Without faith

It is late, and snow is falling. It is very light, and it won’t stick anyway, but neighbors have bought their emergency milk and bread regardless. It’s not like the north where we were buried in snowfall, and I still had to walk to school. I remember the real cold, the brisk and bitter wind, the icicles hanging from the sad-looking houses. I miss winter. I miss the fall there. But I do not miss that town.

 

I’ve written about many people in my life, and some I’ve written about many times. I’ve written lives over, dreams over, nightmares over. I’ve rewritten songs to beats I could not keep and have cried over a thousand one too many melodies. Too many lyrics. Too many words. Too many thoughts. Millions. Millennia, all swimming in me, as if this moment will never matter, but it still hurts.

 

There are shadows I grasp at. There are apparitions too heavy to hold. I am a bearer of many observations, and I see things other people have not, cannot, and will never see. I hear radio interference, hissing voices bullying the airwaves. I pick up on pain you never knew you had.

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The Analog Identity — Mothletter Studios

I never rest. Dreams are fragments to me of undercover lives; these lives lived, under covers, atop bedspreads, wear worlds only slightly off from the world in which I am writing this now. The realities are difficult to separate sometimes, twisting in me like bedsheets enduring a sleeping nightmare or a white-knuckled waking one. I […]

via The Analog Identity — Mothletter Studios

The flaw.

Fifteen years of therapy, eleven hospitalizations, in and out of partial programs, so many different services and different therapies (DBT, CBT, talk, etc.) Hell, I’ve even undergone ECT, (electroconvulsive therapy), and have had MRI, CT scans, EEGs, test after test, been on medication after medication, dose after dose, and I am sitting here on my couch, full of weeping lethargy but sleeplessness; a restless, nauseated anxiety and hunger for cessation and quiet. I feel so sad and so broken. Beyond tired, beyond depressed, beyond reparation. I know myself well. Years of [self-]interrogation, years of being poked and prodded by doctors, neurologists, psychiatrists, psychotherapists, counselors, and my own reflection have given me near crystalline photographs of my subconscious. I am betting I know myself more than most people know themselves. I am betting I understand myself more than most people understand themselves. And I am sure as hell that at this point, if I can be saved, only I can do it; and that, that is torture. 

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So, we fall; but we can rise again, as well.

I’m sorry I haven’t posted in a few days, guys. Truth is, I came back from my eleventh hospitalization yesterday. That’s right: I was hospitalized. “The Plan” didn’t go too well. In an effort to make things easier on me, Bf ate a big plate of steamed vegetables at work so I didn’t have to cook for him. I wasn’t cleaning. I was so tired from crying and so overwhelmed. I wasn’t putting away the laundry that was still in the dryer, because my back hurt so badly, and I was so tired. All these excuses kept circling in my head, because my depression was hungry, and I felt the need to feed it, so these excuses kept feeding the monster. They kept fueling the vision that my life and self were worthless.

Continue reading “So, we fall; but we can rise again, as well.”

Taking my own advice 19 October, 2017

Just a quick update to let everyone know how “The Plan” is going. I said I’d start, and I’m proud to say I actually did. I tend to procrastinate and come up with excuses, especially when it comes to postponing recovery, because I’ve said before, the illnesses are hungry, and they ache to be fed. They’re persuasive. They’re angry. But I punched them in the face today.

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How do you break the cycle?

Many mental illnesses, like many other chronic illnesses, are often cyclical. For those of you unfamiliar with the term, this means that at times the illness softens or even goes into a state of “remission,” in which the illness is not as prominent, invasive, difficult, and/or et cetera. This is especially true with mood disorders, such as depression or bipolar disorder. I think a full “remission” is rare, but I’ve known people who have reportedly (or rather, self-reportedly) gone for years without symptoms who end up hospitalized after an episode returns. Still, many illnesses are cyclicallike fibromyalgia for example.

The uni-cycle from hell

Continue reading “How do you break the cycle?”

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I’ve written many posts lately expressing my love towards, solidarity with, and ambitious perspective of humanity. I’ve written them on group pages, my dA, my tumblr, my personal facebook.  I write with hope and promise and love that I am not always able to sustain. As said in my journal on dA: 2016 was a difficult year.

I’ve been hospitalized and re-medicated, had e. coli for a while, not to mention Donald Trump is the President-Elect of the United States (a fact I regard with utmost horror and repulsion, even far more than the e. coli). It’s always going to be a difficult year though. Life’s tough. The point is how you treat the pain. Our [re]actions are what make us, and I feel I’ve grown a lot this year through the pain I have endured.

I’m full of love, passion, and fever right now. I’ve stopped self-harming again. It is very likely that I’ll start up again after a while, because it comes and goes in cycles. It all comes and goes in cycles, waves, echoes. The ebb and flow. The wind and rain. Pain even generally speaking is a boomerang. Life hits us. It hits us hard, and we only hurt ourselves when we violently hit back. I know this. I know self-harming is not part of any recovery model. But forgiving oneself is, and that is where I need to start. Maybe you do too.

The journey is different for everyone. We are all unique, our own tailored work and the forms we’ve adapted into. There have always been challenges to individualism in psychology and philosophy, but truly, you are the only “print” of you. You need to take care of yourself, as I need to take care of myself. You need to thrive as I need to thrive, but we thrive differently and in different places and with different things. Don’t let the implications of isolation drag you down. We are powerful. We live in our own universe. A whole universe fits inside our skull! If that is not beautiful, I don’t know what is.

It’s 01:37 and I’m just rambling now. I am excited for 2017. I will write more about how I approach the new year and set and organize my resolutions. Difficult year or not, hospitalization after hospitalization or not, I have grown a lot this year and so I consider 2016 a personal success. There were a lot of pitfalls, lots of crashes. It was painful and shattering but also beautiful and enriching, and I’m learning to fill the cracks in with gold. I am finding my place. I am setting my purpose and following it. I am learning. I am teaching. I am being.

This was more of a personal post, but I want to say: You are strong. You are complicated like a labyrinth. You may have monsters. I certainly do. So pay close attention to the thoughts that reach you. Make the puzzle eye-opening, enriching. Take the thoughts that nourish you. Breathe them in. Live them. You are a unique web of potential. You can do good for others and yourself. Own that. And the let the negative thoughts fall by the wayside. Acknowledge them and move on. Pour over love, not loneliness. Pour over good.

I will write one more post before the new year. Happy holidays to anyone celebrating. Happy December to anyone who’s not.

With love always

 

V.