i have more words
i just don’t know what they are yet
and i don’t want to scream into the abyss just to scream
just for it to see me too
i want to really say something
i want your heart to pound
eyes to water
i want you to look over your shoulder at night when you’re alone, in the dark, and you hear a sound
i want you to feel
i want to feel
and it scares me
scares me that we are so disconnected
even though we’re all breathing the same air
beating the same blood through veins
screaming with the same lungs
touching with the same skin
this spider has us wrapped so tightly in her web
and it scares me
there’s nowhere for me to run
from this consciousness that causes so much scorched land
broken promises and forced agreeance
but if we can see it
the subtle paralytic wrapping and wrapping and wrapping
we are free
but i don’t know the words
and i’m afraid
(aren’t we all?)
that no one is listening anyway
because negativity hurts my heart and that last post was heavy. and the idea of throwing anything heavy at your head or heart without also throwing rainbows and fluffy cuteness and hugs hurts my heart…
please enjoy some of the amazing beauty our world has to offer.
because looking at hard things is important but looking at beauty, taking time for ourselves, and breathing in the wonder our world has to offer, is also JUST as important.
(all images courtesy of Pixabay)
I recently had to get tested for covid (as I’m sick and someone around me came up positive) and what really struck me was the TREATMENT I received.
And not just me, my entire family.
My body thinks it’s job is to attack itself, so I’m not a very healthy person. I see a lot of doctors. And there are two times recently that doctors have just blown my mind in a bad way.
The second, was when going to get tested. It was outback of my doctor’s office, where they pointed for us to park, then disappeared for half an hour.
They were nervous, that was obvious, and I get it. I don’t want to catch the corona-virus and they don’t either. But they barely even looked at me or my family as we were getting tested. They had us get out of the car and sit in this little area they constructed right in front of us without saying a word.
They stood there talking with one another and entirely ignoring me. Like I’m not a human who is nervous that I might have a virus that is killing people, who’s sick, and about to have a swab jammed up her nose into her brain.
It’s like I wasn’t there. Like I didn’t matter. Like their fear of getting the virus was more important than the fact that someone was sitting there.
And again, I get it, doctors can’t get too attached to their patients or they’d get emotionally torn up. But pretending I’m a robot or not even there at all, is messed up.
To not even speak to me except to tell me to look forward and I can go now, is not okay.
I see a lot of doctors who are AMAZING. So I know it’s not impossible to treat me like I’m a person with feelings and fears, too.
The first time this past month that a doctor blew my mind was when I went in sobbing, to talk about my mental health. To ask for help, again.
I found out from my primary care physician that my last psychiatrist has entirely messed up my medical history. It says I took a medication for a year, which I took once. It doesn’t detail why I had to quit taking mood stabilizers due to extreme symptoms. It doesn’t detail that he told me I needed to be committed and he couldn’t help me anymore.
Which – at the time I believed him, so I went to the hospital. The people who interview you to commit you or not were blown away and suggested I see a different psychiatrist. They said they’d get laughed out of their boss’ office if they tried committing me, and that I was doing great for all the health issues I was dealing with.
They also suggested I go see my regular doctor because they believed I was hallucinating simply due to lack of sleep, caused by a sudden case of restless leg syndrome (a symptom of the mood stabilizers, which no one ever mentioned, even though it’s a health issue my family all has). I DID go see my doc and she gave me a prescription and POOF I could sleep. And what do you know? My hallucinations went away. Because of restless leg syndrome. Even though my psychiatrist said it was my bipolar and I needed to be committed.
Safe to say, I never saw that psychiatrist again. He didn’t listen to me, didn’t tell me what possible symptoms could happen, or really hear anything I had to say. I was pretty scared of the idea of seeing a psychiatrist ever again. So I just didn’t go see him anymore. I kept up with therapy and for years, I’ve been doing totally fine.
Yeah, depression and anxiety mess with me. But the mood stabilizers caused my other health issues to keep me from functioning at all and didn’t actually help the depression or anxiety AT ALL. So not taking them wasn’t a big deal to me.
Until I had a job that was messing with me for several bad reasons. It was a very unhealthy situation and I was in a lot of pain.
So here I am, asking my primary care doctor for help and then finding out my last psychiatrist had messed up my medical history.
But this was all backstory. This wasn’t what upset me!
It was my primary care doctor’s response to me.
She acted like I was a lying crazy person who obviously just didn’t have any integrity or memory power.
