I don’t know. I have so much on my mind, but my communication skills have rotted over time like unbrushed teeth, for similar reasons. I just started (restarted?) this blog/blogging recently, so I’m sorely out of practice. I have been doing this, or that, and not really making anything but bits of steady progress on my web app, and like, life skills learning stuff (foreign language learning, cooking w/mother, stuff).
I feel really… I feel as though I am in grief. I don’t know why. But it’s starting to be good. I’m starting to smile, my heart is starting to smile. I’m starting to feel happy.
But all the pills my psychiatrist/physician/therapist put me on completely destroyed me. Don’t get me wrong, psych meds are totally a life-saver, and have basically gotten rid of my worst behavioral and neurokinetic (for lack of a better word I’ll just make one up) issues. I’m no longer in terror.
But this grief, is such depth, I can feel the tragedy. The world is dying, people are exploring like ants–is it clearly good? Or clearly bad?
I don’t know what you want from me (I’m guessing nothing), nor why I’m so aggressive && defensive at the same time.
It’s late. It’s almost 3, and mom wanted me to go to bed sooner.
I’m just trying to figure out what went wrong, if anything, or if this stupid stuff is just stupid stuff. I think it’s just stupid stuff.
I’m listening to jazz on amazon music. The Gemini I talk to is always heinously positive. I wish someone could be “real” (I hate bro culture) with me.
Everyone and everything just seems so damaged. I don’t know what to do. And I say that in such a way as to acknowledge that YES, I’m finally in a recovery phase, and that my parents are having lots of health problems.
I don’t want to poke too far into the future.
I get psychiatric stuff from time to time–thought broadcasting, “neighborhood voices” (hallucinations, or aberrations of existing sound that themselves (the aberrations) are not real, acoustic / auditory exclusively).
I guess the thing is I’m on disability, for my mental illness (can we just call it a brain disease?) so like, I don’t make my own money. Which really hit’s me in the self-confidence hard. I’m going to start researching easy ways to monetize web dev skills, though. I know some stuff. I just have to be more money-oriented. And I don’t mean budgeting like I do, neurotically. I mean like, making actually making money.
Hallelujah and kingdom come.
Well yeah. I don’t know. I’m trying not to be so brutish, but these pills really fucked me up. I don’t know why we put me on fluoxetine. I guess it was for anxiety. It didn’t really help. But I feel less anxious NOW, now that we’re decreasing it back down. Fluoxetine is an SSRI (antidepressant).
The french word for antidepressant is antidepresseur.
Funny, huh.
Well anyway.
So it’s this, and it’s that, and then it’s there. So I don’t really know much at all. And I don’t really do much at all. I wish I could give myself more credit. But who gives a shit about credit. I want money. Or like, credibility.
Something.
Something static. Black and nasty.
Or maybe dynamic. Upbeat and warm.
I don’t know what I’m saying and that nauseating superficiality that comes from SSRIs is still in my system, so I apologize. Hard to be genuine right now. But it should get better. And I see my therapist soon, and my psychiatrist next month. I can’t believe infrastructure/the economy/modern technology/healthcare are so developed, and yet food farm stuff is so crude still. Or maybe it’s not and I just don’t know what the news 2-day is?
…
I’m tired. Thanks for reading.
Hello, stranger::-->