Update 769.0

I relapsed. Mentally, I mean.

I guess that explains my long absence from writing.

I crashed, fell and came full frontal-face planting into “reality” so I did what I do best and hid away from everything.

The year started good, at least I think it did? My mental health has a great way of coming out of stealth mode when I least expect it. Yet, I crashed. I apologise to myself for not running to my blog when things got scary. I just couldn’t anymore. I couldn’t do anything.

I’ve taken myself off social media. I’m sorry to anyone who cares about me for my sudden vanishing act but you see, it was either that went or I did and I have too much to lose out here.

 

I’m tired but I faught it again. Now I just have to rebuild the pieces once again and try to rebuild whatever fucked up life I had before.

But, for now. I am back and I’ll try to be here more.

Thank you* for being patient with me.

 

 

*whoever *you* are – thank you for reading. Things are about to be wonderful.

 

 

 

Trapped in my own prison..

It’s been 437 days. 437 days since I locked myself away in a jail sentence that has no definitive time limit. The key is a metaphorical journey that I am not prepared or knowledgeable to take. The prison is my home and my mind. I cannot break free. The only solace I am greeted with is the people that never give up. My loved ones, friends that haven’t left yet and my own sanity that is just hanging on by a thread.

My bipolar has stepped up a notch this past month and I find myself becoming more angry as the days go on. Why me? Why did you have to inbed yourself into my once ever flowing pool of confidence and ambition. I’m waiting. I’m waiting and preparing to battle for my freedom. I will break free. All I need is time.

Dear depression..

We’re like old friends. We go way back. I remember the first time we met. I was 6 years old and we’d just lost my baby brother. You were there. Telling me it was my fault. We met again at 16. You told me you were my only friend and you were the only one who loved me. You told me I’d be better off dead, away from everyone who would hurt me. You told me to kill myself.. then I tried and failed and you told me I was worthless and a failure. You told me I was a losing battle. You told me I’d never win. You’d cover my mouth and bully me down. You made my my race but force me to lay still. With every smile I had, you’d rear your ugly head and I knew better than to carry on smiling. You were consistent in my life for the next 10 years. Kicking, pulling me, dragging me and controlling me like a persistent boyfriend who is poison to me. No. No! You cannot have me no more. You depression, are my childhood friend. You pretend to have the answers. But you got me sick, you put me on suicide watch. You hurt my family. You told me to dive the knife straight through. No. You cannot have me no more. I am not my past. I am worthy. I forgive myself for my mistakes. For believing you. I am letting you go. I will not give up. You will not silence me. Until my last, genuine breath. I will fight. Dear depression, it’s over. Get your stuff and leave. 

Signed, 

I’m worthy.