As if my psychiatrist was right and I must have…. FORGOT that I took a medication for a year??? Or that I was lying and filled a medication I wasn’t taking for a year (because, yeah, she insinuated I’d filled it and just not taken it)??? When in fact, I filled it ONCE and never again…
I’m on the bipolar spectrum. I don’t have the scary Bipolar 1 or 2 that some people have to deal with. Or even that third one that starts with a “c”. I’m simply on the spectrum.
I don’t have hallucinations unless I’m only getting 20 minutes of sleep a night for a month straight because of restless leg syndrome, caused by a mood stabilizer because my psychiatrist didn’t pay attention to my family medical history and decided to give me a medication that CAUSES restless leg syndrome if the patient has a family history of it. … (And restless leg syndrome didn’t go away just because I stopped taking the mood stabilizer. I now take a pill for it DAILY that helps most of the time.)
I don’t EVER have mania, only hypo-mania. I NEVER have had a psychotic break or delusions of grandeur or anything like that. I just feel A LOT of depression and anxiety and I FEEL TOO MUCH.
But my doctor was acting like I was a full blown crazy person who just must not remember what she did. *in a huge condescending tone*
I was blown away. How do doctors like this handle people who DO have psychotic breaks? Do they just believe those people are incapable of knowing the difference between life and hallucinations? I mean, how is it that a DOCTOR can treat another human being like they’re an idiot who knows nothing? Or are all lairs because they have a mental illness? The huge wall that I just felt go up between us was depressing, to put a word to it.
Like I was suddenly an unreliable narrator in a story and couldn’t be trusted.
And what’s so infuriating is that I’m such a goody two shoes! On purpose! I hate lying!
It was just too much for me. And after all that, my primary care doc didn’t actually help with the depression or anxiety, but referred me to a new psychiatrist, who I’m terrified to see.
On the upside, my therapist agrees that I’ve had terrible experiences and understands why I’m now afraid to see another psychiatrist.
Although, now that I’ve quit that job, I’m feeling much better and don’t feel as pushed into NEVER ENDING MISERY as I did a few weeks ago. So do I even need to see a psychiatrist? Do they TALK to you or just throw meds at you? Because the meds make my health worse. (which by the way, can we talk about how i legit thought you could take anti anxiety or depression meds and they just fixed you? without any symptoms?? aaaahhhhh…. the naivety…..🤣🤣 …. I wish I’d been smarter and looked into possible symptoms or interactions on my own, years ago, before starting that journey.)
And then I went on twitter and between the coronavirus and all the hate…. I just couldn’t anymore.
So I had to take a mental health break. From everything, everywhere. Because sometimes life just hurts. And all I can do is hide under my shell like a turtle until the hurt doesn’t outweigh my own ability to breathe.
And if you need to do that? No shame. Social media has a way of putting a megaphone to things, whether good or bad. For someone who already FEELS THINGS MORE INTENSELY cuz I’m bipolar… not good. Add bad health and feeling out of control of my own life.
Just too much.
So I took a week off twitter and blogging.
and it felt GREAT, to be honest
but yeah, i just needed this all off my chest. there are FABULOUS doctors out there. but this really scared me. i find it hard to be honest with doctors BECAUSE of situations like this.
(and no, i don’t have my covid test results back yet 😫)
I’m not saying don’t see a psychiatrist, I’m just saying, find the right doctors for YOU. Who SEE YOU as a person and treat you with dignity and respect. 💜
So last week I didn’t do any blogging or step into Twitter because I just
And you know what? People were pretty cool about it.
I just want to celebrate that for a moment.
We are a crazy society that sometimes causes pain out of thin air, makes bad situations worse, and uses hate to fight hate.
But we are also adaptable and beautiful and capable of healthy change. Of coming together and lifting one another.
Yeah, there are nasty people in this world. Hateful, bigoted, dangerous people who just want to spread pain and misery.
BUT there are wonderful people in this world, too. People who fight for what is right, people who would NEVER step on someone else to get higher up the ladder, who comfort those that need comfort, and mourn with those that are mourning.
There are lovely people who truly SEE those around them. Who support and lead and spread joy and hope in ways that touch hearts and invigorate minds.
A simple smile. Someone talking to you like you’re really there, like you’re human. A hug (when it’s welcomed). Someone to sit with you while you cry and just BE there.
There are wondrous human beings.
