x Hannah
More writing, everyone. The song embedded is sort of reminiscent of my mood. The #daretowrite challenge is pretty fun, and if you're interested - check it out live here. Maybe you'll help me choose my next prompt.
x Hannah
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A friend once told me that self-pity is the equivalent of masturbation - it feels good, there's release, but it's not the same as anything else. A little crass, but hey.
Finally got back on my medication. Finally talked to my psychiatrist. I wish I could say I'm relieved but it's a little sick (and shameful) to admit that I'm relieved that I got refills on my medication. Added a new one too, so we'll see how that goes.
Do you know what it felt like to get back on my meds? 10 minutes after I swallowed the small orange and white pills that pretty much guarantee that I can function like a human being, the inside of my head was quiet for the first time in two weeks. For the last two weeks, it felt like I was stuck in the most crowded club you can imagine - being jostled and shoved by people crammed on the dance floor like sardines in a tin. It felt like I couldn't hear anything above the thumping bass line or shouting of other people in the club, and the only way someone could talk to me was to shout in my ear. I was so impulsive. I couldn't control it. If my impulses said 'do it', I probably would. Even though the rational part of my brain, the part that has common sense, would say "this is not an appropriate reaction" or "this is not something we should be doing" - I couldn't stop myself from reacting a certain way or doing things because everything was so intense. It was insane. On a less depressing note, I've written three new prompts for the #daretowrite challenge. They're written below, and you can always check things out on my Tumblr for more insight into my head. x Hannah So, I ran out of meds about a week plus ago. It's making me antsy.
I hate admitting that I have a problem, that I have a dependency on these pills that dictate whether I'll be able to function or not. After a solid three months on these, the withdrawal is killing me. The depression hits me at full force, where I go through days where I just can't get out of bed. It's not "I don't want to get out of bed" but "I can't get out of bed". The whole Borderline Personality Disorder thing is starting to feel like a death sentence. While I know DBT is a thing, I'm worried. I'm so worried right now. With work piling up, and classes being the way they are - I'm absolutely terrified.
Hey guys, it's been a while.
I have a couple of new projects that I'm working on, but I hope you've been checking out my writing at The Level MY. I'm excited to tell you about my next project, but it'll be some time before I can talk about it. On the other hand, I've gone super blonde recently - which you can check out on my Instagram. Tell me your thoughts? In terms of writing, I'm participating in the inkstay Dare To Write challenge, which I'll be posting here and on my Tumblr. Follow me, and let me know! Of course, some of these things might be a bit trigger-y, because my recent diagnosis of Borderline Personality Disorder has been getting to me. That's for another post, though. x Hannah daretowrite prompt: lazarus every time feels like a rebirth but then again, when does it not? I come back a little less human every time I am agony and screaming I am alive under duress it’s a revamp of my personality like installing a new OS or upgrading systems but it’s not. I never quite like who or what I am. I never really have. I’m waiting for the day I stop having to rebuild myself or maybe, I’m waiting for everything to just stop. |
Hannah azlan5'2" hurricane in human form. Committed to the #aesthetic life, I write about anything and everything. Welcome to my writing blog. Categories
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