Quiet contemplation

I seem to have a fair amount to say for myself at the moment,  and no one that I feel to say it to.  I begin,  and then hesitate. I’m sure then this is recovery talk.  I have lots of ideas at the moment,  and specific things in particular areas of my life,  writing them down & sounding them out allows them to fully develop. 
I think this is why I have been withdrawing from some aspects of my life,  for a time of contemplation. 

This is a good move,  I believe,  however it means I’m not as certain about things as I usually am.  I’m still set on ideas,  projects but my brain is clearly occupied figuring some longer term issues out.
I don’t mind,  it’s giving me lots of ideas and I think I’m finally relocating my sense of humour,  in parts at least. 

I’ll just ride this out until the situation requires otherwise… and be sure to enjoy it.

Universal search engine

Search: (verb) ” try to find something by looking or otherwise seeking carefully and thoroughly”.

All my life I feel like I’ve been searching for something I cannot find. 
For years I literally and physically searched.  I could never settle somewhere for more thsn six months because I felt so incomplete.

After my diagnosis I turned this external searching inward and searched my soul,  then I started Reiki and searched the ethereal. 
I figured the closer I got to my goal of peace the less urgent the need to search would become.
Now as I stand here,  at the possible point at which the end is beginning, I feel the urgency more than ever. 
What have I been searching for?

I tell myself I have everything I need.  I’ve never been one for material possessions,  don’t get me wrong,  I love my bed and roof over my head as the next guy… but they aren’t real. 
Even to the extent that if all this newish talk in science is correct,  they really aren’t real,  but part of a massive holographic Universe,  how does that help,  really?
“Questioning everything already? Here,  question some more like the very phone screen you are ‘touching’.

How,  when you are so aware of the vast consciousness we all exist in, can you stop searching? How will I ever find what I am looking for?
How do I know I haven’t found it and then decided,  unwittingly,  this was not what I sought in the first instance switching and changing my request in this universal search engine,  as and when it pleases me to do so?

If what I’ve suspected is true,  then that is all we are here to do.  Search experiences we have not had before,  to help us grow.  To learn about the world we exist in, to understand ourselves in relation to every aspect of it, to define each step and each soulful resurrection.

What if I am always searching for the next highest thought of myself?   The next level of existence within the spiritual realm.  Well,  that holds more of a sense of reality to me than reality itself. 
I’m so disconnected from this world,  I wonder if I was ever really a part of it.

The spiritual plain though,  when I walk that everything makes sense. 
I often wonder,  if infact suicide ideation is not in fact suicide ideation in me these days,  but merely a longing to exist in either reality.. To stop the link between so I may live in one instance,  rather than retain such awareness of all instances occurring simultaneously.

What if I’m not searching for anything other than my other self,  my self in another time,  another space,  another consciousness?

Sounds crazy to some,  but it’s a knowing and certainty I cannot deny. 
It is the very source of mine and everyone else’s ‘gut instinct”,  to me it’s just a certainty.
I only waver on these when the disorder kicks in… I know the difference these days between physically impaired thought patterns and Spiritually inspired ideas and creativity. 

I don’t know,  maybe I’m not searching for anything… But the only thing I’ve ever been set on is travelling,  I think to find what I’m searching for.. I’ve known I would travel from such a young age. 
I think I’ve said before,  not much about me has changed since my youth,  other than the  fact that I don’t need to change my mind,  and spirit,  just the representation of them in reality.

I still can’t help but get stuck on wondering if I’ll ever find what,  or who,  or where I’m searching for if I don’t know what it is in the first place…

One more thing

Do you ever feel like your heart’s breaking..? That’s returning last few months.
The sadness that is always there under your smile,  you can’t pinpoint it,  but you know it’s the proper soul drowning sadness…

Gonna have to work on that one…

R. A. N. T with no direction

My sleep has been all over the shop recently.  Partially due to the afore mentioned med drop,  partially due to my overactive mind.

I’m writing again,  properly… Everyday which feels fucking brilliant.  Of course this brings the not so bonus of continual poetic thought,  meaning every thought I’m having is turning to poetry or spoken word in my brain,  no my eyes are duly notin the beauty of every inch of the Universe.
Admittedly this isn’t exactly terrible, I adore the feeling this gives me… However when it doesn’t stop to let you drift into sleep it can be quite annoying.

