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Forever Waiting

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Forever Waiting


I haven’t been keeping up with blogging lately — even though I have all the time in the world right now. I always seem to have time but the desire I used to have for writing, even journaling, just hasn’t been there since June… since my life fell apart again. My life is always falling apart, though. This is nothing new.

I’m started yet another psych med maybe two weeks ago. Abilify. I guess you can say it’s a new medication, although, I have been on it in the past. Close to maybe 10 years ago. All I remember about this med was that it made me manic, and I’m definitely not having that reaction this time. I’m on a low dose; just 2 mg. I am pretty sure my doctor will have to increase it for me.

I haven’t had any real side effects from it… yet. I have a bad track record with antipsychotics. The last three they tried me on were all horrible. They worked well, but they would cause my legs to become painful and swollen. I always seem to get the craziest side effects from medication to the point where it makes me want to stop taking all my meds and start fresh. The only issue is that I don’t trust myself to be unmedicated and I refuse to do yet another inpatient stay in a psychiatric unit to try to figure my meds out yet again.

I’ve been up, down, and everything in between lately. I’ll take the mania over the depression any day. But I feel like no matter how much I try, being bipolar never gets any easier for me.

I feel like I’m forever waiting for something to happen, something good. But it never does. It makes holding on to something, anything, that much more challenging. Why not give up, right?

I feel alone and incredibly lonely. As much as I used to complain about shit, I miss my old life. I miss my apartment. I miss my ex. I miss sleeping in my own bed. I’m sick of doing all this shit and holding everything inside. I’m lonely but want to be left alone most days. Does that even make any sense?

Nights are the hardest for me. It’s when I’m trapped inside my head the most. Almost like I’m going through a maze blindfolded and can’t seem to find my way out. Time should heal wounds, right? Why does it seem to be the opposite for me in some situations? Sometimes it feels like time is my worst enemy.

Things that used to make me happy no longer seem to bring me joy. I don’t know what to do anymore. About anything. Most days I can’t even tell you what I do on a day to day basis. Everything passes me by in such a haze. This isn’t a good way to live. 😭

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