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This winter I appear to be bouncing back and forth between sane/numb erika and crazy/happy/moody erika.
Sane/numb erika are Abilify days.
Today is not an Abilify day.
When I take it, I lose my creativity, and some part of my intelligence. Maybe my curiosity... maybe something less tangible that happens when you go from being in full command of your intellectual faculties and then suddenly only have 80% control.
But I'm not crippled by overwhelming anxiety and suffering.
As I said to a friend, "it's like Sophie's fucking Choice up in here."
I go through. I continue. Persevere. I have learned the meaning of those words. To keep an intimate relationship, I keep more things to myself, and I have learned the value of privacy to understand the currency of communication.
Communication disseminates information and can easily lead to intimacy, and therefore is an important as hell part of the work in relationships itself.
In a fact that will surprise no one who knows my parents, the communication skills I learned growing up are largely limited to threats and control-freak manipulative behavior.
It's been a real fucking pleasure to have to learn to express needs like an adult. If I were in charge of The Force, it would be vulnerability that leads to the Dark Side, so that's been a real fucking challenge, too.
(That having been said, it's still unclear to me why I haven't been journalling. Just haven't had the time, really, I suppose. More entries, but shorter than the norm seems likely.)
Actually talking to your partner is fucking important, evidently. I would say who knew, but let's be honest, everyone but me did.
Esperanza. But I won't wait, while I hope. I fight, I scheme, I build, I try my best. I do it every day, and it doesn't get any easier, but at least it hasn't gotten worse. And I like the results.
Carve it on my fucking tombstone. it's not quite Dorothy Parker*, but "She always tried her best" will do.
Sane/numb erika are Abilify days.
Today is not an Abilify day.
When I take it, I lose my creativity, and some part of my intelligence. Maybe my curiosity... maybe something less tangible that happens when you go from being in full command of your intellectual faculties and then suddenly only have 80% control.
But I'm not crippled by overwhelming anxiety and suffering.
As I said to a friend, "it's like Sophie's fucking Choice up in here."
I go through. I continue. Persevere. I have learned the meaning of those words. To keep an intimate relationship, I keep more things to myself, and I have learned the value of privacy to understand the currency of communication.
Communication disseminates information and can easily lead to intimacy, and therefore is an important as hell part of the work in relationships itself.
In a fact that will surprise no one who knows my parents, the communication skills I learned growing up are largely limited to threats and control-freak manipulative behavior.
It's been a real fucking pleasure to have to learn to express needs like an adult. If I were in charge of The Force, it would be vulnerability that leads to the Dark Side, so that's been a real fucking challenge, too.
(That having been said, it's still unclear to me why I haven't been journalling. Just haven't had the time, really, I suppose. More entries, but shorter than the norm seems likely.)
Actually talking to your partner is fucking important, evidently. I would say who knew, but let's be honest, everyone but me did.
Esperanza. But I won't wait, while I hope. I fight, I scheme, I build, I try my best. I do it every day, and it doesn't get any easier, but at least it hasn't gotten worse. And I like the results.
Carve it on my fucking tombstone. it's not quite Dorothy Parker*, but "She always tried her best" will do.
*Wherever she went,
including here,
it was against her better judgment.
