Stream of consciousness on writer’s block, depression and more

My posts here on WordPress are erratic. I either write furiously in one day, posting several times, or I don’t write anything for days.

I wonder why this is. Some days I feel compelled to post and, on other days, I don’t even log in.

It’s like I have spikes of motivation and inspiration. Sometimes I can write consistently for a few days in a row. Consistency is something I struggle with. It’s something pervasive in my life. It’s like I only do things when I feel like it.

I’ve been pushing myself to do more things, like cleaning and cooking. Some days, I can’t do almost anything. I think this is a sign of depression. Probably a sign that I’m getting better.

In the aftermath of my last psychotic episode, I have struggled with depression. Meds made feel numb and not really there. It takes time to adjust to them.

There have been many dark days, very unproductive days, when I felt useless. Stuck in an endless rut. Dormant and paranoid.

Weed didn’t help me at all. I only felt more numb and paranoid. I had no energy or will power. It was the only thing that made me go outside, the thing I thought about the most.

It’s very positive that I’m out of that cycle and, after five months, I can feel like I’m recovering.

If I cultivate discipline and consistency, it possible to acquire these skills. The brain is plastic and fluid. It’s only a matter of not doing only what I feel like doing. Getting used to to do mundane things and not just look for that dopamine spike that the internet, and other activities, give me.

I need to build on action to start doing more meaningful things such as projects and freelance work. Starting small is key and I have done it. Started by doing the dishes every night. Two days ago, I swept my entire house, mopped the kitchen floor and cooked lunch. Today, I cooked lunch, dinner, and did the dishes.

So, there’s been progress and it’s very gratifying to see that I’m moving forward.

Today is one of those days when optimism rules. I feel good and eager to do things.

I made myself write this post, even though it was not my intention to write. It’s important to write every day, even when we don’t feel like it. It’s crucial for evolving as a writer.

I see writer’s block as, not only not knowing what to write but also, not feeling like writing. If we try, there’s always the possibility of writing a post, doing a stream of consciousness, forcing yourself to write a poem.

If it’s not very inspired or beautiful, it’s alright. It can be a practice post, preparing us for better ones.

I want to have another blog, one where I don’t discuss my mental health condition. A blog that I can show everyone, even future employers, as proof that I am fluent in English.

I almost bare all in this blog. Never shared it on Facebook, just through messenger to some trustworthy people.

Being open about it to everyone takes a kind of courage that I don’t possess at the moment. The freedom of coming clean comes with great responsibility. I know how people can see me in a bad light for struggling with mental health. They can see me as being weak-minded and fragile.

The need to do meaningful things, in order to be accepted by society, is something that I long for. Doing it before I start doing mental health activism, seems like the best way to gain credibility.

Building a reputation of being active and productive is necessary for me to feel adequate in this society. It’s that pervasive shame that I feel since I was a child.

I’m sure that therapy will help me overcome it. Feeling like I’m achieving things will also help.

I hope you are all well and that you have a wonderful day.

Are you consistent and productive in your life? How do you deal with writer’s block?

Image by FrankWrinkler, courtesy of Pixabay.

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Night thoughts

It’s late. The first train has just passed. Still hiding like a thief in the night. It’s we are almost in the middle of the year and I’m still stuck here. Baby steps, they say. I’ve been doing more house work but that’s about it. It doesn’t seem much to the average person but it’s a victory for me. Persisting in something is a foreign concept to me. So it means a lot to continue doing house work.

I feel empty today. Like I’ve been engulfed by the void. Like I have nothing to give to the world. Like there is no hope to me.

I still hear people outside, out partying. I usefld to be one of them. Another face in the crowd. Now, I am a missing a person. Fading from the social world. Ready to be forgotten. Maybe that’s what I want. If I am forgotten, people won’t remember all the stupid things I’ve done.

I remember going to a party, a year ago, when I was still smoking. Paranoia and anxiety took over me. I saw familiar faces. Faces that I didn’t want to see. I panicked and went home. Defeated. Feeling sorry for myself. Scared. Afraid of having another panic attack.

Sometimes I wish I could leave this city. When I lived in another city, I felt free. Alone but free. Nobody knew who I was and that was refreshing. I had no past there, just present. I had no story. No history. A blank canvas.

