The space between

6/17

There's this place between struggle and medication. The time just before the Xanax starts working.

Inspiration is everywhere. 

Topsy-turvy. 

The trees are blue and purple and black and swirly. The grass is orange as far as the eye can see. Crimson skies and green suns warm my bones and welcome me back.

Everything beautiful and peaceful and calming.

Everything dangerous and deadly and terrifying

I think I'd love to live there. 

In that space between chaos and peace.

Where anything awesome or awful I imagine comes to life.

Teetering in the center of the seesaw between 

Sanity                             Madness
                        ^                             

Perfect balance of both.

I'd jump head first down that rabbit hole.

The seats in my truck.

7-18-17

Three seats in my truck.


The first is the driver's seat. I'm doing well. I'm on my meds. They're working. I'm in control. I'm present. I'm making progress.


The passenger's seat. I'm manic. I have no control of where I'm going or how I get there. I space out. I don't know how I got from point A to point B. My life and safety is not in my hands.


The middle seat is complex. 

In the upright position I can sit there. No leg room. Uncomfortable. The worst. This sat is my lowest point of depression. I can make it somewhat comfortable if I have to. But the thing is, with my meds. The seat folds down.

There's a few perks. It has cup holders for the other two seats. Works as an arm rest. Has storage. That's the depression on meds. Silver lining.

But when I'm down, I have to sit on it, folded like that. I desperately want the comforting familiarity of the seat back position. But I can't get it to work. Meds won't allow it. So I'm stuck. Sitting on this center console. Sad, Uncomfortable, and pissed off.


We don't talk about what's in the back seats. *shifty eyes*

Downward Spiral

Stock image from google. If you can find the artist, let me know so I can credit them.
6/7/17



Down.


Down. 


Down.


Way below the Way Down. In the darkness where everything breeds with sadness until it's all nothing.

Crawl down into the deep. Searching for safety in solidarity with solitude. Fortress of darkness. Mistress of All Alone. 

Sink into it like a mattress that's too soft. 

Hear the subway trains fly by on their tracks. Coming from nowhere. Headed to no destination in particular. Cars packed full of fast thoughts. Racing, Racing, let them pass. 

Catch a face in a window. And another. Faces become thoughts again, not just subway cars blurring by.

Transfixing thoughts. 

Parasitic thoughts that crawl into your ear and lay their parasite thought eggs; eating your brain until they are all consuming.

Paranoid, parasitic, passengers. 

Try to crawl further down. 

Below the subways with the parasite passengers.

Train cars whizzing overhead, like so many flies on carrion.

No refuge to be found in the Way Down.

No quiet.

No peace.

No clarity.

Just train cars...

And the only way out is UP.

To pill or not to pill?

Note to myself: Take the Xanax when this damn narrative starts. Before you're a sobbing wreck. When the thoughts come, it's time.

The Xanax was prescribed to help.

What if I'm taking too much and abusing them?

You are only taking two a day, the Rx was for three+ a day.

But the Rx doesn't have enough pills for three+ a day. It's a test! You are going to fail and she will refuse to help you!

It's not a test. If I run out I'm sure she'll write another Rx for the remaining 15 or so pills.

But what if she won't because you've become a Xanax addict? What if you don't really need them. You're just taking them because it feels good?

Two a day does not an addict make. Are you high right now?

No. But what if I can't function without the two a day?

Then you take the two a day because they are helping you.

What if she decides I'm doing better and don't need the Xanax anymore and I bottom out again?

Doubtful. But if that happens talk to her. I'm sure she'll help you.

I feel myself slowing down. What am I without the constant fear?

Alive.

Bonus Doodle!

Why is one more light so heavy?

7-25-17

Why is everything so heavy?     For Andrea, and everyone else who loved Chester, With love.

Did you hear the rumbling of the train on it's tracks? Fast approaching. Headed straight for you. Were you drawn to it's warm lighted seating area for expectant weary travelers? Promising comfort and safe passage. 

You must've, we all do. Those of us drawn to an end to our suffering. We hear the comings and goings of that dark train, on and off. Sometimes we casually observe as it passes by. Sometimes we're drawn to the train stop it's self, as if we can find answers there. Looking for some sort of schedule or pattern. If the train is anything but arbitrary we'll never know.

Most passengers will attempt to board more than once in heir lives. I have a few times. Each time being spat out, at the stop, more violently than the last. 

I don't know what the statistics are, but not all of us will find out where that train goes or why. I can only hope that it's weary travelers have left the heaviness of their luggage behind. And the destination is kinder than the origin.

Rest in Peace Chris Cornell and Chester Bennington

Below are lyrics to "Heavy" and "One more Light" Lyrics written by Chester Bennington


"Heavy"

I don't like my mind right now
Stacking up problems that are so unnecessary
Wish that I could slow things down
I wanna let go but there's comfort in the panic
And I drive myself crazy
Thinking everything's about me
Yeah, I drive myself crazy
'Cause I can’t escape the gravity

I'm holding on
Why is everything so heavy?
Holding on
So much more than I can carry
I keep dragging around what's bringing me down
If I just let go, I'd be set free
Holding on
Why is everything so heavy?

You say that I'm paranoid
But I'm pretty sure the world is out to get me
It's not like I make the choice
To let my mind stay so fucking messy
I know I'm not the center of the universe
But you keep spinning 'round me just the same
I know I'm not the center of the universe
But you keep spinning 'round me just the same

I'm holding on
Why is everything so heavy?
Holding on
So much more than I can carry
I keep dragging around what's bringing me down
If I just let go, I'd be set free
Holding on
Why is everything so heavy?

