This is what gets to me.

Sleep is supposed to be the best escape. Like people say it's like being dead for a while just without the commitment. But it's not like that for me. 

As I drift off into the land of mindful lucidity I become subject to the minds torture. Not even everything is bad, I mean sure I have nightmares, but this type of pain just builds and builds. I'm so irritable right now and seeing my mistakes haunt me night after night, like a reminder of how much I suck, it's driving me insane. 

I'm so mad all the time.

I'm so mad

How Polar of Me

It took me a while to believe and accept the fact that I have Bi-polar. Now that I know more about it and know more about myself its been easier to see.
In a matter of moments I can go from feeling invincible to completely broken.
Sometimes even at the same time. I can literally feel that exact moment my mentality switches. It's almost as if the life is being sucked right out of you.
I've been impressed lately with my ability to put a smile on even when it feels like life is irrelevant. Yes I do this to cover up my feelings but there's no use in letting everyone know how weak I feel when in a couple hours I'll be running around, joking and feeling fine. This is my problem and my life. I'm learning how to handle it.
But at night while I'm laying in bed alone I beg for it to be different. I dream of a mind that didn't seem like a maze and a life in which my emotions feel justified and not like a magic 8 ball.
I just want to be myself and it's been hell trying to admit that this is me. This is what I am. This is my normal.

Changing MY Life.

For many months now I've been on a journey of self discovery. Through countless tales of mistakes, triumphs, pill bottles, I've found myself back at the start.

But that does not leave me broken. 

I maxed out and flat lined on another prescription so what better to do than go off my meds completely and be myself for a while. The medications didn't bother me, they just quit working. It's switching from med to med that has been unbearable. Now that I've cleared the last of my meds from my system I'm feeling much better. Going to the counselor did help a lot but it just may not be for me. The first few sessions I opened up and filled my crazy into the room and stuttered, and cried and felt more vulnerable than I ever had before but it didn't take long for me to start closing up, lying, and putting a smile on like everything was being fixed. I stopped going.

It's hard to not beat myself up over this. I tried so hard to find help. I left everyone I knew, everything I loved and still ended up empty handed kicking myself in the ass wishing I could just make it all stop..
So where do I go from here?
I've been working on confidence, I've been losing weight, singing, dancing, creating, I'm really proud of myself and the things I've done.
But this doesn't change the fact that I seem to always choose the worst decisions for myself. Things that grow on the inside and are so easy to hide away. I've been too impressed by my ability to put a smile on nowadays.
My way of fighting back from this mental curse is living without regret. When I put things into actions and words, it happened, it's out, nothing I can do about it after that fact. But nothing eats away at myself worse than not following through, remaining action less, doing nothing.
So I've challenged myself. To do it. Whatever crazy thought that runs through my crazy head, small or big. Life is way too damn short to keep regretting the things you didn't do.
I can't sit here and do nothing anymore. I force myself into peoples lives, for myself. I go out and have fun, for myself, even if no one wants to go. I need to do this for myself.
For me.
For this.
For life.

Changing a Life. Part Two.

A lots happened in the past few months. I've already been through my first med change. The Zoloft began to wear off, so why continue taking something if it's not doing a damn thing. So immediately I was switched to Prozac with a Xanax chaser. With my increasing panic attacks I decided that it didn't sound like a bad idea. It didn't take long for me to find out this med switch was gonna be difficult. It was miserable. By this time I had finally given into counseling due to a mother induced intervention and an appointment set in the books with my name on it. And lucky me I got to have my first session right as it felt like my mind had fallen to shit, confused and cluttered with chemicals, drugs, alcohol. I was at an end. Counseling is not easy. I'm not the type of person who just opens up. It's difficult, but sometimes relieving.
Thankfully I found out that the Xanax makes me want to kill myself when I'm coming down from it. Haven't really touched that bottle since I figured that out.
Really the best thing to calm me down is weed, so fuck the doctors that are trying to keep me from getting my med card. (think of your patients for just a minute).
But one of the Techniques my counselor is making me try is that lovely "count to ten" method. It does work, i tried it, and as i was going into a panic attack, I found out I couldn't count, it always made me get side tracked and the deal of the game was to not be thinking of anything at all. I'm pretty sure it's safe to say that I never made it past 6 when I counted.
What really did helped me though was just telling myself to breath, no counting, no thinking, just breathing. It helped my mind get sidetracked, my heart rate slowed and I finally calmed  the fuck down, because we all know how hard that is for me.
I am glad that the Prozac has set in it seems to be doing okay now. I'm sure I'll get a dose upgrade soon so hopefully I don't flat line with it like the Zoloft. My counselor seems impressed with my change in composure in these past few weeks. I have warned her though that some days as good as I'm up, the harder I can fall. I guess this is was makes me feel so insane some days. I just would like some sort of stability in life, but it never seems like we'll have that comfort.
But I also love the spontaneity of life someday's. Though I might not always have the money, friends or support I need at the time, I know I could always uproot somewhere and work things out as they go.
As long as life is an experience.
 I'm tired of this average Jane stuff and everyone trying to be this perfect picture image. List all the things in a perfect image life, a family, kids, career, home. That's not a necessity for me. If it happens, then hell yeah, you know. But if it doesn't happen, then it doesn't. I just hope I have the drive to keep chasing the things I love. But I trust my passion. I've never really been the 'sell out' type of person. I know I can design and I believe I can go far. Never stop dreaming, and never believe your dream is unreachable. If you truly dream of a brighter future, you are the sun that will make it happen.
You must make it happen.  

