Inpatient

I’m back in the ward. Have been all week. I need to change my meds and I had no idea how hard it would be. Today has been the worst day so far. This morning I was high as a kite, I’ve not been able to sit down, then crash. I crumbled into a thousand pieces. I feel numb now, somewhere in a void, devoid of any emotion. Any at all.

I miss my kids, my partner. My pets and home. I’m missing work tomorrow and I love my job so much. I’m in a place where the minutes tick on, and not a lot actually happens. With my thoughts. Alone.

I’m worried that my new meds won’t be effective. I’m worried that I will have to go back on what I’ve been on (Epilim and Seroquel), and they haven’t really worked for me. They kept me dull. Down. Just below the threshold of ‘normal’. Almost depressed, never actually truly happy. So yes I am putting a lot of hope on this. That it will be successful. That I will be able to function normally. That I won’t feel so desperately dull. I want to feel fulfilled, not empty.

I am tired of feeling envious of those who don’t have to live with what I do.

There are two storms brewing in the sky tonight. One one to the east, the other to the west. I’m watching the clouds converge and the lightning show above, hoping that this energy can be harvested within me, that I can harness the opposing sides of me, that I can become one. That I can feel again, and not be so exposed and raw.

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