Meds Galore-Sedated Emotions

Did I catch your attention? Cool beans.

Tomorrow I get more meds. I can’t fucking deal.

I don’t actually want more meds. I want to get off them, but if I get off them I’ll do what I truly want and fuck up my finances once more.

I’m so very very fucking miserable. The worse part? I’m so fucking sedated on mood stabilizers & antidepressants that I can’t even feel how miserable I am. You might think that’s the fucking point of these medications, and it is, but do you know how miserable it is to not be able to feel and act on how you feel? I miss my emotions. I miss crying all night long. I miss shouting at the top of my lungs in anger. I miss loving with all my might.

I feel so incredibly empty like I’ve never felt before. I’m spending money left and right trying to fill the void thats opened up.

I can stare at a wall for hours wondering what the fuck I’m doing with my life. I hate my life with all the emotion that’s left in me. I’m so very empty. I miss my emotions. I miss my thoughts. I miss my reactions. I don’t fucking care that they were extreme and persistent. They were mine. I look at photos of me and it’s like I’m looking at a different person.

Every smile is dead and every tear is fake. I can’t feel shit, or who knows, maybe this is how normal people feel shit?

This doesn’t feel right. I rather be disfunctionally emotional then emotionally dead. Every “feeling” feels so miniscule and unimportant. I’m taken over by the desire to run away and never come back. I want to start a new life some place else and do what I want.

I hate that I have to sedate my feelings to function because I need to live a life I hate, doing things I hate. I hate it all. I hate everything about my life. I wish living the life that makes me feel fulfilled wasn’t make believe. I’m not cut out for this society.

God I miss my crazy emotions. I miss me. I miss everything about me. Too bad she’s gone.

What Lies Beneath

Everyone tells me I sound better.

They say I’m doing much much better and that I’m succesful too.

I tell them I’m not, but that doesn’t matter they want to believe I’m better. No point in arguing against their beliefs. It’s a moot point. They won’t believe me anyway.

I look like I’m doing great from the outside in, but I’m not. I’m worse than I’ve ever been before.

How is that possible? The Meds. The Meds make me look more put together. They take the edge off of wanting help or arguing my point. They make me complacent.

They take away my desire to be understood and replace it with calm internal destruction. I’m still falling apart, but I no longer feel the need to beg for understanding, or help for that matter. I’m left with the calm knowledge that I’m fucked, no point in letting the world know, they can’t do shit for me.

I’m a functioning member of society now. That’s why people think I’m doing great, but I’m not. Why? Because I’m not feeling my feelings, I’m not doing what I love and I’m not living. I’m going through every damn motion pretending to be alive, when I’ve already subconsciously given up.

I’m a zombie. I wake up work, work some more, wish I could relax, go to sleep and repeat the same damn cycle every day.

This isn’t living, this is hell on earth. I can see why some people become suicidal on meds. It’s not that they don’t calm you down. They do. They leave you so calm in fact that you dissect every aspect of your life with perfect composure and then, when you find you’re fucked, with that same composure you choose to end the cycle. It becomes so unbelievably rational because you’re composed, and calm and it looks like the perfect way out. It’s not rash it’s planned and well thoughtout.

So, I’m not okay. I’m worse than I’ve ever been before because I no longer fight for what I want and I no longer care. Before I looked like I was extremely unstable because my moods and emotions were extreme, but they were mine and they were there because I was fighting for what I wanted. Now? I don’t fight for what I want. I wake up alone every day and I don’t fucking care. I’ve stopped caring that I don’t have love and that I’m not feeling fulfilled. I just go through the motions day and after day, but really I’m long since dead.

Everything I stand for, everything I believe, and everything I love is gone. I’m left with nothing but the motions of life.

I go through the motions and thats why I look better than ever. I’m no longer fighting society, or fighting for love or anything for that matter.

These Meds.

They left me perfectly docile and complacent. I’m going through the motions because that’s all I have. Everything else is gone and getting off the meds will only show the world what’s hidden inside.

So, I’m not okay, I’m worse than before, but that doesn’t matter. Nothing matters, all I have are the motions.

I’m perfectly complacent and docile. The extremes are still there but no one can see them.

It’s a false calm within the storm.


Mental Capacity-Work

Today I want to talk about my mental capacity.

No, I’m not here to say that I’m some genius.

No, I’m here to say that I’ve realized that I don’t think I can use my mental capacity within my profession.

Now don’t get me wrong it’s not that I am incapable. I am very capable. I joined my current job working 2 hours per week on a temp basis, within two weeks I was working 20 hours a week, and a week after that I was working full time.

Not long after that, I was promoted to a higher capacity within the company. I am the right hand of the company owner, and the CEO. I’ve only been working at the company for a few months, but I’ve managed to grow quickly.

I work between 40-60 hour weeks. I don’t have any days off most weeks.

