Thursday, July 5, 2012
I was thinking about the past few months this morning because out of nowhere, I'm feeling very emotional today. I'm on the verge of tears for seemingly no reason. I thought, I've had a few good months. Maybe I'm out of the woods. MAYBE I'M CURED! Then I looked at the calendar and saw it has only been 4 1/2 weeks since I swallowed my last bit of psycho-medication. Fuck.
4 1/2 weeks. I thought it had been months. Obviously I have no sense of time. I have no sense of anything.
Do you know what I do anymore? Nothing. Absolutely zilch. It's fucking sad.
I work during the week, but prior to my workday I contemplate, "Can I go another day without washing my hair? Are my legs that bad? Must I shave?" Because the process of washing, drying and straightening my hair is agony. And? It ends up in a ponytail within hours of completing the process. Why did I grow out my fabulous short "do" again?
On the weekend I force myself to grocery shop. I'd rather get a wisdom tooth pulled then tackle this weekly task. After that? I sit. I watch tv. I read. I play around on my phone.
My kids are foreign to me. I don't know how to spend time with them.
I cook dinner on the daily but only because eating is a requirement. Nourishment and all that shit. Yada, yada.
My ability to be social is null. I. DON'T. KNOW. HOW.
When I swallowed my last pill, everything within me that made me human was swallowed with it. I don't regret it though. The side-effects of the pills I was taking was unbearable. But so is being antisocial. Fuck.
I've talked to people who have said the same thing happens to them when they don't take their meds. I've never personally experienced it before.
I know I can't go on this way but I lack the motivation to make any changes. I'm THAT person who complains and yet, does nothing.