This is the part of the story where the main character fades away indefinitely. I mean I am here, I’m still me but being on medication silences a big part of myself. It’s kind of like I’m banging away behind my eyes, like I’m trapped behind a two way mirror. I think I read a Goosebumps book like that once. Good writer R.L Stein. He and Steven King have been favorites of mine since I was 7 years old. I’d love to write a comparable narrative to their work one day.
Right now I am stuck in the intermission between who I am unhealthy off meds, and the med period where they work. I felt so sick making the boys lunches for school tomorrow. You know that part of feeling crook where you’re breathing through it, slightly drooling more than usual, mouth hanging a tad open. I can feel the impulses periodically shooting through my head like static zaps you see in the dark after taking off a woolen jumper. I’m OK, I’m not hearing the microwave speaking to me or anything haha but I am tired. Tired in a way that renders you sleepless. My body has actually taken to the medication like it is an old friend that it had fallen out of touch with. It is a good thing to be on and I will likely have a relationship with it for life. However there is still this nagging sensation in my brain that seems to scream at times…
“You are more comfortable in society but at the cost of something that makes you, YOU.”
I suppose I’ll identify that as time passes and I have had more time engaged in my current therapy treatments. Maybe it will go away all together. This brings up a fear for me. What if I’m about to lose myself for good? The person who has been here beside me, the one who kept going when I couldn’t. I always feared being sober because I would have to face the fact that my drunk persona wasn’t any different to my crazy persona. That person nobody liked and for good reason. Drinking was my excuse for my overly emotional outbursts rather than admitting I have poor social skills. In my mind I’m telling my loved ones how I feel and what I need. When they don’t respond the way I think I would, I tear myself up blaming me for my level inadequacy. Overly emotional posts and rants don’t go away for me. I just become more self conscious. Medication puts a vale over my insecurities, but at heart I still feel lost and very alone. I still want to know people I care about care about me too, and I still want to hear it entirely too often.
First world problems hey?! I recently read that an old friend of mine is in intensive care. We haven’t spoken in a long time, so it’s none of my business why, but a part of me wishes I could help. She obviously is very loved and cared for. An incredible artist. I have always admired her. She’s not that much older than me. Makes you reevaluate things. It is almost another friend of mine’s birthday. I think we’re rocking around 13 years since she died. I still think of her everyday. Ultimately my issues and problems are small, medicated or not. Feeling bad because I had to turn someone down who said they had a crush on me. Dwelling on a boy who is finally with the love of his life, who *spoiler alert* isn’t me. Feeling like someone else I love is slipping away from me. Two really. We all draw breath and every new day brings endless possibilities. My problems are ones I am lucky to have.Hopefully with the death of my issues, my narcissistic tendencies will too. I’m not much for praying but if you are maybe you could send one out for my friend.
The evolution is necessary, I know. The world rolls on in a cruel, unrelenting, undiscriminatory way. I have to adapt if I am going to survive. I just hope the change resembles wings more than claws xX