Leaving is not answer. I would just be unhappy somewhere else, away from my roots. My people. My family. I need my family, they are so special. I need my people, the ones that cherish and appreciate me. The ones that make me feel “normal”. Like a regular person.

My past haunts me. I was unstable for so long. Made a fool of myself many times. Tried being friends with people that didn’t care for me. They didn’t get me. I am not easy to understand and relate to but now I am easy to get along with. It starts off effortlessly but I am quickly disappointed by most people. Sometimes it’s the ego, sometimes people are unstable. People that act like loose cannons terrify me. I am scared of being publicly embarrassed. I could not stand another humilliation. If someone persists in a behavior and I can’t do anything about it, I just quit. Leave that person’s life. I, too, have been someone that persisted in doing the wrong things. Mood swings would take over me and I just tried to cope. It almost didn’t matter who I hurt. I just wanted it to stop and be okay but I couldn’t reach that. I was looking for answers and I found them. I got my family back. That has healed me in some ways. I am still looking for answers now but from another stage. I fought so hard to be where I am and I am still so lost, so you can imagine how lost I was before. Out of control. How painful were those days. The madness, hospitalizations, psychosis, suicide attempts. How they made fearful. At least now, I can feel a bit better for not smoking weed. For not being at risk of a psychotic episode, at risk of having trouble with the police again. No remorse every day. That is comforting. But I want much more. I want my energy back, my spark, my independence. I’m not going anywhere without effort but I am so blocked. Like there is a colossal wall in front of me. I need to tear up this wall.

Does anyone else have a wall they want to destroy? Share your thoughts with me.

Image by Bess-Hamiti, courtesy of Pixabay.

Today

I am better today. I woke up in a good mood and I feel relaxed. It’s odd how we can feel the world is going to end in one day and feel much better in the next. A good night sleep can change your outlook on life. It doesn’t always work. If you are having a psychotic episode, you wake up in the same nightmare that you were in the day before.

I’m glad I haven’t had a psychotic episode in over 2 years. Medication really helps. It has changed a lot of things in my life. I don’t cry so easily, I’m more stable. My interpersonal relationships are better and also more stable. I don’t have mood swings. I can deal with my delusions now. They don’t overpower me. I don’t have anxiety anymore. A lot of things changed but other stayed the same and I’m not happy with it. But I’m not going to think about it a lot today. I’m going to enjoy the day. I can’t always be so critical of myself. Today will be a good day. Writing seems like a good plan. It’s a productive way of spending the day and it will keep me busy.

Image by 12019, courtesy of Pixabay.

When I was a victim of armed robbery

One afternoon, I was at home sleeping. I woke up startled by a noise from the living room.I was still half-asleep when I saw two men dressed as postmen in my living room, ordering me and my parents for money. They thought we had a safe. It was the biggest adrenaline rush I’ve ever had. One of them held a gun to my head. Then, the robbers took us to the bathroom and tried to lock us there which is impossible (the door is jammed). We stood there for a few minutes until we realized they were gone.

This triggered an acute stress reaction. Neighbors started coming to our house. To check up on us and talk about what happened. While I was sitting in my room struggling with suicidal thoughts. I was planning to kill myself. But then it hit me, those ideas weren’t mine, it was my condition talking. So I took a shower and cried and sang, to keep the suicidal thoughts away.

I started to think that my family wanted to hurt me since no one was helping me. So I ran to a shopping mall, barefoot, so I could call an ambulance. My calls to emergency services were ignored and my parents took me to a Hospital. I had two shots because of the anxiety and psychosis I was in.

This was the most extreme episode in my life. I developed PTSD because of it and I would say fear still affects me a lot. When you experience something like this, your perception shifts. Your imaginary illusion of safety is shattered. Things start to get real. It’s not just something that could happen, it DID happen.

This happened 8 years ago and I have healed a lot. I almost don’t have PTSD symptoms apart from irrational fears. This was very hard to write.

Image by USA-Reiseblogger, courtesy of Pixabay.

Wonderful Monday

Today I went outside. I felt like walking with a friend. I actually felt good walking, can you imagine? It was good, stretching my legs, toning my body. I felt excited and in a great mood.I stopped eating sugar and switched to agave. I don’t know if that is why I’m having more energy. I’m just happy to have some!

