anxiety
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A man knows not where he is. Drifting through a conscious unawareness, confused at why these people are in his house. Calling out to his long dead wife. Do we live too long? Have all our medical advances only prolonged the life of our bodies at the cost of our minds? I don’t know. We
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I ordered the bunk bed with shelving and the two twin mattresses. I am totally fixated. I want this done and the room restored. It’s a storage area too, and I’ve told my mother to put in there whatever she wants. I bought a nice two layer clothing rack and hung up all her stuff.
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I had a bunk bed with shelves and new mattresses, all picked out. Then my mom goes and throws a bunch of shit in there. Not so bad but right in the way of where the bunk bed will be. I peeked in the boxes, and it appeared to be mostly Liam’s (my nephew) old
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I work too much. I’m aware of that. But I wouldn’t quit my jobs. Even the Sacred Heart one, in which I may be doing my APE project for grad school. It looms in front of me like a mountain, huge and imposing. Last night we had a terrible case of squamous cell carcinoma of
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There is a construction zone around 4th avenue, and I must detour on my way to work. The mental hospital is on my route to work, so now instead of driving by it, I drive with it looming in front of me. I don’t know that I will ever get over it. I have a
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I am a man who feels more stable under routine conditions: I develop routines for my day, my week, for grad school and work and I apply these routines to the smallest things like what clothes I wear or how I arrange my house. I have always been into a routine. Or sought to develop
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I’m trying to use coping skills. The little dumb ones, like listening to music, especially during triggers and stress. Writing. You think this blog is cringe? Should see my paper journal. I use grounding when I dissociate – what can I feel? See? Hear? This involves a bit of mindfulness, and I am not always
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I don’t feel very good and I feel bad for feeling bad. I’m thinking a lot about my psych meds. The first group I had to attend my very first morning in the mental hospital last year was about “making the most of your psychiatric medications.” How to take them every day without fail no
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I’ve caught up on my meds. I’m feeling rather turbo charged despite a lack of sleep and living on mostly chocolate the last few days. The PTSD symptoms are still ever present. I saw a rust-colored car and immediately felt short of breath and my heart beat faster. Rust is the color of the elopement
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I missed my meds this morning. Oops. I can’t decide whether to stay home or go out this Halloween. Both options are overwhelming. Home with my mother, who is often plain miserable to be around, or my elaborate costume idea and going to a show to which I’ve been invited. Here is the idea: first
Documenting my journey through the mental health system 