Shell shocked.

Better I should read my own words and live by them, than to be in the skin I live in now. I yanked those fucking straps, I threw myself into the dance, and fell down bloody and broken. So much continues to go wrong as I try to move forward, I feel as if I am trudging through a war zone, waiting for the next bomb to fall. And oh, how melodramatic to say that, but for criminy's sake, when will it fucking end? I count up the things that go well, I count up the things that don't, and that balance inevitably tips to the bad. Weighing me down until I can barely move.

I try. Oh how I have been trying to be with people, near them, with them. I'm lonely for a life outside my household, but I don't know how to do it. I always make mistakes, and am left standing baffled as to why I am still alone. I'm really friendly, probably too friendly, but I get so nervous and I'm probably saying the wrong things. Later I beat myself up over and over as to how I could have been such an idiot. Seeing all the mistakes I made. I feel as if I will perpetually be on the outside. I've rarely been let in, and then only through a manic energy that lets me have confidence in myself for a short while. I want to apologize to the world for how pathetic I am, but this is not how I grew myself. This is the woman formed by abuse and neglect and lifelong illness. The woman I try to grow is strong and happy and part of the world. Maybe it's a faulty design, because I'm not really sure what that looks like.

Ack, how whiny. I am so sad these last days, missing my little (17 year old) son. He moved back with his father, so he could go to school with his old friends. Leaving me bereft. And damnit, just when I really needed him here. There is too much confusion and chaos, my brain won't stop and my ears are ringing in a new wave of hallucinations. At least I know they are coming-- when the dose was lowered before, they came about a week later and here we are a week after stopping the pill. Things have been getting kind of twitchy for a few days now. How do I explain that this might be bad news, but at the same time it is utterly commonplace? I mean it can get bad, it can get horrifying, with monsters hiding under my bed and every face I see transformed to evil. But mostly, it's just weird and-- I am absolutely NOT supposed to think this-- it's interesting. As long as I hold on enough to a thread leading me back to the reality other people live in, I can accept it as it comes. For years I just thought I was connected to the universe more deeply than other people, that I could see things as they really were. I didn't medicate all of that away. And though stopping that pill has thrown me into a whirlwind of emotion, at least I am feeling emotion again. I just forgot how to swim in it.