Every Tuesday night, time negotiable, my best friend/sister/heterosexual lifemate Jamie and I partake in something we have dubbed “Writing Babies,” or #WritingBabies, for those who see this annoying hashtag and photos of our laptops in various locations on social media. It started back when I lived in Austin and the both of us fancying ourselves wordsmiths, would take our computers to either a coffee shop or a local bar and we’d write. That’s it. Just write. It grew to be a favorite thing we did and there’s something about sitting quietly with someone you love, enjoying each others company, and doing something we both like to do. I adore it when I can make similar connections with people, my other favorite is listening to music, and I’m fortunate to have someone to do that with, as well.
Anyway, Jamie’s still in Texas and I am not, and after a three year hiatus, she suggested we start this up again and I wholeheartedly agreed, so here we are. Even though we’re 15 hours and 900 miles away, for an hour every week, it feels like we’re together and if that isn’t the sweetest goddamn thing, I don’t know what is.
I’ve been thinking about what I wanted to write about all day, and wouldntcha know it, when it comes down to the time to open up the Dell and peck away at the keyboard, my mind goes blank. Twenty-three hours a goddamn day, my mind is a flurry of activity when I desperately want it to chill out for a few hours and give me peace, but my brain decides the optimal time to freeze up is when I needed it to be sharp. Sonuvabitch. It doesn’t help that I’m also watching Westworld because I wanted to see what all the fuss was about, and so far I have this to say: robots? In the Old West? And Sir Anthony Hopkins? I don’t hate it yet, but my judgement of movies/shows isn’t to be trusted.
So, I guess I’ll just prattle on about random shit then. I’m good at that.
I stopped taking my mood stabilizer because a) I didn’t see the need for it anymore given my recent mental assessment suggesting I am not bipolar or its type 2 cousin, b) I’m forgetful with pills after a while and after my third day of forgetting, I just decided to eff it and see what happened. For the most part, it wasn’t that helpful of a medication to me anyway and I wasn’t noticing a huge improvement in regards to my mood.
OR SO I THOUGHT.
I’ve been off lamictal for almost two weeks and the last two days have been kinda shitty in the mood department. Yesterday was, in a word, shitty. The ol’ familiar sting of irritability and anger ebbed and flowed all day. It was great. I loved it. Today was better mood-wise a little bit, but I’ve discovered I’m stupid? That was rude of me to say about myself. Let me rephrase that: my brain is not cooperating with me, as I mentioned a few paragraphs ago. Quite a few times during the day, I’d be thinking of something and then poof, gone. I can’t remember what I was going to write about. There are other examples, but I…can’t…remember…them… Either this medication/depression/anxiety in general fuck with your memory, or I have early onset dementia, which really, at this point in the game, I wouldn’t be surprised by anything.
It’s upsetting, if I may be honest. It seems to be getting worse, too, which is great fun. I’ve always been a little bit of a ditz, but the frequency of me doing something and then forgetting what I was going to do next is increasing. I’ve brought this up to the several healthcare providers who have seen me over the last few months and all seem to think it is my mental illness being a dick, not anything overly concerning, so I guess I’ll relax. It’s still annoying, though. It’s hard to concentrate when you lose the reason why you’re concentrating.
I don’t know what I’m going to do about continuing medications. Given my poor history with consistency and forgetting to take pills, plus the whole “hey, ingest something into your body that fucks up your brain chemistry” thing is a bit off-putting at times. We’ll see, I guess. Therapist has been trying to work with me in regards to “mindful thinking,” since I do think so goddamn much, might as well make sense of what I spend so much time pondering.
It’s pretty simple, really. My biggest hurdle is never allowing myself to feel an emotion, namely anger or sadness. Lately, whenever I’ve been faced with these particular feelers, I am to stop and acknowledge the emotion (Cool. I’m pissed off). Next step is to identify why I’m having this emotion (Cool. I’m pissed off because of xyz). Then, I’m to allow myself to experience this emotion, no questions asked or trying to talk myself out of feeling the way I do (Cool. I’m pissed off because of xyz, and having this reaction is perfectly fine and normal and just roll with it, baby).
Surprisingly, it’s been useful so far. I know right? Weird!
I like therapy. I like Therapist. I hope I can keep building on things to reach the ultimate goal of being more expressive of myself. Can you even believe that’s my goal? To speak? My god!
That’s all I have for now since I can’t seem to focus any more.
Thank you all kindly for reading.