Changing a life part. 1

Things have been changing. Everyday the layout of my life is changing , present and future changing so rapidly I get anxiety just typing about this. A few months ago I convinced myself I really needed help. Like really needed help.
It took me a while but I finally talked about my depression with my mom. It was hard for me to do this because I knew it would be hard for her. It's always difficult for me to show my imperfections with my parents. She got upset but I felt like it was very helpful to talk with her to compare and contrast our own conditions, she having bipolar, helped me feel safer going to a medication.
First doctor appointment:  My doctor is a girl and seems very nice. Asks your usual questions and recommends Zoloft 50mg for depression and anxiety and counseling.
I begin my medication immediately and work my way up to the dose. As the first few nights roll by I don't notice too much besides some wicked vivid dreams. My mind felt more active during my rem then during the day. After the medication set in I didn't really feel sad, maybe like one day out of the week I was depressed but the other days were different. I can't say I was happy because I didn't feel happy. I cant say i was sad because I didn't feel sad. I didn't feel anything. I barley even thought. For 8 hours a day at work I would listen to music and pace without having a normal human thought. This panicked me because I've never experienced my mind running this slow. I was in this confused state of whether this is normal and that I needed to adjust to it or if I couldn't handle it. It got to the point where I would have rather had felt pain than nothing at all but after some more time on my meds that feeling mellowed out and then eventually I began to get depressed more often and so on. All during this time the counseling center has been trying to contact me while I ignore calls due to stupidity, money and an underlying fear of it.
Second doctor appointment: After a very short question filled visit the Doc decides to up me to 100mg of Zoloft and still recommends counseling.
Right now I'm working my way up to this dose and I know my body feels different. I still get depressed. I feel like a little more often than before as well. 8 hours at work can seem like hell when your mind is against you for the moment. One thing I have noticed since upping this dose is that I haven't cried, for a while. It's not that I expect myself to cry every so often. There's just a lot of things happening in my life right now and so much I miss and regret. It's not like I ignore these feelings, it feels like they're building up somewhere and I'm leaving it for me to deal with later. But they're still there and they're still dwelling and I know it's only a matter of time when things come up.

Won't Forget You

I didn't know you long.
Hell I didn't know you that much at all.
Somewhere mixed between inter-webs and loneliness we found each other.
Nothing crazy, I guess we both just needed someone to talk to.
As days passed it was clear you wanted a little more and I wanted a little less. I guess life was just crazy and I'm not the type to try and get close with someone I've never met. So our conversations dwindled, but they never stopped. Everything seemed to go in waves. But for a while there was silence. After a week I finally got a message from you. You apologized. You had tried to kill yourself and stopped messaging while you were in the hospital. It took my breath away. Still stuck in a pit of depression you chose me to talk to. I stayed up with you until 5am saying anything I could to help. Anything. I was terrified. I mean, what are you supposed to say? Am I saying this right? How do you show support? I barely knew him. It wasn't like I was being an ass but I tried to be blunt. You needed friends and I said you needed to go out a make them. We talked for hours. Then finally I said goodnight because I had to be up in an hour for work and you messaged me "I know I don't know you, but I love you." I didn't know how to react because I wasn't sure the context you were using it as, but it made me think I said something right because you were still there.  Days went by we chatted a little things seemed okay.
One night I got a message from you, all it said was "hey". I remember seeing this message clear as day, right when you sent it, I got it. I put my phone down and didn't reply. I don't remember why but I chose not to answer at the moment and as the night went on my bad memory got the best of me. While driving to work in the morning I remembered, pulled out my phone and apologized.
No response. Not for hours. Not for days. Not from you.
Three days later I finally got a message. But it wasn't from you.
You were gone.
Not even two hours after the message you sent me your parents found you. Now here I was, I didn't even know your name and I have your parents looking to me for answers of why they're burying there son.  Preston. I was broken. I looked for every reason why I shouldn't feel guilty but even in my position I couldn't help but have my own world crash for a while. I wish I could have helped.
Then here I was in my own apartment not even a few days later and the expression on my face went from stoned to numb when my close friend told me he tried to kill himself three times that month and I couldn't even find the words to respond because I was scared. I was so scared. Every generic sentence I pushed out felt like a lie because I can't even keep my own shit together. I thought I was going to loose you too. I thought I was going to loose myself. I used to be able to help people with this stuff but it's gotten so hard lately. I don't know what wrong with me.  