And there is hope. No matter how much life hurts. There is hope.
isn’t our world so wonderfully odd?
strong and hard are not always synonymous.
being hard can be weak. it can be bullying, lost, hardened until one cannot or doesn’t want to treat others with kindness. it can be unbendable, making it easily breakable. destructive. a road block.
hardness can be the weakest option we have, sometimes.
sometimes the softest you can be is also the strongest.
compassion, patience, sweetness in a world that at times gives its best to crush you…
that is strength.
I was lying on my back on the kitchen floor.
it smelled like warm cinnamon rolls. the day was beginnings and endings knit together. starting and ending. over and over again. little pieces of life, slices of emotion. it had been an odd day. a good day.
the evening lulled into a comfortable, languid, happiness.
she cleaned the cutting board, wiped it off with a blue fuzzy towel.
a small portion of bubbles crawled under the cutting board, where she couldn’t see it.
i didn’t say anything. just watched as they traveled beneath, preparing to drip onto the floor. stubbornly, they held on for quite a while before she swiped once more, the towel falling over the edge of the cutting board just enough to wipe away the escapees.
and i got to wondering.
what don’t we see? what goes on beneath? under? into the places where we don’t typically peer inside. what don’t we know is just below us, out of sight?
I quit my job.
I changed my Patreon exclusive prices.
I bought something nice for myself.
I’m looking for an easier job.
I’m listening to my body.
I’ve taken the pressure off myself when it comes to filming YouTube videos.
I got a book on letting go.
There are a lot of changes in my life, right now.
I had to quit my job because it was messing with my health. It was a really hard decision to make because there were so many good things about my job and work environment. Not to mention, I felt really ashamed quitting when I still had a job I could keep going to, when so many people had to stop working due to the quarantine.
But in the end, it was causing too much mental and physical health problems to force myself to keep it up. I’d known I needed to quit for almost four months, but I’d ignored it. Because I need a job. I’m an adult. That’s what adults do. They work. So I ignored how it was destroying my health.
Until I couldn’t anymore.
Literally couldn’t breathe.
I had to come to the realization that the pain wasn’t worth the money and societal approval.
So I quit my job. I’m looking for a new one. But, this time I’m going to be very careful what jobs I apply for.
Is there a lot of pressure? Will I have more things to do in one day than is actually humanly possible? Will the job cause me harm physically or emotionally? Is the employer someone I’m going to be comfortable being alone with? Is it a job where customers treating me like trash happens on a consistent basis? Is it something I know I really, really, don’t want to be doing? Will my off hours be respected? Will my personal boundaries be respected?
It’s the constant struggle to be realistic (as I have to be able to support myself) and healthy (enough to even continue functioning on a daily basis at all).
And the mad dash to convince myself to quit panicking over not having income.
I’m having trouble filming for my YouTube videos because I have nowhere to film except my extremely noisy apartment now. I’ve tried recording at night but that messes with my health, like crazy. Not to mention my eyes literally look pink when I stay up. Because I can’t just stay up and film at like, say 1 am. Oh no, my family isn’t all in bed until anywhere from around 1 am to 3 am. And I never know their sleep schedule, as they go to sleep once they finally feel sleepy.
So I decided I need to try to let go of the shame and guilt I have surrounding this issue. I feel like I should be working every day. But I can’t because there is noise above me, to the side of me, behind me, and in front of me. There’s never a quiet moment. Literally. Except at night. And even if my family does go to sleep, my neighbors are up and noisy (toddlers included) until well after midnight.
I want to doing ASMR way more often. It calms me. I enjoy it. I do it to create, to self sooth, and have fun, and to help others do the same.
Life seems to enjoy blocking me from doing things I enjoy. *angry growling*
But anywho. Now I’ll only be posting videos on Mondays. Until I could get soundproofing that ACTUALLY works in an apartment, we move apartments, or I find somewhere else to film.
Here’s my YouTube channel, by the way. (It’s real weird, I know. But I enjoy it. I think it makes sense for me. ASMR is basically trying to recreate soothing sounds with a microphone and props and doing things like having positive talks and relaxing videos.)
I changed my Patreon exclusives. I decided I wanted it to be cheaper for people to get access to my Patreon feed.
So now, if you want to get all the poems, photography, updates, polls, behind the scenes looks at YouTube and writing stuff, and anything else I end up throwing in there that isn’t anywhere else, it’s only $5 a month.
Here’s my Patreon, if you want to check out what I mean:
I’m trying to figure out how to let go of the things that are hurting me.
But more on that later. Because I’m overstimulated and exhausted and need to ACTUALLY take time to breathe. (Which I’m terrible at.)
How are you?