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It’s Been A While, Hasn’t It.

TW: Mental Illness (Bipolar Disorder/Mood Swings)

Relatively shaky today. I don’t know why. I have no reason whatsoever to be emotionally unstable. It’s ridiculous, to be honest. I feel so stupid for not being able to get ahold of myself. I’m on the verge of a mental breakdown, but not quite. Not just yet. I still manage to hold myself together, but I also could completely lose it at any moment. One little nudge could tip the scale and set me off.

It doesn’t happen every day, but when it does, my mind goes to a dark place. And it stays there a while. How long, you ask? I couldn’t tell you. But I’m suddenly worthless; I can’t seem to do anything right, I’m not good enough for one reason or another, so why bother trying to climb out of this hole I’ve dug myself into? The effort would be pointless.

Something inside of me suddenly materializes, latches around my stomach, and gives it a good, hard twist. I double over, nearly vomit, but manage to keep the bile from rising in my throat. My heart beats painfully underneath my collarbone, racing at a hundred miles an hour. Sometimes a sheen of sweat breaks out along my hairline. I can’t even seem to draw a simple, steady breath.

It hurts. It really, really hurts.

Mood swings suck.

I want to cry and scream and throw things all at the same time, yet I don’t want to waste the energy. So I climb into bed, curl up into a ball, and close my eyes, wrapping an arm around my ribs to physically hold myself together. Maybe that will help keep the internal storm at bay, send the raging black clouds somewhere else. I suppose it’s worth a shot, though I already know the sky will open up, and the rain will soak me through, regardless of my efforts.

It’s really hard just to write this. Writing usually helps when I’m feeling like crap – I move the pen and bleed onto the paper – but I can’t seem to shake the ugly inner critic today, the ugly inner critic whispering that I should quit now before I disappoint anyone. I’m sure it sounds vague to you, dear Reader. The voice doesn’t mention anything all that specific, but I get the idea. I know what the voice is talking about, as well as the people it’s alluding to without having to hear the people’s names aloud.

They’ll be disappointed in me because I’ll be a failure. I already am a failure, at least in my mind. I’m a fraud. I can’t support myself the way I should be able to at this stage in my life – emotionally or otherwise. I shouldn’t have to use my loved ones as a crutch; they shouldn’t have to drag me along behind them just so I’m able to keep up with them. I should be able to stand on my own two feet. I should be able to handle these things by myself. I should, I should, I should…

I should, yet I can’t. I’m a despicable excuse for a human being.

I mentioned this before, but I’ll say it again: I don’t know why I’m in such a mood. Maybe I’m just tired. Maybe I just need some chocolate. Or some ice cream. Or all of the above.

Regardless, I think I’m going to stop here. Sorry to be such a Debbie Downer. I’ll come back later with something more positive. Promise.


(Also, if you made it this far, if you read this entry from start to finish, thank you. I really do appreciate it.)

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– My knee still hurts like a bitch. It’s scabbing over now . . . finally . . . but I still can’t put a whole lot of pressure on it.  And it totally sucks, because this all could’ve been avoided if I hadn’t been such a klutz and, you know, face-planted on the sidewalk last week.

– I graduated from college only a week ago. Weird . . . seems longer ago than that.

– I need a new backpack. The metal tip of one of my spiral-bound notebooks poked a hole through the bottom of my current bag and hooked into the seat of my pants. You know, the half-cotton, half-spandex, super comfy kind.

Let’s just say I felt really awkward attempting to fish the end of that spiral out of my fucking underwear in the middle of Union Station while I waited to board the Metra train that would take me out to the suburbs so I could tutor my kids. (I mean, they’re not really my kids, but, well, you get it.)

– God, I love coffee. Isn’t coffee great? Like, the best.

– I have an obsession with Triscuit crackers. It’s kind of a problem.

– I really need a drink right now.

– I’m glad I shifted the furniture around in the dining room of the apartment. It’s much more enjoyable to look out the windows than it is to stare at a fucking wall all day.

