I've conjured up a plethora of different euphemisms for things while my mind was in disarray.
My uncle used to tell me,
'Left is right and right is wrong.'
This made me overthink. If left is right and right is wrong, that meant both sides were incorrect. At least, that's how I viewed it.
I was under the impression I was falling victim to the dark side while I was going through my last episode of mania- maybe I was.
Now I'm right-handed, but I can sketch and play golf with my left sometimes. That's called being ambidextrous- nothing fancy.
I refused for a period of time to even try and draw or sketch. In my mind, it wasn't me who was doing these things. I let the whole right side of me go numb in an attempt to combat the dark side.
Yes, I am referencing Star Wars.
I had to write up my own ending to the Rise of Skywalker, fearing that while I watched it with my aunt while I was rehabilitating myself, something tragic would happen to my boyfriend, like it did Ben Solo.
Previously, I didn't care much that he lived on in Rey, which rendered her able to defeat Palpatine. For some reason I had to put in the notes on my phone that Palpatine was actually gone and that he wasn't coming back- some fear.
I couldn't go on knowing that there was a possibility that my poor, helpless boyfriend was out in the wild, working, going back to our home without me, while I sat back, treated like a child. I had to write a new ending.
Of course it was deleted. What is the world to do with the ramblings of a crazy woman?
Fortunately, I came up with a new euphemism.
'Left is right and right is wrong, but I knew all along.'
+++++
I can tell you I'm not crazy all I want. I don't believe I am. I may have done or said some crazy things while I was going through my old drug withdrawals, but I can tell you that I remember every part of it all.
The only thing I can't remember is the first couple of days I spent in the mental hospital. I was afraid to go to sleep. I didn't want the dark side to win, I didn't want to wake up older, I especially didn't want to fall into a coma and have my life changed.
But I still managed to sleep.
The beds were like rocks and I'd never felt more drained in my life. I felt like, even though it wasn't, my life had been taken from me. This was a new beginning, but I couldn't even sign my name on some papers the hospital gave me without being unable to recognize my own penmanship.
It was tough, it still is.
Sometimes I write my ABC's out, just to practice my handwriting again. I still can't comprehend how a bit over a week in the hospital was able to take that from me.
I miss drawing, but I mostly miss my focus.
I was under the impression, my first couple weeks back, I lacked confidence. That still could be the case. I still can't find my voice enough to sing songs I used to love to sing.
The sith would say I have a lot of fear in me, which is true. I'm afraid of going backwards again.
It helps to admit that.
+++++
Now I listen to music. I'm afraid to actually like any of the music I listen to, though. That supposedly sent me backwards before- annotating the lyrics, finding out what the artist meant when they sang it- it was beginning to feel like the old artists that passed were still with me, having something and so on to say.
I still believe in that magic.
+++++
I limit myself now. I can't stay up too late, have too much caffeine, drink too much coffee.
Before, I could drink a whole pot of coffee to myself and feel nothing. Now my hands shake more than they did before. The key is that balance I like to talk about- I drink more water.
You can say I just learned the hard way how to better take care of myself.
Before this, I thought I did a good job in doing so. My doctors would say differently, how else could I of gotten here in the first place?
When my mind first started to go, I remember staring at a night light near my aunt's bedside, just so I could attempt to fix my vision. I did my right eye first, which twitched and teared up more than the left. I, for some reason, was under the impression me doing this would fix anyone's vision. And that my right eye saw only the bad in the world.
I thought there were small people in my head placing bets on my next move. I thought the last of the martians I wrote about in other books were finally here to take whatever was left of me over. I didn't want them to win, thought there are still some parts of me that wish they did.
I don't like that I woke up and can no longer live the same life as before. I feel lonelier, more tired, with less of a drive; like an old, beaten-down car.
I know it's supposed to get better, somewhere at some time- I just can't tell you when that is. I'm still waiting myself.
