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.
Inside the mind of a bi-polar artist who just needs somewhere to get things out of her head.
Showing posts with label depression. Show all posts
Showing posts with label depression. Show all posts
Monday, May 18, 2015
Thursday, November 13, 2014
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.
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.
Friday, September 5, 2014
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.
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.
Thursday, September 4, 2014
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.
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.
Wednesday, April 18, 2012
My Story
We all have a story.
We all carry burdens.
We've all made mistakes.
We all have flaws.
But we were never meant to be perfect.
I tell myself this everyday but some days I still find me blaming myself for things I could never change to begin with. I can't help it when it feels like depression has me at the throat and whatever I try to do just makes it worse. It's hard living a life that I created just to destroy and bring it back to life. I hit more bad days than good but you would never realize it from the outside. I feel like this has been happening so long that the routine is established permanently and I pull it off well. Wake up, get out of bed, throw on a smile, laugh, and call it good. But there are days where I'm trapped by nothing more than my mind so I lay in bed curled up into a ball with fists clenched so tight they turn to bombs aimed at my body. I lay there legs held tight to my chest, body still, and refuse to move until I know my breath will reach another day. To afraid to move. To afraid of myself. This has been a war going on since I can ever remember but each time I get pushed a little further, pushed to exhaustion, pushed right back down when I've been trying so hard to just get my face out of the dirt let alone standing up. But one day I will be up.
My story is never ending but to get to the end I must accept the beginning.
I accept that self harm has been my down fall but it's been my safety. I've been blessed with a second chance because i can finally see scars fading. Maybe one day they'll be gone. I guess I can only hope but I've gone far past destroying my body than just wearing longs sleeves to cover my mistakes. I know some scars go far beyond permanent when I wake up to
I AM ALONE
I AM FORGOTTEN
Carved into the spot where it will remain forever, reminding me everyday that I felt this way.
Every inch of my body has taken the blown for self neglect.
I'm past this but it doesn't mean it's not hard anymore. If anything it's ten times harder because now I feel emotionless. I use to control my pain but now it's uncontrollable and it scares me.
It scares me.
Beyond this I'm turning my life around. But I'm almost to the point where I'm accepting that I can't do this on my own. I never wanted people to know about this but I feel like it helps writing about it.
I'm writing this because I want anyone else who feels like this. Anyone who wakes up with a bulls eye on their wrist. I want them to know
You are NOT alone.
It's not easy but you have to remember it's not the end.
You have a chance every single day to chose how your story is going to end
and it's not here
not today
"You are not weak just because your heart feels so heavy"
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