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.
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.
I’m showering once a week. I barely clean. I haven’t brushed my hair in two days. I haven’t worked on any projects in 2 weeks. I feel… sad… all the time. Even when I laugh in crying at the same time. I have no control.
There’s history of mental illness in my family, mania, depression, bipolar. My mom says she thinks I have depression that she knows when I’m feeling low and when I’m feeling normal.
I tell her I’m fine. And then I don’t seek out the professional help like I tell her I’ll do.
Why? Because I don’t feel justified in having these feelings. It’s like a weird middle ground where I’m self aware that this is not normal behavior, the lethargy, the lack of self-care, the constant mood swings and I know which professionals to seek, I know the costs involved. But I won’t make the necessary appointment.
There’s more here that maybe I haven’t self-discovered. But I just needed to vent into the void that is the internet for a moment.
I’ll be fine. I just need another few days.