I know I'm not the center of the universe
But you keep spinning 'round me just the same
I know I'm not the center of the universe
But you keep spinning 'round me just the same
And I drive myself crazy
Thinking everything’s about me

Holding on
Why is everything so heavy?
Holding on
So much more than I can carry
I keep dragging around what's bringing me down
If I just let go, I'd be set free
Holding on
Why is everything so heavy?

"One more Light"

Should've stayed, were there signs, I ignored?
Can I help you, not to hurt, anymore?
We saw brilliance, when the world, was asleep
There are things that we can have, but can't keep

If they say
Who cares if one more light goes out?
In a sky of a million stars
It flickers, flickers
Who cares when someone's time runs out?
If a moment is all we are
We're quicker, quicker
Who cares if one more light goes out?
Well I do

The reminders pull the floor from your feet
In the kitchen, one more chair than you need oh
And you're angry, and you should be, it's not fair
Just 'cause you can't see it, doesn't mean it, isn't there

If they say
Who cares if one more light goes out?
In a sky of a million stars
It flickers, flickers
Who cares when someone's time runs out?
If a moment is all we are
We're quicker, quicker
Who cares if one more light goes out?
Well I do

Who cares if one more light goes out?
In a sky of a million stars
It flickers, flickers
Who cares when someone's time runs out?
If a moment is all we are
We're quicker, quicker
Who cares if one more light goes out?
Well I do

Well I do

https://suicidepreventionlifeline.org/

National Suicide Prevention Hotline
1-800-273-8255

Anxiety Addict in Recovery

5/5/17  

  My anxiety is like a drug addict. Lying and manipulating and trying to keep it's addiction secret and safe. It's often in survival mode. "Don't take the Xanax!*"  It screams at me. Trying to convince me that I have misconstrued the situation. Gaslighting me so I won't trust my own judgement. Twisting thoughts and emotions so I'm convinced I'M the addict and it's just trying to protect me from danger, or drug addiction. It argues with my logic.

    "But what if..." That is the mantra of anxiety. "But what if..." Death, destruction, catastrophe, apocalypse... That's inevitably what "But what if..." leads to."But what if I can get healthy and function?" My logical brain retorts.  "But what if it's all a placebo, it will wear off soon enough. The sweet sense of peace and calm and clarity will be ripped away from you. You will get worse. So much worse! You probably won't survive that fall. Is it worth the risk? Just stop now. Before it's too late!" 

    Like a demon in my head, seducing me to relinquish my soul for the sake of familiarity. The darkness shrouding me like a safety blanket. Warm and cozy and hidden away from the world. The illusion of safety. Yet every dog bark, every bump, or knock, or loud truck, or heavy breeze, sends me spiraling out of control. The illusion broken for a moment. "I AM NOT SAFE HERE!"

   My mind races and my heart pounds in my ears. Loud enough to drown out all the voices, save one. "You are dying. You are having a heart attack and you are dying. Your husband and kids will be so sad."  It's not teasing,. nor is it sad. Just matter of factly. A statement of truth. "You are dying." 

    I can't catch my breath. The quickened beating of my heart in my ears is deafening, like thunder. I desperately try to slow it. Hands on stomach. Breathe slow. In through nose. Out through mouth. Body check. What can I feel? But I'm numb. What can I hear? My heart and gasping breath. Too fast. It's TOO FAST! Nothing is working. I don't want to die! 

    I'm sobbing now. Writhing in pain. My whole body hurts. My legs push at the mattress. I try to crawl away from this death. My family flashes through my mind again. Their sorrow. I can feel it. My heart feels broken. I want to throw up. I try to make myself small. So small. I want to disappear. I want to have never been born. I just want this to stop. Death would be better than this. It hurts so much!

    My clothes are soaked with sweat. My face and hair and and pillows drenched with sweat and snot. Every part of me is exhausted from fighting. Bit by bit I can feel my limbs giving up. Accepting defeat. Welcoming death. My legs stop writhing. Then my arms fall still. My stomach unclenches, my breathing steadies. My heart no longer feels like it's trying to escape my chest. I can no longer hear it in my ears. 

    Instead I hear ambient sounds. A fan. A neighbor dog. The tears stop flowing. My chest relaxes last. My mind quiets. I can feel that anxious part of my brain smirking, proud of how it has broken me. But I am not dead. Somehow I survived the assault on my mind, body, and soul. I emerge from my bed. Drained. I blow my nose and wash my swollen, tear stained face. 

  

    I don't want to do this anymore. This isn't fair! Why do I have to live like this? Why won't anybody fucking help me?!

    My brain is a liar! It thrives on chaos and mayhem. It's addicted to the fear and adrenaline. It will fight and resist any and all treatment. "My Precioussss" It sneers. This is my daily life. It is as routine and bitter as my morning coffee.

    But I tricked it. I threw it a curveball that it couldn't anticipate or derail. I reached out for help.  I asked someone else to make appointments for therapy and to get meds. I told them no-matter how hard I fight MAKE ME GO! 

    Sick brain raged and fought. Now I have meds. Sick brain argues every time against the meds. Logic brain is getting stronger. It has tools to fight back. It's not very strong yet. But eventually, eventually it wins. I take the little blue pill and hear anxiety scream in fury! Then it flickers out like a candle flame. 

    The beast sleeps. I am calm. I can focus and concentrate. The weight on my shoulders is lifted. I have peace and joy. And focus.

    And most of all, I have hope.

*Blue pill is generic for Xanax. Also, not it's actual name. lol

    

April, 2017