The truth is, I somehow find comfort in my mental illness. Yes, I said it: Mental Illness. Eff You, that's what it is, and I'm not ashamed to say it. It keeps me from working and functioning many days and definitely affects my personal life. My relationship went to all hell. Well, that is quite another story. You see, my most cherished relationship; she has decided to change her gender identity. Now, does that call for some Xanax or what???
The medications I am taking keep me from crying daily, self-harm, writing mad poetry and thoughts of (and maybe one day ATTEMPTED) suicide. Good. Keep taking the meds, hun. Get rid of the girlfriend and get your ass to work. One day at work, while keeping a stiff upper lip, I had this kind of break-down and had to go in a quiet place and just lose it completely. It was so humiliating. (That was actually during a time when I had let myself and talked myself into thinking 'nah, I don't need to keep taking that shit.' oh, yeah, right!)
So now here I am, 6 weeks later, settling in to some Depakote and some other little pill. Feeling just flat and bored with life.
I'll write more later when I give a damn.
gigi
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1 comment:
I think so many people try to deny it instead of accepting it is part of who they are. Let's face it we all have warts and all, and sometimes it is a right pain in the arse. It is just finding the right balance so that you are not so medicated it leaves you flat.
so what's new about the gallery job?
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