You know it is very disheartening when your disorder blocks your creative ability. It blocks the ambition and drive to be all that you can be. I realize that depression is wasting time. Depression is wasting my time. Anxiety is wasting my time. Whatever the hell else I got going on in the brain is wasting time.
I have so much to give and to share. I just can’t get to it. It is wrapped in layers of a broken brain. Broken brain. Broken brain. Broken brain.
I want so much to use my creative ability to express what I have to share or offer to others. There is so much that I want to do and to give. I haven’t the energy. My brain sees, ‘oh look a place to lay down.’ I want it to see, ‘oh look! An opportunity to help or give with your creative self!’
I believe that I could be an amazing person. I care a lot about people. I care a lot about injustices and causes. I want to be a part of something amazing! (Besides my amazing children and husband. Know what I mean?) I want to live my life. The “broken brain” simply will not let me do that right now. Have to get around those layers some how. Dig through the life sucking, blocking exterior to get to the good stuff! To get to me.
I see other friends and acquaintances live their lives. Use their creative ability to express what they have to share or give to others. I know that I can not compare myself to them. I mean I must not compare myself to others. I do. Honestly I do. On a daily basis. That’s probably one of my set backs.
It’s the cycle of having a mental illness. I need to break the cycle. I need to fix the “broken brain” somehow to break the cycle. It’s ironic that I need to fix my brain to break a cycle. Yes, do consider my recovery of mental illness fixing. The chemicals in my brain and receptors need some help. Some ‘fixing’.
I have forty-three years of repairs to do. Forty-three years of toxic thinking to undo. Forty-three years of living me a certain way. Wow, seems like a long time. Almost midlife. I guess my first childhood memory was when I was three or four years old. Perhaps thirty-nine years of retraining my brain. I have been working on it for about twenty years now. Seriously the past five years though. I have had a lot of set backs and putting my recovery on hold to concentrate on other priorities. My depression has been treatment resistant.
I’m considering a more invasive treatment now. I need my life. I need to live. I need to BE productive. Not only for myself but, for my children. I want to set a good example for them. I mean I am seeking treatment. They see that. That is one way that I am taking care of myself.
I need to rid the layers of broken brain. I need to live my life!
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