Pills

I take thirty-five pills a week. Pills to help me feel present, in control, calm, safe from the monster of doom. Lately, I've doubted their ability to work and only seem to notice their ability to make me gain weight. They do help though, in little/big ways. I haven't gone to my dark place for a while, I am on the cusp of the cave, but not in it quite yet. It seems that I creep closer and closer to it as the days go by...but I'm still not in it so that counts for something.

Yesterday my therapist said the only thing that shows my personality is my tattoos. And that I look like a librarian, but have a murderous rage simmering right in my center. These things are hard to hear, especially when I know they are true. I'm so angry at so many things but don't know how to express it, so I get stuck in looking pleasant, acting pleasant and trying to keep all my loose ends tied up. If you think about it, its really a 1950s state of mind. No wonder I admire that era so much.

Good things:

Pills
Carnations
Ice cream
My art room
Sleep

Bad things:

Pills
Feeling like shit
A messy house
Amelia eating my shoes
Irritability