Bigger

Bigger

This song is by Sugarland and I have to say, it speaks to me. Not in a psychotic way like some music can do, but the lyrics touch me because it is hopeful and I feel like Jennifer Nettles, who I adore, is speaking directly to me as she sings it. (I know that isn’t it but you kind of feel it with the tone of voice she uses.) It is a beautiful song and as my last few days have been rocky and filled with suicide, it is slowly sifting in my brain that maybe I can put off my plan a little longer.

I emailed my psychiatrist as I have had another day where my mood is a fricken rollercoaster. I have felt slightly above normal (not really euphoric) and then crash. Last night I swear I was having mixed states as the perturbation was so bad I couldn’t sleep. I was so on edge. But I woke up depressed but not so much that I stayed in bed like I wanted. I forced myself to catch the bus. I didn’t change out of my PJs. They could pass as sweatpants so I just went out with them. Fuck it, people go out in the PJs all the time, why should I be different? I did the few errands and had the intent of making zucchini pie today.

I was exhausted when I came home. The fluidity that I was able to walk with yesterday was gone. Every step was painful and slow as molasses. Not sure if that was due to pain or depression. I just felt like I was going uphill with every step I took, even on level ground. I saw my mother had taken out some meat for dinner. I was grateful I didn’t have to cook. I will make the zucchini pie tomorrow after I go to the pharmacy to get my breakthrough med as there doesn’t seem to be one close to me. I called the one I go to all the time and they are out of stock and think it might come in Friday. That is just unacceptable. I’d go tonight if I had a car, though I might get lost as I am not too sure of the way. I know the bus route so will take it tomorrow. I hate going there two days in a row but I need my meds and I really don’t want to wait till Thursday when I see my PT.

One of the suicidologists on Twitter liked my blog that I wrote yesterday or rather this morning. I was kind of in the mixed state so was hyper/depressed and needed to write. It was nearly 1700 words. She asked my permission to use a section of it for her class that she teaches. I said sure as long as you credit Midnight Demon. That was all I ask. Give credit where credit is due. I haven’t read what I wrote. I usually just write and then publish. Then someone comments and I wonder what the fuck did I write. Happens all the damn time, even in my journal writing. There was a time where I was in the hospital for a lengthy stay. I wrote in notebooks (didn’t have fancy journals like I do now) and I went back to read what I wrote. My handwriting changed so many times I thought it was a different person writing. The think that always struck me, even to this day, my feelings always stayed the same. It was just a different day. Talk about feeling hopeless. I literally had proof that I was a severely depressed hopeless person.

any thoughts?

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