Sunday, October 9, 2011

I'm Tired

  • I can't sleep
  • I'm tired
  • I'm lethargic
  • I'm tired
  • I'm dizzy
  • I'm tired
  • I hate laundry
  • I'm tired
  • I hate cooking
  • I'm tired
  • I hate cleaning
  • I'm tired
  • I want a nap
  • I'm tired
  • I can't sleep
Did I mention I'm tired?

Friday, April 29, 2011

Hope Shines Through

So, I stopped taking that stupid medicine my idiot shrink gave me. I haven't taken it for 4 days now and every day I am starting to feel a little bit better. It was awful! Not only was it making me super depressed, but it was also making me extremely paranoid. I have also started to take my Xanax twice a day, like it says on the label, instead of 'as needed', and that too has really helped. I am way more mellow now, but I am still feeling slightly depressed. At this point I really don't care about that though, it beats feeling the way I did on that dumb medicine. Another horrible thing about it was it made me voraciously hungry, I had to force myself to not constantly munch, and I totally gained weight within a couple of weeks, my pants are snug. But now my appetite is back to normal and I have a little more energy. To sum everything up: the medicine sucked, my shrink is stupid, and I am feeling a little more hopeful about my situation.

Thursday, April 28, 2011

Sigh...

So, I don't think the new medication is working, I think it is only making it worse, so, I stopped taking it. I'm slightly less tired now, but I am still depressed, yet slightly manic at the same time (I'm tired, yet I can't sleep) :(

What's a girl to do?

I am thinking about going to a new shrink, mine just seems to want to push pills instead of listening to me and truly trying to figure out what would be best for me. Why does this whole process have to be so painstakingly difficult, especially for someone who can't gather up enough energy to do something about it. No wonder, most of us prefer to wallow and be trapped in our mental prison rather than actively seek help for it; it is so dang hard to find a good combo of shrink, therapist, and medication.

You truly wouldn't believe what a nightmare it is. It makes one feel hopeless and helpless. And please, no "well, if you would just do this..." or "You should try this..." Let me have my pity party for now, believe it or not it can be constructive. The last thing a mentally ill person wants is to be treated like a helpless child or lazy bum. And no, I'm not talking about anyone in particular here, just generalizing. I hate the standard fix-it-all remedy that everyone tries to feed me, "Well, if you would jut get out and do something..." When people say that it truly means they don't get it and never will. Believe me that doesn't fix anything, it just gets me out of the house where I can feel miserable out in public (not a fun or desirable thing when I feel this way).

Now there are times when I want to get out, and that is great, and when I feel that way it does make me feel better, but I have to feel well enough to have the energy to do so. Ah, it is all such a conundrum. Oh, well. Sorry for the rant, but I must admit I feel slightly better.

Saturday, April 16, 2011

Whatever....

Yeah, yeah, we all know I'm doing crappy when I write poetry, but let's just get over it, I know I have. I sort of have to since it's simply part of my life. And let's just hope my new medication works and pulls me out of this b.s. Yes, I'm not happy about all of this, can you blame me? So, blah, blah, blah, whatever. Make of it what you will.

Desert Sand
I feel lost, alone and hopeless
Trapped inside the abyss of myself
In this drowning desert sand.
I wander aimlessly, searching
Desperate to find the comfort of another
In this forsaken, friendless land.
But for all the doors I've opened
There is no one here to release me
From this selfish desert sand.
It's choking me, controlling me
Detaching me from the truth
All I need is a friendly, helping hand.
Though, no one hears my desperate cries
For my screams are weak and stifled
By this ever-shifting desert sand.
I struggle and I fight it
But in the end it's easier to give in
So, quietly I sink into, that desert dark and grand.

Friday, November 19, 2010

Random Poem

Okay, don't everyone get worried (that means you mom), I'm not in a deep depression or anything this is merely a poem I found in my notebook that I'd forgotten I'd even written, so I thought I'd post it.

The Darkness
The darkness has returned to me,
It's eating me alive,
It's staring down its nose at me,
And I feel like a child of five.
It chases me around and round,
But I cannot seem to flee.
And all too soon it has me bound,
Once again engulfing me.

Wednesday, October 6, 2010

Going through Withdrawal

I had been on a manic high for a while, where I felt great, could get things done, and was simply happy. But now...I'm coming down. I don't like it when I come off a high. I feel like a druggie going through withdrawal. I'm starting to sink into the depths of my mental hell again and it sucks. Literally, I can feel it sucking at me, drawing me in, trying to eat me alive. The sad thing is, as much as I hate to be off my manic highs, I sometimes like my depressive lows because my writing tends to get a little more...creative, you might say. My writing becomes more colorful and vivid, more alive. My characters gain more depth. Possibly because when I am so down they seem to run rampant and be a little closer to the surface than they probably should be. Huh, I really think I am going crazy. Well, at least it could be worse, I suppose. I could be foaming at the mouth, lolling my head around, rocking back-and-forth, pumped full of meds, kind of crazy instead of the level of craziness I've already seemed to have achieved. If that ever happens to me I hope I'm just far enough along in my mental hell to not know what the hell is going on. On that note, have a great day!

Tuesday, August 17, 2010

Imaginary Friends

I really feel like I have gone completely insane, but maybe this happens to everyone in the world of writers. I have this imaginary world inside my head, where all my imaginary friends abound. They are the characters from stories I have written, ones I am working on, and ones begging me to write about them.

Whenever my muse (the driving force that makes my imagination flow and demands that I write) comes to visit this world and my friends in it seem to take over my brain. I tend to zone out during the day, I'm super spacey (well, more than usual) and all I can think about are the many stories I can create, the different scenario's and character's I can bring to life on paper or in a Word document.

I go through the day with this pressing at the back of my mind and sometimes it consumes me and I simply have to stop what I am doing and jot notes down, or dialogue that pops into my crazy brain. So, I always carry a notepad with me, and I even have one beside my bed, because sometimes I wake up in the middle of the night with an idea and I have to write it down or else it bugs me and I can't get back to sleep.

So, am I crazy or just an eccentric author? Maybe both? Whatever the situation, I really don't mind. My imaginary world is a fun, intriguing place and my imaginary friends who reside there are full of surprises and happy that I am able to tell their stories. My favorite out of all of them has to be Mael. He is the most dynamic character I have ever written and he demands that I share more about him; which is becoming a fun project.

Well, there you have it; a glimpse into my crazy mind. I wish I could let you visit, but then I also enjoy having my own private paradise that I can escape to whenever life gets overwhelming and dreary. I think everyone should have their own mental oasis.