Decisions part 2 

It’s decided. I am taking time off so I can get the treatment I need and the peace of mind I deserve. It’s hard…it was a hard decision, but I need to give myself credit for being brave and going through this process without having panic attacks. 

I am currently feeling tired. The medication induced exhaustion. Headaches, feeling faint, lightheaded. I am still waiting for my body to adjust to the increased dose of antidepressant and mood stabiliser. 

I managed to reduce the amount of sleep medication. Reading before bed helps me a lot. It feels great to have time to read again. I need this. I also made the sketch for a painting I am going to complete tomorrow, and I also want to improve my digital drawing skills. 

The job situation is still not okay, and I don’t know feel like I am able to tackle job applications and CV’s right now. I need some time…The way I lost my job made me get a lot of anxiety about jobs and employers in general. It also made me doubt myself and my skills. What am I supposed to say in the “I consider myself having a disability” box? Yes? No? Revealing my Bipolar diagnostic made me vulnerable. It got me fired. I need to work on this for a while, to get over it. 

Maybe I am over-sensitive, but this experience was traumatic for me. It triggered a serious depressive episode from which I am still recovering. It made me give up on travelling to a beautiful city beacuse of complete exhaustion to the point of getting catatonic…

I am still here, I am still breathing, I am alive, I will recover.

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Climbing

I’m in here. I am struggling to climb the high walls Depression puts around me. She puts walls around me and around my soul. Thick, masonry and concrete walls. No windows. No sunshine coming in. Just me and the beat of my heart.

The fire in my soul is still burning, still alive. I am not completely in the dark. Sometimes the 1000 abusive voices want to tell me that my soul has died, thus I have died, or I should die, but I can feel that fire, that warmth, that rhythm. I am alive. I am still alive.

I am touching the surface of the walls in the dark. Some of bricks are chipped. Maybe the prisoner before tried to smash the walls, the same way I tried so many times. But wait…this is my cell, I think Depression puts each one of her prisoners in different cells. Yes! This is how I remember it is, she keeps us isolated so she can control us better.

Does that mean that the chipped and crumbled bricks are the fruit of my struggle to demolish this prison? I think that’s the only explanation.

I can use them! As a “ladder”. A climbing wall. I can get out of this. I’m going to grip the little niches in the bricks. I am going to dig my fingernails into them and make an effort to drag myself out of this hole. I am going to do it until my fingers and hands get bloody. I am going to make it, I am going to make it!