This will end up being a list post, but I want to first interject that it is hard as hell living with mental illness and every good day should be celebrated. Don’t get me wrong, there HAVE been good days, and there will be more. Right now, what I am trying to purge from my system is all the negative stuff that I can’t seem to talk about in the place where I need to the most:
1) My nightmares have come to the point again where I am terrified of sleep, terrified of bed.
2) The stuff of nightmares keeps me from wanting to leave the house…like, ever
3) I have not seen the inside of any type of store, including even a convenience store, in over two months. I have not even tried. There are people in there, you realize.
4) I have been hiding my crying spells. From my therapist, my med doc, my art therapist, LarBear, my mom, my dad. I know what crying spells mean, and I don’t want anyone to know it is happening at an alarming rate at this point in time.
5) I absolutely cannot manage without Klonopin at scheduled times throughout the day. I keep trying to skip it, and I keep having breakdowns and am told to take my Klonopin.
6) I am stuck with my jewelry. It’s not fun to make, to plan, to do. I feel absolutely defeated by the lack of activity on my Facebook page for it, and I end up giving it away because I don’t think it is good enough, anyway, to sell, and neither, apparently, does anyone else.
7) I am very close to giving up on some various people in my life. I decided a while back to no longer be in contact with my ex-step-father. I am very close to that in a few other relationships. I am tired of caring and not getting caring back.
8) I don’t feel like there is a safe place for me to go whenever (if) home begins to feel unsafe. They use the crisis house as an overflow for social detox — the award for fuckhead of the year goes to whoever made that decision, because if I am sick enough to be there, I am too sick to not be taken advantage by one of those addicts.
9) My weight is at an all-time high, and I am not sure what else to do. Sure, I need to move more, but I eat quite healthfully and smaller-size portions, and Seroquel (my psychiatrists guess) or the tides of the moon or terrible chemistry makes me gain ten pounds if I so much as look at a cheeseburger. I have completely stopped bingeing, and I am gaining weight. There seems little fairness in that.
10) I get tired of feeling depressed constantly, so I often put on that mask that says everything is fine. Dear Mental Health Gods: I am really, really tired of having to do that. Most things in my life are going swimmingly right now, can I please catch a break?