|Make It Happen
|These new medicines are slowly worming their way into my bloodstream. It is like a pharmacological tide, rising and falling, and my sense of well being with it. It might be weeks until it reaches its appropriate level. That's ok, just let it keep slowly improving.|
I stayed up late last night talking to my mom about this ordeal. She is a nurse, so she has a better realistic opinion on medical matters, and it's comforting to have her tell me to knock it off when I get too worked up for no reason. In the conversation last night when I was spouting out psychobabble and complaints about my physical feelings, she said "Why don't you write it all down?"
I told her I already do. I'm not sure if should could handle reading it though. She knows I am hurting, and she knows I am having a really hard time, but I don't know if any parent should ever get that deep into their child's mind. Privacy issues aside, that would just hurt way too much to hear in graphic detail the way they are suffering. I don't mind other people reading what I have to say, because I want to help people understand what I am going through, and what a lot of other people are going through; people who don't write, people who don't have an outlet. There is such a misunderstanding and lack of compassion and care for people struggling with mental health issues. So if I can ever write anything that makes somebody feel a little bit better, or a slightly less alone, then I am satisfied.
That being said, I'm really considering going through my old paper notebooks, old blogs, and the things I have written currently and condensing all of them. I haven't opened those old books in a long, long time, and I'm afraid of what emotions might come off of those pages. There are a lot of people and events I have tried to push out of my mind, for one reason for another. Maybe living those moments again would be a good thing. We'll just have to wait and see.
I finished my two hardest finals today, and that is a good feeling. Almost done with this joke of a semester. Then it will be time for myself. Joe time. I am going to heal, somehow. I am going to make things so much better.
I've put so much faith in you. Please, don't let me down. Either way, I'm going to feel like an idiot. I just hope I can feel that way with a smile on my face. If not, that's alright as well, and I wish you the best.
|Tags: journal, late night converstion, medication, help, mental, confused, i'm an idiot