I Can.

I have a sneaking suspicion that many of my problems right now are being caused by my meds. I am tired all of the time. I have such little motivation. I’m getting things done, but poorly. But when I was writing my creative writing application, I was so enthused. I wrote enough. I wasn’t depressed. Maybe it’s as simple as hope. Not hope, but purpose and meaning. I created meaning in my life through writing. Writing to a deal line. I need to take this blog more seriously. I’m really just letting time pass me by, siphoning away my talents and interests. I am siphoning away. Read an article about recovery. She states that “recovery is a mis-nomer.” It is true. We do not recover. We are taken to a foreign land and expected to recover to our old selves and states, when really we are building from scratch. The world is confused when they look at us, on our small plot of land, toy bucket and shovel mixing sand and water at appropriate ratios. Where do I find real building materials? When will the real work begin? I feel like this hasn’t been real work and that everything I’ve done has just been me at play. Some twisted world where the mere act of staying alive is play. I have kept myself alive, that is my only victory. In a suicidal mind, that victory must be honoured and respected. I do not know how to celebrate what is, in my opinion, such a feeble victory. I need more underwear. If I can’t trust my feelings, what can I trust? Logic? I suppose so. I have proof that I am intelligent. I may not the a super genius, but I am very intelligent. Above average, even. It’s okay to not be a super genius. Ha ha, but I want to be. I want to super at everything, but that isn’t possible. Well, it is. I have seen, and at times been, human proof. I believe in life. I believe in outliving pain and trauma and disease. Well, I believe that it’s possible, but I’m not sure if I can do it. Can I survive on this planet? Browsing around OkCupid. I am not studying. This is a problem. 

Just talked to my mom on the phone. I feel so desolate. So desperate and, not exactly alone, but hopeless. I feel the future is a tragedy waiting to happen. But things can turn around. So many people suffer so much more than I have and they have survived. I can too. 

About Undecided Pseudonym

A woman who remembers enjoying writing.
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