I stopped taking my meds a week and a half ago. Why? Because I ran out because I haven’t seen my psych in 6 months because making appointments and being an adult is hard. Luckily, I was able to call and make an appointment for this week, so I’ll have my meds again, but being “off” of them again is…weird.
I’m rapid cycling through hypomania and depressive phases – constantly on the verge of weeping and yet moving through life so fast that I can’t control what I do. I’ve been sleeping less and feeling fine about it, except for the fact that every day I want to cry all the time. I’ve spent so much money that I technically have, but shouldn’t be spending, on things that I don’t need at all, though about half of them are useful (dresses and shoes I can wear to work? Useful. Yuri!!! On Ice merch and Harley Quinn cosplay stuff? Makes me feel better, but not as useful.)
I’m still managing to go to work, but I only have a part time job right now, so I’m actively looking for a full time job now that I’ve graduated from my Master’s Program. But that gives me a lot of empty time where I watch youtube videos, laugh manically, watch anime and listen to podcasts, weep silently, shop online, shop in stores, and text and text and text my friends. It’s also a lot of time on the computer.
You know what else is on the computer? The news. You know what sucks worse than my own life? The things I see on the news. Not the least of which is the fact that we live in some sort of fascist something I can’t articulate right now because my head is both cloudier than it ever has been and clearer than it’s been in years. Separating children from their families and putting them in cages is what this country has come to. And by “come to” I mean “come back to.”
I am a middle class (??) white woman with somewhat severe mental health issues. (The question marks are because if it was just based on my salary and assets, I would live below the poverty line. But my parents are helping me until I get a job post-grad, and then I’m on my own. [did the font just change or am I imagining things?] But I also know I always have the opportunity to go back and live with my parents if I need to, and they’re willing to support me that way/help me get back on my feet if it comes to that. Etc). Point being, I’ve been having a lot of personal troubles since I graduated, but when it comes down to it, I’m /fine/. Sure, I may be having a bit of a mental break, but I’ll come out the other side of it probably. And if I don’t then I’ll be dead and it won’t matter anymore.
But my point is literally everything else in the world is a shitshow. And I don’t know what I can do to help. I know I can’t fix it on my own. I live in a blue state with elected officials who are (theoretically) doing their best to change things, and even though I think the system is corrupt and needs to be thrown out completely, having government officials who think that putting children in concentration camps is immoral, child abuse, wrong, what have you is MUCH better than anything that we currently have. So I don’t know that calling them will help, because they’re already working on it. In theory. I don’t have any money to donate. I don’t have a network of influential anything, and while I have some time to volunteer in between the part time job and the job search, I don’t know where or how to help.
What can I do?
And so my morals and my mental health are also almost fighting with each other – because both of them want me to do SOMETHING, but my brain is telling me that if I’m not in the space to take care of myself how the hell can I help anyone else? (Put on your own oxygen mask before assisting others). But then my heart is like, “you silent, selfish bitch.” because if I don’t say anything, if I don’t do anything, then aren’t I just complicit in the acts of violence, cruelty, and literally everything else going on?
So I’m in a constant state of personal and interpersonal distress. And I don’t know what to do.
I just don’t know. I just feel like sleeping and screaming and ahhhhhhhhhhh.
So I make gnocchi in spicy tomato sauce for breakfast, tweet about being rickrolled, and post Waluigi memes on my timeline. I search for jobs, and go to work, and text and text and text my friends. And I lay on the couch and cry without crying, without sound or tears, but with great, wrenching sobs. And I still don’t know what to do.