winter

winter

Thursday, May 25, 2017

Word vomit, no big deal.

I found my 'hook' for an autobiographical story. I should feel well about this. I honestly don't. I feel pretty horrible to be honest. I have been told by friends and acquaintances that I should write down my memoirs. I was always thinking that I was too young to write them. Over the last several years, I have been shifting in that stance.

I find myself questioning if it would be therapeutic to write it. I haven't decided. In the meantime, I keep trying to stay on top of my journal writing (therapeutic and not) but it has been hard. Just as I found my 'hook' to start an autobiographical story, I find myself feeling like all of my writing is just vanity and that I am terrible at it. I honestly feel like I am not doing well right now on so many fronts. But I can not tell which is legitimately a problem and what is just my illness telling me is wrong. Because depression. phobias, and stuff like post-traumatic stress induced negative thinking all lie to me.

Gods help me, I hope I find a therapist who takes my insurance. I'm afraid that I can't.

In the meantime, I am doing my best not to be freaked out about everything happening in the world. And I am struggling with things like how many people in my social circle are talking about a guy who assaulted me (the guy got arrested on soliciting sex from a minor, and I suspect that human trafficking is going to come into play here). It's quieted down a little bit since the beginning of the month, but it is still very much a topic and it still bothers me, significantly.

Ah well, I will do what I can with what I have. Hopefully, I will adjust to the medication change quickly and get my life back in order.

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