I stopped taking my meds.
I felt good at first, but I think it was because I felt numb. But my jokes about suicide got darker, my friends were getting worried. Then there was an issue with my doctor’s office and the refill was delayed so I said eff it.
I missed writing and being creative. I’ve been feeling that spark again. But with it comes the sadness. My doctor and my friends keep recommending therapy, and while I’m so pro-therapy, I can’t get myself to take my own advice and schedule an appointment. I think it’s because I don’t trust anyone. I tried therapy when I was in middle school or junior high and they told my parents everything I said. I needed help and someone to talk to and instead the told my parents about me trying to kill myself from overdosing and cutting myself in places no one would see and my parents freaked out so I lied. After my parents got divorced, I tried to go again but I was so silent I made everything awkward. I said I was fine and didn’t feel the need to be there.
But my heart is heavy. I have all of my feelings back, my creativity, but no motivation. Or do I hold myself back out of fear of rejection and criticism?
I podcasted, I streamed, I make tiktoks, I write; I’m too inconsistent to make anything out of anything.
I can’t even keep up with my own website/blog. I may disband this eventually.
I finally did it… I went to a doctor and talked about some thoughts, feelings, behaviors I’m noticing, etc. They diagnosed me with anxiety and depression and prescribed me an SSRI. It was nice that it wasn’t pressured. It was an option, therapy was promoted more. I took the weekend to think it over and I started a low dose on Tuesday.
I’m tired. All the time. But I work crazy hours and keep myself going. I’m still productive, but I don’t have the fire I use to. My friend called to check on me, she could hear a difference. She said I sounded flat. I get a little nauseous in the morning, but it usually only lasts a few minutes. I tried playing a video game last night and I was just awful. Like my reaction time was so slow. It made me really sad. But I’m going to try again this weekend. It seems I feel more sluggish in the morning and before bed. I’ve been taking the meds in the evening because I was afraid I’d be too tired during the day.
The upside, my brain is still mine. I still have the same thoughts and feelings. I just don’t get as stressed out. I don’t jump to conclusions as quick or react negatively right off the bat. Like it toned my emotions down to let my brain process what’s happening and make a more conscious decision. I just need to get passed the tired phase, at least I hope it’s a phase. I feel dizzy right now actually. Like pressure in my head and my face is numb. This happened Wednesday too. It’s weird. I need a nap.
So, in true one thing after another fashion… I’m now working 60+ hours a week. My brain won’t stop thinking about new story ideas… UNTIL I HAVE TIME TO SIT DOWN AND WRITE.
I also realize again just how awful I am at being social on the internet. Because on one hand I just want to share my writing and I want people to love it, but on the other hand, I’m still terrified someone will steal it. I don’t know why I’m so paranoid, there’s so many fun works floating out there from other amateur writers. I’m sure it’s just my brain being against me.
Also, I’ve been really sad lately because I love Webtoons and I think I could move my stories into Webtoons, but I have no artistic talent or no any artists interest in that medium.
Blech. It’ll be fine. I’m sure.
Bad News: I have 1 brain cell and it’s too exhausted to help me with any kind of story development.
Good News: An adrenaline rush gave me enough of a spark to tack on some cutesy stuff to an already cutesy section.
Bad News: I love smut and IT’S SO HARD thatswhatshesaid not to devolve “Good Enough” into that. I go back and forth because why can’t a bit of smut be okay? People still love Game of Thrones. But then I worry that it’ll be disregarded as a trashy romance novel. But also, I love trashy romance novels and my fanfiction is basically just trashy romance scenes and I love writing them as much as I do reading them so what’s the problem if I enjoy it? Then I think But it won’t be marketable. And then I think 50 Shades of Grey and then I think who the f*** is going to publish me anyway?
A friend passed away the other day due to health complications. Because these last few weeks haven’t been hard enough.
Funerals are expensive and his pseudo-brother is organizing it. If you can find it in your heart to donate or share, it would be greatly appreciated.
Go Fund Me for Chris Ellington
So if you couldn’t tell, I’m not super consistent with my updates.
I’ve been extra tired lately. The loss of my grandmother hits me in unexpected waves and I feel a constant looming sadness. Guilt comes to me at random as well. I’m not the best at dealing with trauma. I don’t know how to process it.
Not an excuse, but a reality. I still want to write. I’m continue soon. But I just wanted to vent into the void.
I would check the weather for my grandma when we Skyped. Her location is saved in my weather app. My heart hurts.
The beat of the music reverberated through Charlie’s chest. Her senses were confused in this atmosphere; between the alcohol, sweat, and various perfumes, she almost couldn’t breathe. It was dark, except for the colorful lasers and lights cutting through the crowd at random. The only solid light was a faint glow from the bar.
Charlie followed Misha to the bar and watched her slip between a cluster of people waiting for their drinks. She looked around the busy club; tall round tables and stools separated the bar from the dance floor. When Charlie squinted, she could see only what she could assume is the VIP section: velvet ropes, large men in suits at the entrance, beautiful waitresses, and people dressed in outfits that cost more than her salary seated on plush-looking couches. What’s it like-.
Misha spun around and held a full shot glass in front of Charlie’s face. “Drink up!” To Misha’s surprise, Charlie grabbed the glass and downed the shot quickly.
Does time actually heal you? Or do you just get use to the circumstance?
I lost my grandmother yesterday. In the course of 15 minutes, I was told she was in the hospital, she was going to hospice, and she had passed.
She had health problems, but had kept the severity of them from the family. This was a surprise.
We were close. We lived far apart, we didn’t physically see each other much in the last 10 years, but we talked all the time. We had a bond.
I looked up to her. And now she’s gone.
This eternal disconnect from someone so close hurts. And that’s the best way I can explain it.