Similarly, in an intro to psychology class in my first year of college, I was the most introverted person in the class. I use to think my introversion was my most stable personality trait at a time when my own identity was a mystery I had no idea how to solve.
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Identity is a weird thing. For the last 19 years my identity has included living with bipolar disorder. Two weeks ago I found out that this was a misdiagnosis. I am now slowly running into each and every ingrained thought pattern that doesn’t work anymore.
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I haven’t been writing poetry lately. Or really, much of anything. For the last four-ish years I have been writing on occasion, but nothing I am supremely happy with and everything I produced seemed to feel… different somehow. Not as powerful. Not as passionate. Some kind of watered down, mealy mouthed collection of niceties where the subject matter was literally no longer life or death.
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I thought to myself, tomorrow I will grab my book, Karaoke, that’s lighter fare! It has the Kylo Ren poem in it and everything. The next day, I grabbed a copy and flipped through it. Then I remembered what was actually in the book and the Kylo Ren poem doesn’t make up for the other 100+ pages of absolutely grinding trauma and pain.
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In the midst of feeling like I am barely human, barely functioning, barely able to pretend anymore, an amazing opportunity comes along. Not sure if it will pan out. Not sure if I will be back on here complaining about missed chances in a few days. But having some hope for breakfast is the most filling meal.
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There is nothing the brides-to-be love more on wedding groups than discussing whether or not you should change your last name after marriage. As someone who changed their first and middle name back in 2014, I feel like a lot of people don’t understand the process of doing so or the implications changing your name has on the rest of your life.
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When I was in high school I was absolutely obsessed with autobiographies. Naturally, I thought one day I might write my own autobiography. Of course then, I thought I would never have anything interesting to say. Oh, high school Star, you sweet summer child.
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My belief in human goodness was so high the test called me naive. Which I’m fine with. That’s the worst thing you can say about me? I’ll take it. Also, for trauma survivors, it’s common to show higher rates of distrust of other people. My distrust was low. I’m not sure how I managed that. But yeah, that’s correct.
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When I think about it, I never thought the year I turned 40 would be the year I became who I actually am without physical illness and without diagnoses of mental illness that no longer fit. This leaves me only one question now: What am I going to do for 41?
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Dr. Theodore Woodward once said something to the effect of, “When you hear hoofbeats behind you, don’t expect to see a zebra.” This example of Occam’s Razor simply means, in this part of the world, you are more likely to see a horse than a zebra. So the simplest explanation, there are horses behind you, is probably the best.
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I have actually experienced medication withdrawal before. One time I had to go cold turkey off two psych meds because of an insurance snafu they refused to resolve for months. Even so, I have never experienced withdrawal symptoms like this.
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This year, so far, has been so overwhelming. I often feel like life is entirely too much. I never seem to reach a point where things are peaceful and not much is going on. This year, however, has been about ten times more blindingly fast and ridiculously chock full of nonsense.
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