So maybe I made a mistake, not taking my meds.
Before: could not paint. Angry all the time. Feeling nothing. Wanting nothing.
Now: painting, making, creating, full of pain and anxiety and thoughts. Angry an sad and full of chaos. A week now I think. Needs and desires and hunger, like a hurricane.
No, maybe not a mistake. I want to die sometimes yes. Not all the time. Too much to create, to see, to feel, to learn.
The storm inside can take my breath away but it can lift me up and make me feel like a soaring albatross. Full of strength - yes! Strength! - but full of pain as well.
Creativity and destructivity as two parts of a whole. My arms can turn into wings but that means that I don't have arms anymore. Destruction and creation is only change.
Yes, I hate my life and I want to die, sometimes. But I have a functional brain now. I can think these thoughts. I'm not empty anymore.
I'm going to live. I feel confused a lot, betrayed even though no betrayal has happened, rejected when people try to be respectful.
I don't like being alone but I really do feel like my precence is difficult for others and that it's egotistical of me to want to be in the company of others.
Also, I don't feel sure that I can trust anyone. Because I feel so sure that they don't actually want my precence. And when I have been rejected once that's proof enough. Proof that they only stand my precence out of compassion, not for me. They want to be kind because it's the right thing. For themselves, not for me.
Depression logic, thought traps, circular arguments. This is what I need to win over. I have no idea how.
In my mind I know that I'm not that horrible. In my logic brain I understand that I'm wrong about being unwanted, unloved. I need to convince myself of it somehow.
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