I manage the company finances, scheduling, event planning, the creation of company newsletters, and customer service. Alongside the CEO I basically run the company from the ground up.

I am extremely capable and I have a strong work ethic; however, I am losing my mind at my current job. I hate my job with a profound passion. I make good money and I get to network with very high earning people, but that doesn’t matter. I’m losing my mind.

Why do I hate my job? Because I’m not allowed to work in peace. As soon as I fix one thing within the company I’m tossed some new thing to fix or handle. I don’t have a single moment to breath easy. My job is extremely stressfull.

Honestly I don’t get paid enough for all that I do, and even if I did I would still hate it. I can’t cope with the stress and anxiety. I am quite simply losing my mind.

So, that brings me back at full circle. I can’t use my mental capacity for my profession. I long for the days spent watching children, working retail jobs and leisurely making pottery.

I already have a fucked up brain, I can’t cope with a stressful highly demanding job as well. I mean sure I can do it, but at the cost of my already deteriorating mental health.

Whats $4-10K a month when life is dull and depressing and keeping you always on edge.

The money isn’t worth my sanity. Working sunrise to to sunset just isn’t worth it.

At least a physically laborous job would give my mind hours of rest. As I am now my mind never gets any rest. I count the days until the weekend when my bosses are off work so I can work in peace.

Oh what an odious life I live. Always strung out on anxiety, depression and sleep deprivation.

I just want to run away from my life & there isn’t enough medication in the world to change my unhappiness due to work.

I even get calls and surprise spur of the moment job requests that need to be done within minutes for work at 8 and 9pm. Nothing is sacred anymore.

I’m losing my mind…..


Why? One Trigger

So today, I’m pissed. I’m pissed because the one thing I ask people not to say is the one phrase they can’t help but say, It’s all in your head.

So help me, I fucking hate that bloody sentence with a passion. My whole life I’ve heard this sentence from my parents and from friends and well everyone else as well.

It’s in your head triggers a rage inside of me like no other. When I was younger this phrase fucked me up good. I thought my struggles weren’t real. I thought I wasn’t deserving of any help. Why would I need help if it’s all in my head? I’m making it up. I’m a horrible person who is making up stories for attention. My struggles aren’t real.

Ha, yeah that phrase really fucked me up. Now that I’m older it just makes me angry beyond reason, why? Because this phrase demeans my struggle to a mere imaginary struggle.

The connotations that follow from the sentence “It’s all in your head” are not nice.

The sentence ” It’s all in your head” implies the person is making it up, being dramatic or crazy.  Either way you look it the negative connotations that come from the phrase “It’s all in your head” are not cool.

My mother says, “It’s all in your head”, so often that it doesn’t even register in her mind as offensive. To her saying “It’s all in your head” is like saying “I’m tired”. She uses this phrase for absolutely every situation I may find myself in.

Is the food too spicy for me? Are my lips on fire? Nah, according to my mom “It’s all in my head”.

Am I really cold? Is it chilly outside? Nah, It’s all in my head.

Am I tired? Nah, It’s all in my head.

Every single bloody situation in which I find myself warrants the response “It’s all in your head”.

Now, am I being overly sensitive? You bet I am, your damn right I’m being overly sensitive, but I have a good reason. This phrase broke me 10 times over growing up. It took me years to realize I needed help and that it wasn’t just in my head. This phrase implies that nothing that I feel, perceive or think is real, and to make it worse I hear this bloody phrase every damn day multiple times a day.

I’ve explained to my mother over and over that saying that phrase sets me off. I’ve explained how that phrase has harmed my mental health and how it triggers me into blind anger, and you know what? She doesn’t fucking care. The woman still says it to me all the fucking time, but she doesn’t say it to anyone else. I have never heard her say that to anyone growing up or now. It’s a phrase specifically set aside for me which only makes me that much angrier.

So, that’s it for today. I don’t have anything philosophical or wise to say, or even interesting for that matter.

Today I just wanted to share my trigger phrase.

That’s it for now folks.

Sufism vs Christianity

Today, I want to talk about Sufism, and my journey as a Christian. First and foremost I would like to say that I am not against Christians or any other religion for that matter. All I share is my own experience as a Christian and my journey away from it.

I grew up reading the Bible, the Christian Bible, and it twisted and distorted my own point of view. That organized religion so strict and severe, made me hate myself at one point. I am the daughter of a pastor, a reverend, and priest. I was conditioned into believing that I had to act a certain way and think a certain way. As you may know, I am Bipolar and I also have BPD. In my family there existed no belief in mental health disorders, everything was determined by willpower and faith. If one had faith and holy actions one would be fine no matter what.

Well, I had faith, faith enough to move a mountain, but that didn’t stop me from being raped, bullied, and emotionally abused and it definitely didn’t stop my mental health disorders from manifesting themselves.

