick, and so so alone, even when I’m with others.