(no subject)
Yesterday I drove mom to Halifax for an appointment. We hopped back and forth from the clinic to the hospital for Xrays and all that. It was nice to spend time with mom... we have a good connection and we had opportunity to talk.
I still haven't hear from ABU about school. I'm still not even sure I want to go in the first place. I think the program would be useful to have, but 4 more years in school? In a Baptist school none-the-less? Honestly, if I were offered a decent job, I wouldn't even think twice about it. So am I doing this for the right reasons?
I'm in such a bad space... the twist and warp of my mind. The depression has a strong hold on me, I've lost touch with so much of myself, and my intuition. The pills have my mind clouded, and they're not even working that well anymore.
I know a lot of what I need to do, and at the same time I'm in denial of a lot of it... or afraid to make the choices. I'm also not sure where the line blurs between what is necessary and what is easy. I'm afraid to do the wrong things.
I miss the days gone by when I just lived each day. I didn't worry about the long term, what others thought, what was going to happen, the what ifs... I miss that. I miss painting and creating and being artful and communicative.
When I write zines, often it feels forced. When I draw or paint, it's the same thing... I have forgotten so much of what I loved and who I am.
I still haven't hear from ABU about school. I'm still not even sure I want to go in the first place. I think the program would be useful to have, but 4 more years in school? In a Baptist school none-the-less? Honestly, if I were offered a decent job, I wouldn't even think twice about it. So am I doing this for the right reasons?
I'm in such a bad space... the twist and warp of my mind. The depression has a strong hold on me, I've lost touch with so much of myself, and my intuition. The pills have my mind clouded, and they're not even working that well anymore.
I know a lot of what I need to do, and at the same time I'm in denial of a lot of it... or afraid to make the choices. I'm also not sure where the line blurs between what is necessary and what is easy. I'm afraid to do the wrong things.
I miss the days gone by when I just lived each day. I didn't worry about the long term, what others thought, what was going to happen, the what ifs... I miss that. I miss painting and creating and being artful and communicative.
When I write zines, often it feels forced. When I draw or paint, it's the same thing... I have forgotten so much of what I loved and who I am.