bipolar · depression · Meds




I attended a writer’s conference for the first time this past weekend. I left on the second and got home on the fourth of June. I was exhausted and my mind was reeling with ideas and options and to be honest, I was totally ‘overwhelmed.’

The conference was a great experience and opportunity for me to connect with other writers and to learn more about the craft. It seemed to focus on novels, something I don’t think I’ll ever be able to do. But I want to get some short stories published and that was the last presentation of the conference. I was too exhausted to stay, I had to leave because I was falling asleep, although the presenter was excellent.

Everyone was using Scrivener, I think that’s how you spell it. But it’s just too complex for me. I’ll stick to Word.

The most important thing I learned was just to get the story out, literally, vomit it onto the page and worry about mistakes later. I started writing when I was there, but I was exhausted. I don’t even know how it reads or if I’ll do something with it.

This week has been hellish. Doctor’s appointments. Canceled transportation, pain, and depression. I woke up this morning and cried myself back to sleep. The thoughts of giving up just clanged in my head over and over again. I quit. Not so much dying, but just saying, ‘you win. I quit.’ Now leave me alone here in my bed and let me do nothing.

I realized I am running on automatic. Repetitive motions and routines devised to keep me together in this world. I hate it.

I would love to go a day without pills. Without needing to brush my teeth and floss and just lay there in bed. Being and doing nothing. I don’t want to eat, I don’t want to talk or be acknowledged as existing. I don’t want to ‘be.’ I quit.

Living a life of routine isn’t really living. It’s existing. And that’s all that I do and am, existing.

Yup, I’m depressed. I felt it coming on before the conference and fought as hard as I could and made it through. I saw Janis Ian (At Seventeen) fame. She’s tiny.

At Seventeen here’s the song. It’s my anthem.

She told the story of when she sang, “Societies Child”, for the first time she got booed off the stage and was hit with a can and various things. She cried and ran off the stage. Her manager said, what are you doing? Those people paid good money, get back out there. And she did.

The world is a dangerous place. I’ll move through this thought process, therapy today.

Who knows what my mind will give up tomorrow. If I will give up tomorrow. I doubt it. But whenever I hear a train, I want to walk in front of it. And that’s dangerous. There’s this battle that goes on inside. And I have to walk through a train platform to get to my mother’s house.

I scare myself.



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