There are twenty-four hours in a day. Fact. Within each hour I struggle to hold it together until stability lays itself at my feet once again. Within each hour there are seconds and milliseconds that clash with thoughts and emotions that swirl within my mind as I try and piece it all together into something I can call survival.
I try not to let this overwhelm me. I breathe, I distract, I medicate and detach myself from others so I won’t say or do something I will regret later. My tongue is sharp and my anger, angst, irritability shows when in the company of my family.
I may not be able to say that word enough or at the right time. But it is felt within my heart. For each short tempered moment and each barbed quip.
It is for these reasons I hate medication changes. I get ten years of something working well and then it fails me and I have to start from some lost place and hope to get back to somewhere where my only worry is what to do and not what my mind is doing.
My mother came by yesterday. It was a mixture of nerves and happiness. These feelings weren’t her fault. She did nothing wrong. It was all me. I knew I had to care for someone besides myself and I was overwhelmed. That is the answer to many questions in my life. Overwhelmed. Just holding it together is overwhelming. And that’s with medication that is faltering.
It has taken me so many years to get to a place of stability and to feel it teetering scares me.
I just wanted to lay calmly in bed today. I had taken my meds and played a few games on my phone to ‘distract.’ Napped a little and became agitated while listening to some CDs.
I just want peace and quite right now. I want to be alone. I need an adjustment on my present dosage of new medication. But my appointment is two weeks away.
I’ll be ok. I have to be. There is no alternative.
I can’t deal with other people’s lives and faults at this moment. It’s taking all I have to knit myself back together.
I want to do so much. I have so much to offer, I know this and have always known this somewhere inside. But I lack self-esteem and self-worth.
So I sit in front of my light-box and type this to relieve some of the thoughts rambling through my head. Today will be slow and so will tomorrow. I’ll go to therapy and then retreat back to my home to lick my wounds from stepping out the door.
It’s so hard to socialize and take the risks of not feeling safe.
I feel like I walk through a hurricane each day without protection. Each moment is a struggle and I fight against the wind and rain, but I continue to walk forward because I have no choice. There is some shelter in medication and therapy and I gratefully take them in as they ease the gale forces momentarily.
I step out into the storm again and take each millisecond and knit it into the next and hope to create something I can recognize as survival. Until I finally reach home and some state of stability.
How can you tell someone who lives each day like this too ‘shake it off?’
I will never understand that mindset. And they will never understand mine. I accept this and continue without their approval. Because I don’t need it.