I lost myself
for a while
I'm still lost
I don't even know what to do
In these past couple years so much has changed, things have been constantly transforming including myself. It seems I've let certain things go that were everything I had at moments. Music. Writing. Art. Love. All of it.
I'm out of whack and I need to fix it.
Hell I haven't even written on this thing. Sometimes I forget how cleansing it can be.
I know this won't fix everything, especially if I sit here and expect it to fix itself. I've got nothing to live for but I've got nothing to loose so here's to starting from square one. Here's what I need to fix.
Music I think I finally figured out why singing in front of people is so hard for me. I know I'm shy so that doesn't help but I believe the main reason is how much of an emotional thing music is for me. I tend to let things build up inside of me. I've never really been a person to talk to myself, or scream when nobody's around. I'm silent. I'm used to it, it's me. But when I play guitar and sing I feel as if I'm finally able to get something off my chest. The songs I love to play are extremely personal. So playing for someone I feel like I'm letting them into this place that nobody has seen. Every songs a different portal to see inside of some of my darkest places.
I want to work on this.  I want to be able to play in front of people, friends, open mic nights. I would just love to feel confident in being able to do that. It's going to be hard but I need to start doing this.
Writing Last night I went through my shoe box. This box was full of anything that has ever really meant something to me. Piles of notes, cards, odds and ends, love letters, and so on. After getting past little things from my college years I got to the bottom. Nobody would probably look twice at the ripped up scraps of paper, napkins, but yet the closer you get the worn down words of a lost soul were written on any piece of parchment I could find. Why was it so easy for me to just write in high school. There are days where I wish I could find the words that I used to. Journal after journal sit on my bookshelf filled with half written songs and napkin poems. These books have barely had a new entry since I started college. I know that I got busy but this isn't something I want to loose. I need to write.
I want to work on this. I know it's there in me I just need to push a little more. A new step that I want to take is spoken word poetry. It's hard to even think of myself standing in front of people and reciting a poem, let alone one of my own. I might start with some of my favorite poems from others to get used to talking and who knows maybe someday you'll see me up at an open mic night spilling my own heart out on stage. I love how powerful words can be and I want to embrace that.
Art Lately I've been blocked. I sit down, set up things, I'm all ready to go. Then I fail myself and at the end of the night still rest a blank page. Artist blocks can be a challenging wall to bust through but I can't let it crush my spirit. Until my tanks get set up for metal I'll be a little lost. I just need something new to keep me occupied but I can't forget this is what I want my lively hood to be. I want to be an artist. I love to create.
I want to work on this. Now I'm in an area that is surrounded by opportunities great for any inspiring artist. I might even be teaching some classes soon which could be amazing.
Love I know I screwed up a good thing. I just said goodbye to every friend I've made for the past five years as I packed my car to move to better opportunities. But that hardest goodbye was you. I drove around waiting for you to text me because there's no way I could have left that town without a goodbye. It's been months and I  know I shouldn't be as affected by you as I am. But I am. Everyone tells me it takes time. Feelings will fade. I guess whats hardest is not knowing if my feelings will. What if that never happens. It's been months and I can't say I've felt the slightest difference. I wanted to kiss you so bad before I left, I guess it's a good thing now that I didn't. I'm not sure I'm cut out for love. I really don't want to do it anymore and this was just my first relationship. I can't imagine opening up like I did, feeling everything I felt, and I'm still the one who left and made myself feel this devastated. I hope you enjoyed my heart because you're the only one who's gotten it and probably the only person who ever will. I'm sorry. I really am. I hope you find someone who treats you right and I hope you are happy. I hope you are so happy. I hope you the best. Please don't forget me.