So, the beautiful thing about being diagnosed with Panic Disorder is that you get to tell people: hey, I’m struggling today so don’t expect much. The problem with that is that you are going to see your boyfriends family who has no idea what is going on in your head (and in reality nobody really knows because it just can’t make up its mind…) and so you have to save face and act normal when all you want to do is hide in a corner with your coffee and crochet hats for poor kids in a school district you’ll never live in.
When i have a panic attack, it feels like everyone has eyes on you. Never mind the fact that we’re grabbing our hair, trying to pull the thoughts out with your hair and screaming in a fetal position. Once that passes the embarrassment takes over and another micro panic attack takes over and you start crying. I still haven’t been able to go back to that movie theater.
It’s these days when i wish i had a service dog to lean on me and reassure me that everything is ok. I can’t for quite a few reasons (including psychopath dogs and insurance disagreements) so instead I have my coping habits which have become more and more difficult to perform. I pain, crochet, or do my woodworking. My painting only works when I’m hit with a chair by my muse, my woodworking only works when I’m at home, so i crochet. Even then, coping while crocheting is tricky. Not only do i have to keep my hands busy, but i also have to keep my mind busy.
I just read all of this and feel like I’m complaining. I’m making excuses for my mental illness. AM I allowed to do that? Being high functioning and mentally ill means you can get by even though your world is falling apart in your mind but you can’t take the day off right? Cause “at least you don’t have it as bad as some people”. I hate that. Even though i don’t exhibit signs of the extreme doesn’t mean that they don’t happen behind closed doors. Lately I’ve been so upfront about my mental illness that when i meet new people or new dates, I’ll be upfront about it. Sometimes I want it to be worse so that people would understand what goes on inside my head that they can’t normally see. But then i wonder how much of a grip I have left on my sanity. On my reality.
I feel like that could be a song. I’ll probably write that and post it later.
Us exactly the reason why i dobt keep a diary. Fuck. I cant remember breakfast in a good day. I’m high, not on my meds (gonna be fixing that one), and pretty…. not happy. Nor can i remember what it was that was so fucking awesome that i needed to blog about it. My memory hadn’t been great ever so i can’t imagine trying to write while high is going to be easier than writing drunk.
So, for the… Probably the 4th time in my life, I smoked pot. Disclaimer: I don’t condone the illegal use of legal or non legal drugs. I also don’t particularly think that people should go out and do this sort of shit without talking to your doctor.
I don’t really like what i’m going to tell you now but it all has to do with my aha moment. I’ve forgotten what it was already, but maybe i can get back to it. Look, one of the biggest reasons i decided to go with Ben to colorado was for the pot. I’m nearly 27 years old and never got into it for fear that my mom would somehow find it on me and kill me. (I can’t say whether or not she would have but only that I feared her.) And so i didn’t figure it was worth my time yet. After I got married to ‘Jack’ (name changed just in case the divorce turns against me) I knew it was a no-no because he said that he would probably divorce me for doing something he had been 10 years clean from and something he lived with for years after moving in with his best friend.
tl;dr I grew up sheltered and in fear. I didn’t have a whole lot of time to explore.
I’ll post again when i find the rest of what i was going to type…. it ran away from me and i fear that only hot chocolate will help…..
How do you even start writing? I’m not David Copperfield, though I was born. As opposed to being created and turned on into operation like a robot or something. I guess I was pulled out instead of pushed. Does that mean I was removed into this world? Gods, I can barely think. I’m watching The Big Bang Theory sitting on a couch that isn’t mine in a state I’ve never been to before. I’m sad that Sheldon doesn’t say Bazinga anymore. I really hope I can keep this up. I keep starting new journals and diaries but i never continue them. maybe it’s because the pen can’t keep up with my thought process. Sorry Pen.
To clarify, I’m in Colorado. This is to clarify the state and couch that isn’t mine. It’s snowing outside and it’s the first snow I’ve seen this winter. I really want a hot cocoa. Ben and I are up visiting his family for the holidays. Yule is pretty much over and we’re moving into the Christmas celebrations. Things are really awkward because Ben’s uncle is really conservative and we’re…. well, not. Let me explain:
I’m a Heathen Green Witch. I follow the path of the Norse beliefs and believe that I can help the universe and our world by creating things and giving them a special purpose in this world. I go thrift shopping and worry about global warming and how i can create a better world for my son. I’m also depressed and anxious to a medicated level that we’re still working on finding. I believe I may be schizophrenic but I haven’t been diagnosed yet. I try to be as open and honest as I can with everyone around me because I have nothing left to lose. I feel that trying to force people to believe in specific beliefs is futile and the only thing you can do is say your bit and move on. I’m polyamorous. I know that I have enough love in my heart to give to more than just one partner. I’m not a slut. Most of the time, my partners are there for me when I have breakdowns and need help getting to the hospital.
This blog will be about me, my life, my partners through my eyes, and all the little voices in my head that like to have a say.