The Rant of June 19th.

*Preface–I found this little free write gem while I was cleaning out my computer files. While I don’t feel completely the same currently, the emotion is gloriously honest. Welcome, everyone, to the depression phase of my life.*

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The fact of the matter is that days like this suck. And I’m not talking about the regular, teenage version of the word. I’m talking about the full blown suck the life right out of you, can barely breathe kind of suck. And what is there to look forward to when you live your life like that? So I’m not supposed to be a victim, I’m supposed to be a victor or a warrior or a heroine. And you know what, for about point five of a second, I feel like I could do that if the situation arose but then I go back to being the me that I am literally every single day and gods that sucks. I mean, what is there that’s so freaking special about me anyway?

I felt like I was supposed to be born a different person, or at a time when I would have fit in and then I look at that long and hard and realize I would have never fit in anywhere. I mean honestly, am I that big of a freak that I literally have no place in the time space continuum that I can find some damn comradery? So here I am doing this free write, like it’s going to provide me with this epic insight into where I went wrong, or like it will magically strip me of all the negativity that I’ve built up-like a good teeth cleaning. But truth be told, I actually feel nothing. I mean literally nothing. I’m not upset, I’m not happy, but I know that I should feel something and that fact kinda bothers me. Either way, here I am and truly, I can only stop and notice that once upon a time I wished really hard that I would be special, that I would have something that would set me apart from the rest of the world. Little did I know. Honestly, I would probably go back in time to that me and punch her in the freaking nose. Stupid little shit.

But here I am, the girl who can fake a smile better than anybody and still feel like a fecking loser. What I don’t understand is how all these famous people I read about, like Robin Williams or Van Gogh actually found their muse. I mean I know that I don’t suck at everything-statistically that’s impossible- but I can’t seem to find the thing that I suck at less than everyone else. I tried painting, and singing and that was fine and well but really, I’m only good at those things if I sit and stare at a picture for hours, reworking it a million times or if people have nothing else to listen to. And then there’s writing and let me tell you something about that. I wrote a novel, some 75 thousand words and not one agent said “hey that’s pretty good, let me look at it further”. In fact they all said “that’s a good idea” but then followed with “but I’m not looking for it”. So which is it? Is it a good idea or is it a bad one? Because if it was good, you’d get it and make money. If not, then you lied.

So here I am an academic artist without a medium and I’m supposed to not be a victim. What does that even mean? I keep looking up “not a victim” quotes on Pinterest and such but all I get are those flaky shit things that are like “life is gonna be rainbows eventually”. That’s complete and total bullshit. But I hope somebody actually feels better when they read it. I just know that I don’t. I need meaning. I need honest, gritty, shitty truth. And this society is just full of shit. I don’t mean the people necessarily, I mean the crap we put on TV and the way that everything seems so damn fake and superficial. There used to be a bigger meaning, but now it’s all entitled bullshit.

But regardless, I think the therapy sessions I had been going to were helpful. I don’t necessarily feel like I’m a different person, but at least I found someone who was willing to listen to me without judgement or expectation of anything in return. That is the one thing I have going for me. I guess you could argue that I also have my husband going for me, and while that is true, it isn’t as though he’s there 100% of the time, after all he has his own life and his own independence. I’m saying that he’s my rock, and I have no other but sometimes I need to just get lost in the ocean for a while. I hate that I feel so adrift. I mean, is that normal? Is that the way every average 22 year old feels? Am I actually deluding myself into thinking that I’m extraordinary when in actuality I’m completely average? God that would be a fecking waste. I think that would be my breaking point.

And with that thought in mind, I decided I was going to get a medical ID bracelet. I know that that means that I need to get an updated diagnosis, and that I cannot go back once I decide to dawn that piece of metal. Is it like my superhero cape? Shit, that’s my life isn’t it? I’m not actually a superhero, I’m a mentally ill psycho with a damn piece of metal that says “CRAZY”. Great. But it could always be worse right? I mean I could be pregnant and into hard drugs and dropped out of college with all those student loans and then be crazy on top of that. Puts it into a kind of perspective I suppose.

Good talk team.

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5 thoughts on “The Rant of June 19th.

  1. I go to therapy a couple times a week, and I do find that objective person valuable to me in the sense that I can just unload on her, and she has to take it. But, she talks a lot about (and I hate her analogy, but whatever) sunflowers and weeds. The weeds are the negative things we tell ourselves. Can’t write, can’t draw, can’t have a normal relationship, etc. The weeds grow fast and need very little tending to run out of control. The sunflowers are the things that are good about ourselves. An ability to love, an ability to organize, etc. The sunflowers need more care than the weeds. They have to be tended in order to grow.

    I wrote two posts a little while ago – one was “I wish” which was everything I wished was different about myself (the weeds) and one that was for gratitude (the sunflowers). It’s not easy and it’s not rainbows and sunshine and I have a hard time seeing the sunflowers through the weeds a lot of the time, but it’s worth a shot.

    1. I’ve heard similar things in the past, which I reacted to pretty similarly. The woman I was seeing before I moved was wonderful-the best one I’ve ever met. I think you’re absolutely right though, there are times when I feel like I’m all sunflowers (according to the metaphor) and then I know inevitably I will snuff all those out and become a weeded bed of sulky bitterness. But these free writes were a suggestion, and since I feel like “someone” needs to know how bipolar disorder looks in its unabridged, un-hollywoodized form, I decided to pop them up here.
      I’ll go check out those post (in a non-creepy way). Sometimes the only way you see flowers is through the eyes of someone else.

      1. Venting all of this out is a wonderful idea. I used to journal, but I can’t write fast enough to keep up with my brain, so I started the blog. Some entries are well thought out “educational” type pieces, but others are straight up nasty how-I’m-feeling-right-now-messes.

      2. I completely understand. But I think there is equal value in the emotional messes. I mean, we are human after all, and if honest, raw emotion is stigmatized, we’re doing something wrong.

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