I have reached the conclusion when my mind is in this format writing is essentially an OCD compulsion,  in the urgency to write which these days I let go. I don’t want writing to be associated  in negative way to any symptoms,  I med to begin the process of separating the writing I partake in for release and writing for fun. Admittedly it’s a little difficult to implement this at this present moment. I’ve got a lot on my mind,  more than usual… Spanning  a wonderful array of topics.. How nice for me. (pfft)…

My mum contacted me this morning.  It threw me,  we haven’t spoken again in at least three or four months,  before that I don’t remember.

I hate this continual battle ever present with myself over her place in my life,  or right to have one.
I mean,  she’s my mum, nobody will ever replace her,  it’s bloody impossible. Towards the end of last year I reached the conclusion that I had to try,  again.  Recently though I seem to be quite comfortable with her absence.  Thing is, I don’t think I’ve ever needed her,  yet it remained aware of the fact she always needed me.
I remember being 7 and cuddling her because she was crying,  telling her everything would be OK.  Now that’s not unusual,  granted, it never was just once,  or twice.  It was repeatedly.  
I just think,  Christ like I wasn’t trying to survive myself.  It’d be different if we were a team.  We weren’t,  obviously.. I supported her,  she berated me,  along with the physical abuse .. I honestly believed I was the weak one.  I wasn’t though,  I’m slowly realising I never have been.

When people meet her, I think they expect an alcoholic mess,  but she’s just another person.  No different.. I think that’s why I’ve always instinctively hovered towards alternative individuals,  they don’t choose to hide behind the mask of normality, so many do including most people I know.

I used to try to bring people away from the confines of their own perspective,  but honestly what is the point if they aren’t peeking out already?

Answers on a post card to…

One thing

You know the same one thing has been on my mind since Spring last year.. It never leaves me,  I don’t talk about it and few know these thoughts have existed.

Gotta be all cryptic about shit though because unfortunately I can’t put a pin access code on my blog. 

I don’t think I’ve really written about much other than mental health related things for a while.

I’m not sure if this is mental health related or pure stupidity.
It’s a knowing,  a certainty.  Certainties are things in particular I’m rarely incorrect on. What’s the point in me calling them  “certainties” if I am not certain about them?

Well people just keep telling how right I am with most things.
I joke about it on top but inside I’m like,  no I simply thought about it through a Variant perspective to my own.

Anyway I’m certain I was wrong,  then right,  then wrong… But then I forget what it is… And it doesn’t matter anymore.

But this.. This is killing me slowly

You know the same one thing has been on my mind since Spring last year.. It never leaves me,  I don’t talk about it and few know these thoughts have existed.

Gotta be all cryptic about shit though because unfortunately I can’t put a pin access code on my blog. 

I don’t think I’ve really written about much other than mental health related things for a while.

I’m not sure if this is mental health related or pure stupidity.
It’s a knowing,  a certainty.  Certainties are things in particular I’m rarely incorrect on. What’s the point in me calling them  “certainties” if I am not certain about them?

Well people just keep telling how right I am with most things.
I joke about it on top but inside I’m like,  no I simply thought about it through a Variant perspective to my own.

Anyway I’m certain I was wrong,  then right,  then wrong… But then I forget what it is… And it doesn’t matter anymore.

But this.. This is killing me slowly

Tomorrow

I hope tomorrow I can pull myself out of this headspace.  My two weeks are up for my med drop and relating to that,  most evidence represents a sensible decision.  However OCD is trying a peaceful sit in. It’s wearing me out.

This week though,  the plan us to begin to pull myself up again. I think beginning will be harder than it has in a few years,  but once I’m able to shift my mindstate I think it’ll be cool.

Tomorrow then,  tomorrow will be the beginning of better days.  I owe it to myself after riding out this med drop to continue the ride and hold on tight,  with enthusiasm and hope and all the right things for success.

Back to basics time.  To reset my brain and start the mechanism soundly after the chemical shift of the med drop.

I’ve been feeling physically shite all day,  but I’ve adjusted well, and outside of emotional numbness,  I’ve been relatively OK.

Tomorrow is the road to one up from okay,  until I get back to energetic and resilient.

It’s not fucking rocket science

I dunno, I keep pushing myself to just do things for myself,  but it causes me stress when I could just push forward with therapy,  drop poetry and art and possibly actually get back to work before the age of 35.

I just don’t see the point in trying to retain Humility and trying to not take shit personally,  to not stress at people When if I gave less of a shit od get hurt less.  Just logically ya know 

Coming to this stage in my therapy requires absolute realistic thinking,  but it’s always taken as a negative stance.  How being realistic and not bumbling along in a dream world is negative is beyond me.

