i hate my dog more of a cat person you see. it's a horrible big dark thing that cloaks me from day to day. some days the cloak gets lighter, but recently it's almost suffocating me. so instead of trying to ignore it and all it's wonderful symptoms, the tears that i hide, the anger that i can't hide, the seeing things that aren't there ect ect i have had to grudgingly go back to my medication.
enter the side effects, blinding headache, wanting to vomit and dizzy spells which are oh so fun. it's also effecting my sleep in as much as i am not really getting much of it. good old restless leg syndrome is really kicking my arse at the moment. so at night my eyes are closed my body is screaming for rest and my legs and arms are having a party that the rest of me isn't invited to.
i hate it it's frustrating that i have things in the fridge that need to be cooked and probably won't be, so will go to waste. i can't stand up for more than a few moments without feeling like i want to throw up and or pass out. in the back of my mind i have a person with a clip board telling me i have to do this this and this and i havent done any of it at all. i have about another half a week of side effects before hopefully i start feeling ok. well not sick any more ok isn't something i am very good at feeling at the best of times. but as long as the brain deadness goes and i have some energy at the end of it that will do.
Wednesday 21 November 2012
Wednesday 14 November 2012
the blog that makes no sense
do you ever get the feeling that your swinging from the ceiling and your pants they are revealing and this blog it makes no sense. my mind i fear has left me bereft with a bowl of shreddies no milk the fridge is empty and this blog makes no sense. these random things are streaming from a mind that is revealing while some kittens are appealing and this blog just makes no sense.
it's not poetry or creative, a tad desperate in its narrative. there is no hidden meaning it's a blog post that makes no sense.
i think my mind has broken, it is oozing little tokens from the cracks that have just opened and this blog makes no more sense.
i think i may be ill, is it time to take a pill? before sanity takes a spill in a blog that makes no sense.
depressed not dead and no my names not fred maybe i should go to bed and pull the duvet over my head and forget the things i said in the blog that makes no sense.
it's not poetry or creative, a tad desperate in its narrative. there is no hidden meaning it's a blog post that makes no sense.
i think my mind has broken, it is oozing little tokens from the cracks that have just opened and this blog makes no more sense.
i think i may be ill, is it time to take a pill? before sanity takes a spill in a blog that makes no sense.
depressed not dead and no my names not fred maybe i should go to bed and pull the duvet over my head and forget the things i said in the blog that makes no sense.
Tuesday 6 November 2012
saying bum with a smile
Just a thought a very small thought as i have only ingested two cups of tea. I have been reading a lot of blogs quietly, thoughtfully sometimes i nod and agree, sometimes i pull a bit of a face or wipe a wet eye and wish people knew just how brave they were.
Anyway not sure what the point of this post is, but yesterday i had a good day. It was productive, things got done i ventured out and didn't have a spaz about it and the sun was out.
Now having a good day could be seen to some as just a good day, a reason to smile. When you suffer from any form of a mental illness a good day is like skipping bare foot through a field of poppies and not worrying about cow pats or hayfever. It's like climbing a mountain naked and standing at the top wiggling your lumpy bits and shouting to the world " Up your bum world today is a good day."
When your life is a revolving door of angst and emotions hit you like a tsunami and everything is raw good days are worth celebrating.
It doesn't mean your cured, it just means you had some breathing space. It doesn't mean that maybe your not ill maybe your faking it, your not.
So don't over think them, try and enjoy them for what they are. They are your little triumphs to be enjoyed. As they say a pat on the back is better than a smack round the head, well they don't i just did.
I don't do life affirming stuff but wouldn't it be fun just to stand in front of a mirror not to pull yourself a part and just say bum with a smile. You never know it might work.
and thus the pants have spoken
Anyway not sure what the point of this post is, but yesterday i had a good day. It was productive, things got done i ventured out and didn't have a spaz about it and the sun was out.
Now having a good day could be seen to some as just a good day, a reason to smile. When you suffer from any form of a mental illness a good day is like skipping bare foot through a field of poppies and not worrying about cow pats or hayfever. It's like climbing a mountain naked and standing at the top wiggling your lumpy bits and shouting to the world " Up your bum world today is a good day."
When your life is a revolving door of angst and emotions hit you like a tsunami and everything is raw good days are worth celebrating.
It doesn't mean your cured, it just means you had some breathing space. It doesn't mean that maybe your not ill maybe your faking it, your not.
So don't over think them, try and enjoy them for what they are. They are your little triumphs to be enjoyed. As they say a pat on the back is better than a smack round the head, well they don't i just did.
I don't do life affirming stuff but wouldn't it be fun just to stand in front of a mirror not to pull yourself a part and just say bum with a smile. You never know it might work.
and thus the pants have spoken
Thursday 1 November 2012
feeling guilty
i am feeling a little out of sorts. Tonight i have seen entries in two different blogs that have prompted my brain to turn in on itself and ask the question
Why can some people write so eloquently about how they feel in an honest fashion where as i have to put a little hint of oh well life's not so bad on my things ?
I can drop little hints now and again, but then a voice inside coughs and says quietly " Don't harp on dear. No one wants to hear it."
So then we are back to cat poo. Cat poo is fast becoming a safety word. If things seem a little bit too uncomfortable CAT POO . I need to say how i am actually feeling CAT POO. i am about to be too honest about things CAT POO.
bloody cat poo.
truth is i haven't left the house since monday's journey from hell, where the only way i could stop a full blown no holds barred panic attack was to scratch three layers of skin from my left hand. The closest i have come to venturing out is standing at the backdoor. But i have to go out tomorrow and it's weighing heavy on my mind.
I don't like being me. I don't like what i have become and if i could turn back to clock to even as little as two years ago i would in a heart beat.
i see things moving dark shapes that i know aren't there. They don't scare me what does is that fact that seeing things that aren't there doesn't scare me.
no body knows this, i am a master in hiding things from everyone. They just think i am extra grumpy and snappy.
anyway like the little voice inside my head says ( or rather screams in this case ) you don't need to know this. there are so many more people who are a lot worse than i am.
CAT POO. CAT POO. CAT POO.
Why can some people write so eloquently about how they feel in an honest fashion where as i have to put a little hint of oh well life's not so bad on my things ?
I can drop little hints now and again, but then a voice inside coughs and says quietly " Don't harp on dear. No one wants to hear it."
So then we are back to cat poo. Cat poo is fast becoming a safety word. If things seem a little bit too uncomfortable CAT POO . I need to say how i am actually feeling CAT POO. i am about to be too honest about things CAT POO.
bloody cat poo.
truth is i haven't left the house since monday's journey from hell, where the only way i could stop a full blown no holds barred panic attack was to scratch three layers of skin from my left hand. The closest i have come to venturing out is standing at the backdoor. But i have to go out tomorrow and it's weighing heavy on my mind.
I don't like being me. I don't like what i have become and if i could turn back to clock to even as little as two years ago i would in a heart beat.
i see things moving dark shapes that i know aren't there. They don't scare me what does is that fact that seeing things that aren't there doesn't scare me.
no body knows this, i am a master in hiding things from everyone. They just think i am extra grumpy and snappy.
anyway like the little voice inside my head says ( or rather screams in this case ) you don't need to know this. there are so many more people who are a lot worse than i am.
CAT POO. CAT POO. CAT POO.
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