The past few days have been a real struggle. Bad enough for me to consider going back on my meds. But I know I won’t. I’ve been off of them for almost 3 years and I’m pretty sure my old psychiatrist is retired now.
And I don’t want to have to take them again.
Which is stupid. Because I also don’t want to feel like this.
And I’m getting even more anxious knowing by not addressing it I’m being irresponsible and stupid.
And I don’t even know what triggered all of this anxiety to begun with.
But it’s snow balling.
And I feel like an emotional paraplegic.
Today I we went to one of Justin’s relatives beach house. While we were three I spent a good while with his youngest cousin, finding seashells and throwing them into the water, just hanging out. We really hit it off.
And then on the way home he told me that same little boy has leukemia.
He starts chemo again in 3 months.
Its obviously sad, but that sad is really sticking with me.
I still haven’t wrapped my head around it.
“In a way, you are poetry material; You are full of cloudy subtleties I am willing to spend a lifetime figuring out. Words burst in your essence and you carry their dust in the pores of your ethereal individuality.”—Franz Kafka, Letters To Milena (via violentwavesofemotion)