My friend and I went to a few shops: he bought a beanie and I bought myrrh incense. It’s my favorite scent right now.We walked to a Café with tables outside. The view was beautiful: we could see the river and Lisbon. Ferries on the river, taking people home or to work. I saw movement and life. People, things, animals. I felt like one of them. I sensed that that’s where I belong.

I’m going to try to leave the house every day. Tomorrow I have to because it’s my boyfriend’s day off (happiest day of the week!). I want to walk again and be outside. I know I can get used to it.

I’m not giving up until I have a fulfilling life. I have had a job, a house and an independent life, I managed it as well as I could and made it work. I know I can do it again.I just need a little more time to adjust.

Feeling excited and happy is like a breath of fresh air. Yesterday, I was feeling so down and numb. I couldn’t feel anything. Just when I wrote. Almost everything else was frustrating and boring. That’s also how I felt: frustrated and boring. I sometimes feel like I’m a boring person. I know my medication has an effect on my personality. At least, until you have been taking it for a while. I think because my psychotic episode was almost two years ago, I’m starting to feel more like myself. The one that was always cracking jokes and having fun, talking and laughing. That was me. Though one good thing that depression gave me was the ability to be quieter. Now, I listen more and talk less but the jokes are still there. That’s how I cope. Jokes, irony, and sarcasm.

Image by Pexels, courtesy of Pixabay.

The last 7 years

The last 7 years have been very hard. Healing and then becoming sick again. Having major depression, BPD, and psychosis. I can’t tell you how challenging psychosis is.
To be in nightmare-mode, to have a bad trip. Life talks to you, you see and hear things that don’t exist. Intrusive thoughts for months on end, voices. Beliefs that made no sense. It was a roller coaster. And I keep doing what makes me sick. There must be a switch in me, that is turned on for self-destruction. It’s horrible to think that if you didn’t take medication, you would probably kill yourself. This is the ugly truth. Fortunately, medication has helped me stay more positive and serene.
I’ve wasted these years. I made my parent’s life hell. I made my life pure hell. My impulsiveness was through the roof (and still is). I lost myself in those years. Lots of heavy medication. My will and flame were gone.
Losing weight, gaining weight. Losing friends and making friends. Meeting other people like me. I met people who understand, people that have been there. That has been so important to me.
Meeting myself again. Knowing my feelings and fears. Likes and dislikes. If you have BPD you know how hard it is to know yourself. How your self-image is unstable and fragile. But I have met myself. Years of isolation have taught me many things. How important it is to be alone and enjoy it; to self-analyze and evaluate yourself; to ask questions, look for answers and come to conclusions. To not depend on others to be happy. To have people in your life that are as good, or better, than your solitude. At least, now, here, I feel safe. That’s something I couldn’t say a few years ago. Things have changed for me and they will continue to change.

Image by MIH83, courtesy of Pixabay.

Night thoughts

It’s finally night time,the time when I feel better. I love the peace and quiet. I love the ambience, the wonder of a World engulfed by darkness. It’s like depression, the darkness. Like a thin veil of sadness. I believe depression likes the night, my depression turned me into a night owl. At night, there are no expectations, you can be yourself.

I haven’t felt lonely in a few days because of this blog, it’s helping me a lot. I’m waiting to read your comments, I would love to have some input. Writing allows me to rationalize things that are hard for me. It’s a struggle, I have to reason with myself to do things. Part of me doesn’t really want to do some things and this is a huge handicap. I want things to flow naturally and I’m a stagnated river. At least at the moment. I have flown. I was motion, I was life. I wonder if that spark ever comes back? I was highly motivated, loved the outdoors. Now it feels like torture to be outside. It feels like I’m a boat with an anchor in my house. It’s so unbelievably frustrating.

Friday night, lots of people are out. I used to be one of them but something changed. I became more fearful. My last psychotic episode was one of intense fear, intense paranoia. Even writing about is hard, it’s such a terrible and heartbreaking condition. I’ve been less paranoid. I ask my paranoias for facts to substantiate their claims. I have a mantra : “is there a logical explanation for that?”. Don’t let your brain condition fool you, keep your critical thinking on and please DON’T dwell on conspiracy theories. That’s one of the worst things you can do for your mental health. People should let go of things they can’t control.

Image by stux, courtesy of Pixabay.