|Photo: Pink Sherbert Photography|
I do this to myself all the time; kill a thing before it's been given a life. I have been stymied by the whole issue, above all, because I think I am not good enough or some crap. I can't afford to think like that anymore. If I don't believe in myself, who can? Blog schmlog, but don't stop! I think this is the point in a project where I typically give up. I have to see this as a succession of little problems to be worked slowly instead of one great, big, suffocating one. Six months is nothing.
Being crazy is all I have ever known. Surely, I have something to say on the subject. Admittedly, the cocktail of medicine that I'm on is not helping. At times it feels as though my brain has been stolen and replaced with a dull, weighty stone.
My original aim was to blog for a year. The year I would stand in line to see a judge about my crazy. The year I would climb out of helpless mode and Help Myself. The year I win. That's the goal on my good days.
People care. I can see that clearly, now. I was so wrapped up in my dark place that I forgot the light of humanity. I was chewing on cotton and void of good feelings. I am sometimes full of excuses and self-hatred.
The fact is I will be pulling pieces of my mind back from the edge for the rest of my life. I have to decide what that looks like. I need something to show for all my secret battles. I need to see that I have been on this earth and done something- anything.