Do you ever get the feeling that the pills aren’t working anymore? I feel like things have gotten worse as the months have gone by. I wake up exhausted, or I wake up miserable. Pick one. Not much of a choice these days.
Been absent forever, seemingly.
Do you ever get the feeling that the pills aren’t working anymore? I feel like things have gotten worse as the months have gone by. I wake up exhausted, or I wake up miserable. Pick one. Not much of a choice these days.
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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.
01. they made me and they hated me
may I taste the salt of your skin? I want to feel your teeth cut into me are you warm-blooded, because I’m cold again. they’ve made a monster out of me and bloody, I am still unbowed I may be broken, but my shards still slice I’ve seen boys cut their palms open when they hold me too close they told me I’m fucked up and I know I am, I just I looked at love with reverence, but I don’t believe anymore I wanted clean simplicity and look where that got me a mouth full of blood and torn off wings hah. it’d be hilarious if it didn’t still hurt 02. collared flesh you know, I still remember hands tangled in my hair - this flesh memory is very vivid. I might have a choker around my neck but I am anything but collared there’s a touch of madness in the eyes, wildness you were drawn to it. 03. mania I can’t drown it out the manic phases, I know it’s a swing I know it’s an upward shift and the crash will be catastrophe but I’m running with it I can roll with the punches it’s what I do. this is my brain chemistry, right? and there’s the modern alchemy to make me normal but normal is a setting on a dryer and it’s not for me, not for fucking me hate the fucking clarity, so where’s the booze I miss the haze, miss the colours is anyone else seeing this shit? written between 5:30am - 6:30am, today. the night isn't kind to me and my brain hates me. it feels like that most of the time and I've asked whatever (benevolent?) higher being up there "why the fuck did you make me like this?" and considering I haven't gotten any answers, I feel like I move closer to the edge with every passing day. someone offered to help me, and in my drunken state (batman-styled brooding) - I almost threw a glass at him. it's not that I don't want help, but there are days I don't think I deserve help. I was off my meds on that day. recently, an ex-boyfriend that I'm still on (relatively) good terms with reminded me of some of the stunts I've pulled over the course of us dating and I feel like a terrible person. I know I was different then, and I'm trying my fucking hardest now - but being empty sucks, lacking intimacy sucks and I feel like I sound like a whining, angsty 15 year old all over again. why am I like this? It's been one of those weeks, which is why I've been mostly silent.
I realise that when I rush, I forget to take my medication. Not taking my medication, whatever it is, makes the swings so much worse. I've been trying to take my meds consistently, because (logically anyway) I know that having a routine is supposed to stabilise me. I'm just... the mood drops don't help. I barely sleep. I can't eat. I want to cry all the time, I'm miserable and I know it's mostly the brain chemistry but it hurts and it's painful. How do you talk about it? How do you tell anyone about it? Telling someone seems like I'm whining and my next therapist appointment is in September, but it feels like I'm whining and I don't know what to do. They're planning on putting me on an antipsychotic next month and it's terrifying, but I'm hoping it'll help. I'm grateful for work and the people who are in my life now, but it just feels strangely empty these days. I don't feel alive. Trying to figure it out seems too self-indulgent, so maybe I should just... not. I don't know. this is a mask I've put on; a facade
you know this. this is why I choose to associate with people who aren't normal, people who can see past the mask maybe they can fix me, maybe they can break me again I wouldn't know. I don't know anything anymore. sometimes, I'm just empty and that leaves me with an ache, wishing I could feel sometimes, I feel too much and I'm clawing at my skin, begging for it to stop I think about the trauma, I think about my experiences I know other people have it worse I know this isn't much in the greater scheme of things I keep telling myself that, but I'm nowhere near altruistic I keep looping back and forth between wanting and hating myself for wanting please has never been a word I liked, my pride wouldn't allow it and now all I am is a series of apologies between my manic upswings and the crash afterwards I'm so tired. I want to rest. I want to stop. can I stop being yet? Written at 3:30am It wasn't a great night, but I don't usually write when I'm happy anyway. I've churned out a few articles, hopefully they get published when everyone wakes up. I was manic earlier but now I've sort of dropped. It doesn't feel good at all. This week's had me working on a couple of interesting projects here and there, a couple of topics I haven't really touched before. Admittedly, I'm not sure if serious/technical writing is my thing considering I tend to write how I talk. In any case, here are the relevant links below:
In any case, it's been a bit of a hectic week. I'm trying to make sure I post consistently, because people actually read this? Hello everyone! The Bullet Journal life is helping, somewhat. Although looking at my schedule makes me cry (internally; external tears are reserved for the full-blown anxiety days) - it's fulfilling knowing I'm actually doing something. I might not be completely okay, but I'm working on working towards a baseline. I don't have a single free Saturday (or day) this entire week. I'm not complaining, but there are days where I wish I could switch my brain off. Not that I know how to do that, really. I'm very committed to my aesthetic, admittedly. So, I've done up my #bujo in colours that make me happy. I try my best not to brood (almost Batman-like on some days), but it's hard. I don't know if it's a chemical imbalance or there's just something wrong with me, but the medication helps. I try to be as open and honest as possible about my struggles with mental illness - but there's still such a severe social stigma regarding it. I basically deal with general anxiety, major depression and bipolar-styled mood swings. My manic phases and depressive phases are hard to deal with and I feel terrible for inflicting them on other people. It's a struggle to get out of bed on some days, and on other days - I wish I could sleep, but I can't. Writing keeps me (halfway) sane, and it means a lot that people do read what I write. Hope you guys are having a good week. |
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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