Muscles, Mimosas, and Misery

The seconds tick by like hours Death death death do I scream No answer Why am I still fighting

I know I want to write.  Fuck...it is so hard to write.  I have so many thoughts inside my head.  I am so tired and yet so awake.  I want to do so much and so little.  I want to be alone and surrounded by people.  I want to wash the dogs, clean my entire house, organize my new room, write poetry, write prose, write about my life experiences, do laundry, run 3 miles, dance, and now cut myself.  How can one person exist with all of this inside their head?  How can I survive with all of this inside my head.  I want relief.  At first, I was enjoying this ride, but now I want off.  What does it take to get off this ride?  Have I always existed like this?  How have I always existed like this?  Can I just have one thought?  One task?  I'm sleepy and do not want to sleep.  Someone please help me

I want an extraordinary life where I do extraordinary things.  In all the turmoil I have been experiencing lately, this I can say with absolute certainty.  I want an extraordinary life where I do extraordinary things.  The next part of this is figuring out what that really means for me.

I think I had a psychotic episode the other night. I definitely had a mixed episode or possibly extreme rapid cycling.  I've been reluctant to try and fix my head until that moment.  The worst part about it was that I had experienced parts of it before.  It was that remembered experience that let me know just how bad things are and how bad things can get.  I don't want to go back to that place.  The only positive I can say for it, is that I am relieved to know that when I quit life previously I really was having severe mental problems.  Now I know just how severe. So, what happened?  I will do my best to describe it, but in writing I can never capture the true feeling.  Things were going well, better than they had in a long time.  Ben and I were in the kitchen talking and joking around.  Then a message came across my screen and Ben got annoyed/dejected.  He said he just needed a minute.  His request was normal; my reaction wa...

I went to the psychiatrist today.  Overall, it was....well...it was an experience.  I have been terrified of taking meds from the beginning.  This fear has fueled my anxiety towards the psychiatry visit.  I was cool, calm, and collected as I pulled into the parking lot.  I was calm and confident as I opened the door to the building, but the moment I entered the waiting room panic welled up inside me.  "Fuck, I'm really hear," I thought.  The initial process was no different from any other doctor's office.  I filled out the intake paperwork and had my vitals taken.  I was then sent back to the waiting room.  A few minutes later I was called back to the "exam" room and my panic continued to grow. My therapist had been very insistent that I see the actual psychiatrist.  I would have been so much more comfortable if I had seen the psychiatrist.  Instead, I saw the nurse practitioner.  I have nothing against nurses, and I kno...

It is so much easier to be manic than it is to be depressed.  In mania the world is full of possibility and potential.  In depression the world is a grey, empty wasteland of nothingness.  Everyday life seems unbearable.  There are no small moments to look forward to.  Life is the daily drudge of simply being alive.  The one thing that both mania and depression have in common is that the cure for both, in my mind, is replacing this life with one full of possibility and excitement.  In mania, however, I see this as possible.  In depression, I do not see this as possible. I must decide what I want my life to be.  I do not know if I can do that.  Is it even possible to know?  I keep asking myself, am I truly not happy with this life or is it illness that makes me unhappy ?  What does my fulfilled life look like?  In depression I know the chances of me being a  professional writer are very small.  Would I even be ha...

I'm paralyzed.  I don't know where to begin, and I don't know where to end.  My life has been a beautiful mass of swirling impulsive decisions intermingled with clear headed thoughtful moves.  I now sit and ponder this extraordinary life while I sip my morning coffee. A purring tortoise shell cat sits in my lap; if I pet her she will leave. The last few months of my life have been a blur of excitement, impulsiveness, and mental illness. Even if nothing changes, my life is forever altered. In this moment, I know that I am not happy with my current life.  My life is structured and stable. I have a steady and boring job with planned vacations, health insurance, and a 401K.  I know all of those are good things, and those are not things that I want to give up, but I desire something more from this life.  I want something that my current situation is not providing me.  I'm not sure I know what that something is. I run into the arms of madness because of ...