– The future terrifies me. Honestly, I don’t have much to say other than that. (And please, for the love of God, tell me if you agree. I hope I’m not alone in this.)

– It feels strange not having to go to class tomorrow . . . or not having to go to school ever again, period. Or at least, for now.

– I’m cold.

– I need more coffee. Pronto.

– Isn’t the mind such a complex, peculiar thing? I wish I had a greater understanding of the thing and how it worked.

– Maybe I should apply to grad school.

Maybe I shouldn’t apply to grad school.

Maybe . . .

– Some days, when I’m really depressed, I like to torture myself with a few of those lamely romantic, And-They-All-Lived-Happily-Ever-After movies, back-to-back-to-back. Then I curse at the television screen, chuck a couple of pillows at it, and cry a lot. It’s strangely, emotionally refreshing.

– I don’t particularly like politics, but I don’t hate them, either. It’s kind of like those middle school relationships where the two kids get together, then break up a week later, only to crawl back to each other a couple days after that. It’s difficult to put your faith in something (like a relationship . . . or the federal government) when everything could go to shit at a moment’s notice.

I just think the thing is . . . I wish some members of Congress . . . hell, let’s throw the White House in there, too. I was planning on addressing that later, but why not just do it now? Might as well.

Anyway, I wish I knew what the hell they’re doing in Washington. But maybe they don’t even know. I mean, at least the members of Congress that I don’t like and, in my opinion, have made some pretty mindless decisions in the first 120 or so days of the new president’s first term (yeah, I’m looking at you, Paul Ryan.)

Wait, what was that? You guys are trying to make the country better for the American people? For all of us? Oh! I get it now! Of course! It all makes so much sense now! Thanks for clearing that up for me, man.

Hang on . . . you’ve got something else? What did you say? That the American people you’re referring to are only the rich, straight, white guys? But . . . that’s not fair. What about the rest of us? We aren’t all rich, straight, and white like you.

Okay, okay. No, I understand you perfectly. What you’re telling me is, you lied. To all of us.

Well, thanks a lot, man. So much for the land of the free.

Food for Thought:  To be moral is to know the difference between right and wrong. Banning refugees from entering the country is wrong. Taking healthcare away from millions of Americans is wrong. Separating families is wrong. Discriminating against anybody because of race, gender, religion (among other things) is wrong.

We’re all human. No two of us are the same. I feel like that should be obvious, but I’ll spell it out for you anyway, just so you and your friends in Congress understand (and, of course, in the White House; they all need to be taught this, too.) Hopefully (though I’m really not holding my breath) the concept of diversity will lodge into those weird looking masses inside your skulls. I mean, they kind of look like masses of brain tissue, but at the same time, not really. You guys probably don’t see it since your eyes are, you know, screwed into the middle of your face below your forehead, but all that tissue is so dark and misshapen. Corrupted, actually. Yeah, corrupted is probably a better word.

I know there are those members of Congress who are genuinely good people, who stand by the American people that they represent, who believe in progress. But even though their good intentions make me just a tad less anxious when I wonder about the future of the United States . . . I mean, that’s just it. I’m still anxious. I still wonder, worry. This is why looking ahead scares me so much. Because I can’t see it.

– I guess . . . Jesus, I don’t know . . . . heh, I’m trying to end this on a bit of a lighter note because that was all insanely depressing. I’m going to be honest, I don’t know where the democracy has gone. Maybe it’s dead. Hopefully not. Hopefully it’s hiding around somewhere nearby, or it’s huddling underground, licking its wounds and hibernating for the next 3+ years. Who knows how long it’ll take to come back to us, but at least there are decent people out there willing to fight for it.

– So, yeah . . . there’s that.

– Again, on a lighter note, before I end it here, I adore puppies. I seriously need a Corgi in my life. They’re the cutest things next to kittens. Kittens are the best. ❤