I’ve been wanting to post here more often; I feel safer when I write. There is something concrete about words on paper (or keyboards and computer screens) that makes reality feel solidified. I still think about things like that; things like that still infiltrate my life. It’s weird, when you think about it? people always talk about mental illness like it is or it isnt. like reality is a constant, unchangeable truth. it isnt. reality doesnt exist.
I am well, but I am having a strange day. I think this little shelf of discomfort and anxiety is what most people would consider to be problematic, or diagnosable, or whatever, but I think this little piece of unfortunate needs to be left alone.
is it normal to have days where you just feel oddly tight chested and on the verge of tears, stressed? I think it is. Though I am fairly certain it is effecting my job performance.
Theres this animation meant to talk about stress and depression I think… its made by Egg. Anyway, its like everyone has a bucket, and everything each person has to do or life events or whatever adds water to their buckets. eventually, too much water, the bucket overflows and life goes to hell. but each persons bucket is a different size. Last summer, my bucket shrank, or maybe stopped existing. and today I have a bucket but I’m still patching the holes, I suppose. I think having the holes seep while I learn to patch them up is better than trying to stuff them full of medication until the water finds a way to force its way out anyway.
its a bit of a convoluted metaphor.
to simplify, I’ve been taking a lot of ativan and having really bad shakes lately. a lot. its been taking the edge off but that stuff has never really worked. which i suppose sounds contradictory to what i just wrote, but i dont think it is. i realize there is a certain level of medicated that i need to be to maintain regular functioning. i have no qualms with that. in fact i would go so far as to say the epival, wellbutrin and ativan form my damn bucket. but everyone keeps telling me to call and get more meds. more meds. meds are the solution to everything… theyre not. you take the pills to build the bucket. once you have the bucket, its up to you to handle the water. you dont just make the bucket bigger when theres a hole in it.
ok, now its a downright nonsensical metaphor.
I guess things are just odd. if i had to do those “mood pictures” (you know the ones with the line horizontally down the middle and what is inevitably described as the “mood sine wave” of bipolar disorder? no? ok just think of a sine wave) i think i would still be at or just below the center line, which in my books is doing well. its probably just life stress stuff and small bucket stuff more than crazy stuff. so we work through it.
one of my friends (friend a) is sleeping with one of my other friends (friend b) who has a girlfriend. we all hated the girlfriend from the get go. but friend b already told friend a he wasnt leaving his girlfriend and friend a is all… lets keep sleeping together i love you. and its saaaaaaad. friend a is just.. settling for scraps… and friend b is a gigantic dickbag player. i dont know. but its making me highly dislike being around them. NOT TO MENTION. FRIEND B KEEPS BRINGING HIS GIRLFRIEND TO EVENTS WHERE THERES LIKE 5 OF US INCLUDING FRIEND A. its gross. i hate it. who does that? everyone hates being around them now. its ruining things.
You know what else bothers me? people and their love of animals. i dont like animals. whhhhy does this make me so terrible? no i dont want to watch 17 snap chats of your cat. im sorry. no, i dont want to look at “adorable” cats on the internet. please stop texting them to me. no, i dont want to cat sit for you because your cat “doesnt like to be alone at night”. Well I dont like being near your cat at night. jesus. its like all the things people bitch about with facebook and the baby pictures except it’s their fucking cats. my facebook feed is essentially the crazy cat ladies of the future. insert gun to head motion here.
and. AND. im getting interveiwed by the pr department at my former university because they want to brag about me. only… i really dislike that school. im struggling to come up with nice things to say. i just… ugh.
im tired and apparently cranky. i cant quite justify a mental health week but i quite want one. taking a mental health night, anyway. me bed and orange is the new black have a date. i best get to it, it seems