I’ve been sliding in and around some hypomanic tendencies this week, which is fabulous for school and very difficult for cohesive thoughts. My therapist kept asking me about my anxieties, what was making me so anxious to talk so quickly, to speed up up up and then calm. Shifting, twitching, laughing, fidgeting. But I don’t feel anxious, I just feel this weird energy in my limbs. Though I’m also anxious, because that’s what I do and that’s who I am and everything is due and I’m supposed to be better better better, but instead I’m just still me. But the weird tightness in my chest, that constant pressing feeling.. the rigidness of my muscles, the bracing for impact… I don’t know where it went. I don’t miss it. I do wish I could be more still.
The hypomania has come at a delightful time. I’ve gotten my thesis draft done. Thank fuck. Editing in progress. The next two weeks are crunch time for everything else. Easily doable, realistically. Just need to …do it.
I’ve been drinking again even though I said I would stop. Professionals always seem so concerned with my drinking. My friends dont. I binge drink. I dont see this as problematic. It felt nice to just go and be with everyone and not be seeing too bright colours or trying not to claw my skin off. The pot helped. going on a date tomorrow, maybe, they asked i said yes. probably a bad idea? with the mania? but it also makes me less of an anxious weirdo so, fuck it. why not.
I really want to write something here, something worthwhile or at least explanatory but I don’t have the words. I’m just buzzing from my fingertips to my temples. it feels like the skin on my forehead is being pulled back, my eyes are so wide; I can tell without looking at them. Kale always tells me you can tell when I’m manic by my crazy wide eyes.
Things are good, for the most part. moving forward. going out a lot, seeing lots of people, often, is helping. I’ve stopped sleeping, which is going to be problematic in a few days but for now just affords me a lot of time to watch tv and paint things and craft complex sculptures out of watercolor paper.
i love making things. nothing is calmer than making. it’s funny because im a shitty artist- no one explained the difference between being an artist and just being good at making shit to me before art school- but I am awesome at just making shit. I should have been a carpenter or a special effects make up artist or a shipbuilder. or something. can you imagine how calm life would be? i was thinking that while watching face off (this stupid stupid reality show. it was 5 am.) people watch those shows and are impressed by the talent: and sometimes, yes its mind blowing but i mostly sit there and am like i could totally do this. this is within the realm of reasonable things i could do. why dont i make things? i guess i just wish i had more opportunities to make useful objects. whats the point of sculpting something random to sit on a shelf forever.
funny, my art school education.
and my ridiculous thesis that the science world thinks is pretentious and the art world finds offensive i would imply empirical evidence would be needed.
life is funny. people are funny.
normalcy soon, i think.