If anybody actually paid attention to who I am they’d realise every time I get like this is when I make changes for the better.  But it’s a measurement of how my situation is through their eyes. But my life and perspective are not theirs.
It doesn’t take an idiot to connect the dots. 

It’s always seem as “poor me, my poor life” because that’s what it is for them.
For me it’s “I’m not happy with something,  I need to realise and express that to change that situation,  or direction.  I reach my own conclusions more often than not because I’m an adult who’d rather live off my own mistakes and decisions than everyone else’s.

People don’t see it from my point of view because no one actually takes the time to find out about people.
Yet when I understand people’s viewpoint people are shocked.  It’s not magic,  it’s information and reasoning. 

It’s purely because I have the ability to listen but as time goes on I spend more time just talking about myself because no one asks,  and presumes.  So I just explain anyway. 

It’s not fucking rocket science, communication and friendship, nay as fucking well be though

Blah, blah

You know,  nuff people come to me when they feel like shit.  I used to accommodate every but now I just do it for people I feel a connection to so I don’t wear myself out and get angry when no one talks to me when I declare I feel shit.

You know I don’t even need a shoulder to cry on. Because all these people need propping up emotionally,  it seems people think I need that. 

No sometimes it’s just nice people giving a shit about your life in any form. 
My stress is never from my own weakness,  it’s from my own strength.  It feels like because I don’t need people to wipe my fucking arse for me These days,  that I just don’t need anything

I need to not feel detached from reality and that involves voicing mine.  It’s not even me just being insecure,  it prevents me from dissociating half as much as I do.

I’m not stuck in a dream world,  my brain detaches because of the 17 years of abuse I experienced.  It’s a defence reaction by my brain.

But it comes from me and I’m too deep,  or worrying about nothing, or being dramatic.

At times I’m like other people’s issues may seem insignificant to my life but they’re not living my life,  and if it’s significant to them,  then it matters.

I grew up through a childhood of little Empathy and sympathy for natural human emotions,  and it still happens as an adult and not one person in my life isn’t like this.
It’s one word answers,  when half the tie I’m not venting,  I’m sounding out.  Which means I reach a conclusion all on my very own without having to have it pointed out for me.  I’m a problem solver,  and when I’m down I always bounce back.
Getting the lack of response I do I’d a kick in the teeth.

It’s like yeah talk about your shit because I have time,  which I make for people but I talk about my shit and well… I’m only annoyed that I keep listening to people 

I’ve just felt for so long why should I isolate myself because of other people because if I don’t end up with advice to give,  or an ear to listen then conversations don’t happen.

And when I bring this up people go automatically into defence mode rather than listening to What I’m saying.
Like everyone is a victim. 
But I’m accused of being a victim when I try to just say to people I feel this way.  If people tell me I’m being shit  even if defence occurs,  I calm down go back and find out if this is an issue or words out of stressful moments and sort it the fuck out.  So I’m not being a cunt 

But why,  why bother? I’m not allowed emotions so I think we’ll if I just utilise my Empathetic ear solely for myself then there’s no problems. But then any contact I did have ends

I’m getting to the point where I’d just rather become a recluse than go through this pointless bullshit 

Because that’s all it regarding my situation,  it’s fucking pointless

That moment

The moment you look back over the two and a half years you’ve been waiting for therapy only to realise as time has progressed you’ve denied yourself the right to feel more often as time has gone on.

Dropping my meds has felt like the mekting of a foggy dreamworld and part of me can’t remember from March last year when I upped it to two weeks ago when I began dropping it. 

Of course some symptoms have returned with avengance,  that’s to be expected in my book… But the mixture of clarity and stupidity is phenomenonal.

My brain is not able to function properly yet,  that is clear.  But my head has turned back towards writing like it should be,  and that feels pretty great,  despite the fact I’m a bit of a walking zombie.  Unable to sleep at night,  tired in the day and pushing until my eyes are involuntarily closing but most days I’m having half hour to 2 hour long sleeps. 
I think this will fade once my body has completely cleansed itself of the higher dose.

I flashbacked like a bastard this week,  again something I can’t help but utilise in my brain to back up the thoery it’s not helpful going into therapy on full meds otherwise you won’t feel it properly,  I need to feel to communicate and communicate to process.

I guess you just kind of have to put things in context.  If I concentrated on the severity of the reexperiencing then I’d probably fall apart,  but I think about what will do this properly and I can’t help but feel I know exactly what I’m doing with my own mind, and I will do myself justice

“Do it with passion, or not at all”