A semi-nightly blog about my uninteresting life, and how mental illness touches it.
Amends
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I feel like I'm trying to get somewhere that I've never been to without a map or a clear idea of where I'm going. I'm frustrated to tears and I just want to make things right, even if I don't know exactly how.
Yes, this post is late. Day 64. Mood: ~3.5. I spent approximately twelve hours in my lab, starting to work at 4pm 28 Apr and leaving around 4am 29 Apr. I told myself that it was because I wanted to finish processing specimens before the weekend, and that's what I told Favorite Person and Curly, who both inquired. In truth, though, I needed a long distraction from the mounting sense of being a failure. You see, from an early age, much of my sense of self-worth was based on my academic performance, and my involvement with things. I had praise for my intelligence heaped on heavily from the beginning, and that praise somehow eventually generated extremely high standards set for myself, standards that I've never been able to meet. Then, I befriend Favorite Person, who I watch meet and exceed the bar I set for myself, achieving what I expect of myself but am never able to accomplish. I'm always happy for her successes, because that's what friends do, but watchi...
Evening. Day 89 with Lexapro. I'm weighing the cost/benefits of stopping it cold turkey again, but I don't know if I can handle withdrawal again. Mood: 3. Today, I hiked up a mountain (though the Scots would call it "walking up a hill"), felt like garbage, and tried a cider that I really liked. It was Kopparberg strawberry and lime, and it is my new favorite alcoholic beverage. Getting to Loch Brandy, 2070' above sea level and about 1800' above the starting point, was a challenge, though more mentally than physically. Sure, I had to pause and rest more frequently than I would have liked, but my mind was a storm of why did I decide to do this? , I should turn around and go back down , what am I doing here? , I didn't deserve to go on this trip . Continuing to move forward despite all of what went on in my head was hard, to say the least. I did not enjoy the hike up; my body didn't like it, my mind didn't like it. The only reason I kept going was to ...
More than anything, this blog is feeling less like a record of my experience than a gaping hole to toss thoughts I can't otherwise express into. Hardly anyone will read these, so whatever I say here is more or less shouting into an infinite void that will never respond, no matter how much I want it to. I know that a lot of people talk to themselves more or less continuously in their minds, but I wonder how many have to endure a constant internal war between two mutually exclusive perspectives. A constant war where you have no idea which side is real, or if either side is real, or if anything that goes on can be trusted in any capacity. It's a miracle that I'm able to function at all when I can't trust any thought that crosses my mind. She doesn't give a shit about you, and she probably never has. Probably wants you gone, out of her space, out of her life. She does care, she just needs space. You know exactly the toll you've taken; she deserves to take...
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