So…This very same faith that was meant to be my saving grace ended up painting me as person worth punishing. God is good so he surely couldn’t be the problem. This turned me into a scape goat, the black sheep that brought destruction and chaos upon herself. BUT I was just a teen who followed blindly into her parents religion. I was just a scared and confused teen who wanted acceptance and love, and help coping with the chaos within.

Well, I didn’t get any of that. Christianity sparked fear into my very soul. Not fear of Hell, or Death, no it brought the fear of having to live alone with my shame and my chaos within for the rest of my life, without ever having a single soul acknowledge my pain and confusion. Regardless of that, I clung to my faith until there was nothing left to cling to.

Travel saved me. I moved away from my family when I was 20, to Europe, to Spain and for the first time in my life I was master of my own domain. I learned to love more liberally and to accept myself scars and all. I learned to look from the outside in because I was more than a sinning soul. I was not separate but one with life.

I picked up philosophy, culture and much more spirituality, but most importantly I picked up love, love for myself and what I wanted.

In comes Sufism. I had a crazy boyfriend in Spain, two years younger, more of a loner than I and exceptionally charismatic. One day he asked to read a book by guy named Osho. I never read the book he told me, but I remembered the name.

One day I stumbled upon “The Wisdom of the Sand” narrated by Osho, and I found deep meaning in a story about a river meant to cross a desert. I realized we are nothing more than life meant to love and life and search within only to find one is both nothing and everything. I posted the story yesterday. Today I post below an audio podcast of one such explanation of what Sufism is. I can hold every religion and none at all, and it matters not. The essence, the spirituality, the search is what matters.

Being Bipolar I see the duality and the whole recognizing that I am one and all at once. I am but a passenger in the ups and the downs because they are one in the same, affecting me through chemistry, but not changing the essence of who I am, and who I’m not. Spirituality did not disappear when I walked away from organized religion, it grew because I had to search on my own.

I’m no Dr. in Spirituality, But to me, Sufism is the search for more, for everything and nothing all at once. It’s part of my treatment, self-imposed of course.


I’m Thankful

The majority of this blog is dedicated to complaints regarding my mental health, my finances, and well my life in general, but today I want to talk about something else.

Although my mental health is a pain in the ass I accept that it makes me who I am, and I’m right proud of who I am and my accomplishments.

I’ve lived a good life. It’s really that simple.

As a little girl I could only dream of writing a book, traveling the world, graduating university, falling in love, and growing spiritually. These were my dreams and I could only wish and hope that one day I would make myself proud.

Today at 23 I can say that I’ve done all of those things, and well I hope to continue doing so in the future.

Sure, the book I wrote was more of journal detailing my struggles, and the travels I’ve done only last 4 years of my life, the people I fell in love with walked away from me, but ultimately it’s not what other people do or how they react that is fulfilling. What is fulfilling about my life is that I ventured forth to conquer the world and do the things that made me feel alive. Though my love life is currently nonexistent, I’ve loved profoundly. Though I’m stuck in one place for the time being I still have the soul of an adventurer. Though the friends I’ve made are greatly spread across this planet, that doesn’t make them any less special.

I’ve lived so passionately, in a way that I suspect few people have, and I wouldn’t have it any other way. I’ve conquered my fears to hell and back. I’ve learned to dominate my own mind and my irrational fears.

As a person diagnosed with bpd, I’ve an extreme fear of abandonment and it’s super hard for me to let go. As I’ve traveled the world, fallen in love and made friends I’ve had to say goodbye, sometimes forever, more times than I can count. People passing by life have made lasting impressions and helped shape me into who I’ve become.

I’ve made it my life’s purpose to never let fear stop me from doing what I desperately desire.

Some of my fears are petty, like my extreme fear of heights, others are deeply ingrained like my fear of abandonment, but small or large I’ve made it my business to live regardless of what obstacles my mind places before me.

I want to live passionately, and die doing what sparks passion in me.  Mediocre will never be enough for me.

Some people spend their whole lives following the rules:

Going to school


Going to University


Getting a 9-5 Job

Getting married

Having kids

& Taking the one week vacation a year

But, I can’t do that. My mind is made for so much more than a 9-5 job and a one week vacation a year. If I marry let it be for passionate love. If I’ve children let them learn through travel and language acquisition. Let me think of thoughts uncharted and perhaps one day a revolutionary idea may grace my mind.

My mind doesn’t work the same, I need more, more challenges, more love, more passion, more learning, more nature, more culture, my mind needs more everything outside the 9-5 that cages me into unfulfilling expectations.

So, My life has been amazing thus far. I’ve had many many struggles and lots of pain and depression, and mania that makes me act out stupidly, but in the end, at the edge of my sanity, I remember that my life has been amazing, and it’s worth every minute and every second of the bad, because the good is that good.