I honestly don’t know what to say. I don’t have any clever words of wisdom nothing but just feeling numb. I’m not particularly sad but I’m not happy either. Last week was a living nightmare and the energy that was drained from my body had taken a heavy toll on me. So much is going on in my world my job situation, my writing, my future all this is weighting heavy on my mind. It’s like the twilight zone has taken hold of my body throwing me in an ongoing loop of noise filled numbness.
Just recently a really good friend of mine well more like a champion informed me that our thirty year high school reunion is happening this August. He asked if I was plan on going. I paused then responded with I don’t know. It’s always difficult task going back to high school. I can imagine it’s a tough time for most but for me it was my living hell nightmarish prison that I thought I would never escape. The anxiety of getting to school was a nightmare. I spent four years with a bunch of miserable assholes who pride themselves on being assholes becoming the target of many vicious attacks. My four years were spent dodging bullets, ducking hand grenades and digging deep trenches to hide in. Why on earth would I want to volunteer to spend one evening reliving that?
Hello, I’m Sunny Larue known as the professional martini drinking blogger storyteller. I was diagnosed with depression at sixteen. My depression became manic at the beginning of twenty nineteen my Aunt passed then six months later the most important person in my life unexpectedly passed. When my mother passed all of my neurotic depressive behavior intensely magnified. The pain of losing both my Aunt who also had a huge impact in life and my mother I created a dream world that I kept getting lost in. I functioned like a “normal” person but honestly I felt like my dreaming world was taking over and spilling into reality. Pretty scary.
Mommy please take my hand, hold it tight. I’m scared I won’t live through the night. These voices speak to me tell me to do things I don’t want to do. Their force, the powerful voices commends me to tell you this truth. I don’t want to live anymore. My behavior has caused so much pain. I don’t want you to cry anymore, but these powerful voices I can’t ignore anymore. If you can just sleep here tonight and hold me tight maybe they will go away.
I sit here in my favorite red chair drinking my blueberry coffee from my favorite cup staring out the open window as the cool breeze hit my face, my thoughts speaking to me what seem to be in foreign languages. Trying to control and pin down my thinking is a process that is hard especially when my thoughts are all over the place. Sometimes I fear I’m losing grip on reality my mind is playing the ultimate role head-lining act of some cornball carnival,the main attraction of some freakish side-show.
“Ladies and Gents step right up to this here attraction watch how this manic-depressive handles a meltdown.“
Today I’m feeling a bit blah. Not sad but not quite happy either. I’m in between the two. I call this stage of my manic depression “the blah factor.” It’s a numbing feeling. I don’t care about things as much as I should when I visit this stage. Having a mental disorder you’re on a constant roller coast ride up and down back and forth its rare your able to get off.
The rain falls gently touching the skin of the naked earth. The trees stripped of their leaves exposing their bare bark. Nature enjoying the gentle rain fall like a woman taking a long hot shower. Soaked, the tall green grass shiver in the brisk cool winter breeze and I alone with my thoughts watching as mother nature give us a show taking center stage delighting us with her beauty. So overwhelmed, I can’t help but to feel small in this equation as I am too naked.
This week hasn’t been such a hellish week as in the past, although the week has just begin, I made some decisions when it comes to my mental well-being. I decided to really work on keeping my Chum and his party friends sequestered. I also decided not to allow anyone to hijack or take hostage my emotions. Monday I was tested. The She-Devil was at it again only this time no one seem to cared enough to indulge in her madness. Again I shouldn’t feel anything towards this person but how can I talk about changing and staying positive if I can’t forgive the She-Devil. When forgiveness isn’t enough what’s next?
Today I had an interesting conversation about recovering from my meltdown. I call my little manic depression “My Chum” and I showcase what my Chum does. If you follow me, you know I speak openly about my disorder. The conversation I had I was asked an unusual question. Sitting here drinking my coffee waiting for my banana nut bread I was asked when my Chum comes for a visit what do I carry in purse? I’m like Homer said what? Dumbfounded, I didn’t know what to say. For once I had no clever comeback or no witty remark. I have never been asked that. I got to thinking what do I carry in my purse when dealing with my Chum? This is the topic of today’s blog post.
Today is Wed a hump day which is generally my favorite day of the week simply because I can say “Hump Day” and no one will get offended. Today been a busy day at my paying job. Looking around the office I noticing the colors a bright yellow, pink & green which is all good colors good sign and I wouldn’t have it any other way.