It's like dancing a delicate ballet with bears that want to eat your face off.
Oh, look, it's another Real Life post brought to you by the letters DSM and the numbers 269.86.
You know what would be awesome? Not being afraid.
Not being afraid, every day, of tomorrow.
Not being afraid for no reason at all.
Not being afraid of the future, because there's not a future visible worth having.
Not being afraid of my body, because it might do something at any moment that will hurt me or cost us too much money to take care of.
That would be awesome.
Y'all have any idea how bad it is not being able to trust tomorrow? It's no wonder I have trouble sleeping sometimes.
Jeez. I think that describes it. Insomnia: the fear of going to sleep because tomorrow might sneak up on you.
Just spent ten minutes leaking from the face.
The kind of crying I do because of panic/tension is the weirdest thing. I could hold a totally rational conversation, and not really seem that emotionally disturbed, and still be leaking like a busted faucet. I really don't like it. I mean, who would, right? But it's both upsetting in its own right, and frustrating, because it seems so pointless and stupid. (It's not, it's the body's way of purging tension and probably toxins, too, but it sure feels dumb while it's going on. Like, I'm trying to look up instructions on how to refinish a dresser, STOP THAT DRIBBLING.)
Took a clonazepam. Hate taking them. Love what they do for me, hate taking them. Hate that I need them, always afraid I'll need more, always afraid I won't be able to get more. Hate that they make me off-kilter for a day or two after. But they make it go away long enough for me to get up and get moving again.
I am done for today. Just done. And I've barely started. I've been pushing myself too hard lately, not even for all that much result. I still have so much to do. It keeps piling up. I just want to walk away from it all and have it cleaned up while I'm gone.
And the hell of it? I'm not even in a bad mood, or especially depressed. I'm just emotionally beat down, and I need a break. A genuine vacation. I don't think you get those when you're poor and crazy. I think you get breakdowns.
I have blackberries in the fridge. I will eat them all. I will spend time talking with my imaginary people. I will pet this enormous flatulent feline. I might even take my hole punch after paint chips for no damn good reason, just that it's fun. I might color in a coloring book. Then I will feel better.
X-posted from Dreamwidth. Comment count:
You know what would be awesome? Not being afraid.
Not being afraid, every day, of tomorrow.
Not being afraid for no reason at all.
Not being afraid of the future, because there's not a future visible worth having.
Not being afraid of my body, because it might do something at any moment that will hurt me or cost us too much money to take care of.
That would be awesome.
Y'all have any idea how bad it is not being able to trust tomorrow? It's no wonder I have trouble sleeping sometimes.
Jeez. I think that describes it. Insomnia: the fear of going to sleep because tomorrow might sneak up on you.
Just spent ten minutes leaking from the face.
The kind of crying I do because of panic/tension is the weirdest thing. I could hold a totally rational conversation, and not really seem that emotionally disturbed, and still be leaking like a busted faucet. I really don't like it. I mean, who would, right? But it's both upsetting in its own right, and frustrating, because it seems so pointless and stupid. (It's not, it's the body's way of purging tension and probably toxins, too, but it sure feels dumb while it's going on. Like, I'm trying to look up instructions on how to refinish a dresser, STOP THAT DRIBBLING.)
Took a clonazepam. Hate taking them. Love what they do for me, hate taking them. Hate that I need them, always afraid I'll need more, always afraid I won't be able to get more. Hate that they make me off-kilter for a day or two after. But they make it go away long enough for me to get up and get moving again.
I am done for today. Just done. And I've barely started. I've been pushing myself too hard lately, not even for all that much result. I still have so much to do. It keeps piling up. I just want to walk away from it all and have it cleaned up while I'm gone.
And the hell of it? I'm not even in a bad mood, or especially depressed. I'm just emotionally beat down, and I need a break. A genuine vacation. I don't think you get those when you're poor and crazy. I think you get breakdowns.
I have blackberries in the fridge. I will eat them all. I will spend time talking with my imaginary people. I will pet this enormous flatulent feline. I might even take my hole punch after paint chips for no damn good reason, just that it's fun. I might color in a coloring book. Then I will feel better.
X-posted from Dreamwidth. Comment count: