I came back from the Washington D.C. bus tour this past Monday, ill in mind and body. I felt so broken and tired when I got back home and tried to get ready for work the next day. Well when I woke up Tuesday I had a nasty cold and did call in. Spent that time at home applying for other jobs.
I’m all over the place really. There is not time to have a complete thought with creating anymore art works and waking up seems like it’s part of an awful punishment I’m sentenced to. Who would want to go about their days like this? I am learning so much more about personality disorders and the challenges ahead to change patterns that cause more problems and I wonder if it’s too hopeful of me to think what changes I make will mean something worthwhile. I feel like I’m always too late for anyone’s faith in me.
The psychiatrist has written me 5 months worth of drugs and I don’t have to see him again until February. I cringe to think about what I will be like by that time. Will I still be here trying, or will that be an appointment I choose to cancel after choosing to quit treatment? Choosing to quit trying to untangle the knot I’ve made of my life? The new therapist has help enough by challenging the difficult person I step into his office as. Treating me like I’m flesh and blood and not a wad of garbage I consider myself.
I just mean to say I need another way to go about this living. I’ve given up the choir’s demands and have stuck in there with working a job I’m nearly driven mad by. And there is no one to talk to. And night sets in and doesn’t ease up when the sun does.I’m afraid that darkness may be the only thing I ever have holding onto me, as no one else is able to.