I wish I wasn't so screwed up. But it is what it is.

I woke up this morning, on 6 hours of sleep (not nearly enough), yet when I looked into the mirror my eyes were shining bright. And by the end of the day, I'm ten miles back. My eyes are dull.

I was with Lisa today, running errands with her and the monster. And gods above was he living up to his name. But the day was good. The exit we pulled off from pulls up literally across from where Frank works. And I forgot to say where Steve used to work, though it was back behind it. Hush hush secret stuff lol. I told her he was still there because I genuinely forgot. It's not even something I technically should know. But I do. Whoops.

But on the way back into the highway...I felt the beginnings of falling apart. Sometimes there's a stabby feeling when I think of him. Literal and figurative.

Then I snapped back for a little bit. Lisa and I watched more Dr Who. It took maybe a minute of driving before my thin veneer of "okay" was stripped away. I stared at the concrete wall on a bridge over a river and thought "It's there so I don't drive my car into it." Because in that moment I wanted to. I wanted to crash into every car and truck that got near me, but I knew we weren't going fast enough for it to kill me.

And I thought about inpatient therapy. I thought about running. Running and running and running. Driving as far as I could to get away. But I can't run from the demons in my mind.

I felt myself slipping, like my mind was on a slide. Descending onto that cusp of aware and disassocation.

For some reason, my scars that most doctors think landed me in the ER for a psych eval were prominent today. My therapist knows though.

If you're worried that I'm going off the deep end, well...i didn't write for a year because I was. I'm talking about it. Far less concerning, I promise.

And I'm happy I got to myself smile and my eyes alight this morning. It's something I haven't seen in a very long time. But those moments are always fleeting. It makes the crash back to my reality all the more harsh and cruel.

What is the self?

I wonder if this is me. They claim meds don't change who you are. I would politely disagree. Tomorrow I start a new antidepressant. Effexor. Actually the generic but you get what I mean. So it has me thinking. The practically pleasant text conversation with my guardian mother this evening has me thinking as well but that's for another time.

Klonopin changed a lot for me. About me. Anxiety kept me honed but also drained. Eventually it would wear me down, depression would settle in deeply, and at some point I'd find my way out. Rinse, recycle, repeat.

That's not the case on klonopin. The anxiety never burns itself out. There's the low level humming in the background constantly. Sometimes it surges, only to be pushed back down. I feel like a bottle of soda that's getting shaken up, constantly has that natural bubbles, yet no pressure relief.

Add in more antidepressants than I'd ever thought I'd be willing to try and I don't know if this is really me. Compile that with the other meds I take that reduce pain but keep me sluggish mentally...and who the hell is this person.

Maybe an evolution of what should have always been. Maybe my illnesses slowing me down, the physical ones. Maybe breaking so hard and being in the worst depression of my life altered me drastically enough that I don't know what to make of anything.

This is where my brain says the answer is all of the above. If everything seems possible, then d. all of the above is correct. At least I get to use those test taking skills for something, heh.

I honestly don't know if I'm supposed to be this person I am now or who I was prior to meds. I have no idea if the meds saved my life. I'm still depressed. I'm still suicidal. And I can't say for sure if the meds or therapy moved those to the background or if this is a normal cycle.

Having been depressed and wanting to die since 7 years old, cycles are something I know. And that me feels far more authentic than this one. I have all my old journals from back then and I can say with certainty that 13 year old me, even depressed as heck, had a better perspective than I do now.

I understood myself then, as much as possible. I have no clue now.

Curiosity broke my heart

I'm my own worst enemy. It's not the same. He was so different and it was 10 years ago. Or will be in a matter of weeks. My heart broke when he married her a few years ago. And silly me, fb shows people you might know, and I had to look.

Curiosity and all that. He's no longer with her. I can't see all of it obviously. But she no longer has his name and is dating someone else.

There's this tightness in my chest. A hole in my heart that's bleeding. Steve may have seen into my mind, but he...well he saw into my heart. Broken in very different ways by the two people I allowed myself to be truly free around.

And stupid heart, I want to talk to him. Offer comfort. But I can't. I won't. Because I'd be foolish enough to love him again. Damn them both.

Damn me more.