coffee vs. awful beer

I am awake.

I clutch on to my coffee for the warmth, security, and comfort.  I don't hold my grip too strongly, in fear of spilling the scalding beverage all over my hands, and destroying the precious drink.  The coffee is inviting and soothing, and I welcome its intense embrace as it passes my lips, and invigorates my entire being.  I can always depend on coffee to pick me up and get me going.  It has that astounding ability to melt away my fatigue in an instant, just like magic.  Coffee has that perfect balance between sweet and bitter.  When I wake up to coffee, my day is bright, and I smile because I got my fix.  It seems to know me perfectly, and goes so well with me. 

I am addicted, and I don't want to stop.

Sometimes I get drowsy, though.  It's like someone switched my darling coffee out for a vile mug of Old Milwaukee, flavored with Tylenol PM, Unisom, Ambien, and shame.  I accidentally take a swig, and no matter how hard I try to spit it out, the repugnant taste holds my mouth hostage, and I feel weary and weak.  I violently try to purge out the poison, but all I end up doing is getting myself upset, sick and missing my coffee.

I swear, I had a point to this.  I'll remember it some time.  

Sedate the sober and over anxious

I wanted to spew some of my thoughts on medications. 

I think our society is overly medicated, in most instances. When I was pregnant, my hormones/terrible situation were making me insanely depressed. I saw a shrink, and within 5 minutes of speaking to her, she tried diagnosing me with ADHD. I basically told her to go fuck herself, and I walked out.

Since then, I've been on a couple of anti-depressants, and I've only really stuck with one. I'm on Wellbutrin, and it hasn't totally messed with me. Come to think of it, I've noticed that I'm much happier and I have a healthy appetite because of some drastic lifestyle changes, so I don't know how much of that has been the anti-depressant, or how much has been on my own accord.

Now, in regards to medications that aren't designated as mood stabilizers, they can certainly fuck with your mood, too. I've witnessed this firsthand with someone close to me who got hooked on pain meds. 

Do you call yourself a patient or a junkie? The only thing that separates is who takes your money.

 In a general sense, you can develop a dependency to anything.
I think the point I was trying to make, is that the drug reps push the doctors into writing more scripts than paying attention to the patient's needs, and it's how people get hooked on all of these chemicals.

Now, I'm not disputing the validity of mood stabilizing drugs. I've rarely seen them work to anyone's benefit, but then again I've known of at least five extreme cases. It seems like it's generally shifted to an abuse of power in the medical industry.

I was raised not to depend on a chemical to make me feel good. I have been formally diagnosed with some mental stuff, but I think personally, a good chunk of that has been a bit more situational than a chemical imbalance. Again, I'm going to reiterate that I'm not saying using mood stabilizing drugs are a copout, or anything like that when they're used properly.

I also want to point out that it seems like a lot of mental disorders are misdiagnosed or overdiagnosed for the benefit of the pharmaceutical companies' profit.

ADD/ADHD. This one really fucking grinds my gears: Being a child of the 90's, I saw a lot of kids my age getting diagnosed with it. I think it's a huge crock of shit, for the most part. I remember when my first grade teacher requested that I got screened for it because I was a bouncy little 6 year old. That's what kids do. They don't sit still. They don't have an attention span for shit. Flash forward to high school, and these same kids are selling their pills for a profit, so others can get high off of basically legal meth.
Depression: Doctors are trained to know the difference between a seratonin deficiency, and being sad. They need to use this knowledge more efficiently.

Instead of being so quick to write out a script, I really wish medical professionals would explore medication as a last-resort.

Scrutiny

Have you ever felt like everything you do is being carefully examined under a microscope?  It's like someone is nitpicking all of the insignificant details, without looking at the objective, and making an illogical hypothesis. 

That's what my life has been like lately. 

What you deem to be your personal business, is no longer yours.  You're scared to do something seemingly innocent because you know that you will plummet into a heap of deranged criticism.  You don't feel like your motives are wrong.  You know that your heart is good, and your intentions are pure.  Miscalculate one breath, and you're an awful person.

Try to escape a tyrant, masquerading as a saint.  The physical being becomes that voice in the back of your head, beating your conscience into submission.  Those venomous words resonate in your mind.  You try to argue back.  Your convictions scream, and you try to muster up every bit of courage to let your mouth mirror your thoughts.  No, you just stay silent.  It could be because you know how much worse you'll make it if you don't comply.  It could be that you're not allowed to be audible. 

Would you run into a fire that has already scarred you beyond belief?

[and now you know that you can choose to lose the part of your heart where your insides bruise]

Maybe this is a residual effect of the pathetic sap I made myself out to be in my teenage years.  In a way, I kind of brought this upon myself with my submissive and naive nature.  It's a matter of learning how to grow, so you're too big for it to swallow you.

Don't be fucking stupid, Katie.

.freedom.can.be.frightening.if.you've.never.felt.it.

I have been thriving lately, and it's such a good feeling.  I find myself smiling a lot more, and the world just seems so much more vibrant, now.  I'm so excited so the way things can turn out. 

but then.

There's that annoying, shrill voice in the back of my head that tries to make me feel like a piece of shit for indulging.  You went out with your friends?  SELFISH.  You bought a six pack of beer, and it's sitting in your fridge?  ALCOHOLIC.  You're letting your words spill past your lips?  BITCH.  You enjoy being called beautiful?  SKANK.  Why would you even dare doing any of these things, outside of work and parenting?  How could you?  You're so retarded and irresponsible. 

Has that ever happened to you?  It seems as if you're being grabbed and scratched, and you're trying to kick your legs free from the dark shadow that wants to pull you back into misery.  [memories of the last fight to free yourself]

Almost tempted to give in.  Almost.

    Yet, I know better.  I'd like to think that I'm older and wiser.  I'd like to think I have built up an adequate amount of strength from what little life experience I do have. 

When I am tested, I falter, but still attempt to hold my ground.  That counts, right?  Right?   

I refuse to be miserable. 

enamored.

I look at him, and I question whether or not he's real.

It bewilders me. 

• How can a real person be that stunning?
• Does he have me under some sort of spell?  Is he magic?
• Why am I so drawn to him?

an enigma, wrapped in bacon. 

Perhaps, the element of mystery is what is so enticing.  My curious mind has stepped into an uncomfortable zone, in which I don't experience often.   When I say uncomfortable, I really mean it.  I kind of want to slap the shit out of myself for thinking like such a crazy person.

i hope he thinks i'm pretty, too.

creativity crisis.

While I'm doing this whole reconstruction of myself, I'm trying to think of things I'm good at, and I really can't think of anything worthwhile. 

People tell me I'm creative, but I never figured out how they would come to that conclusion.  I used to believe that I was a creative person.  Then I got to thinking- Did I lose my creativity, or did I even have it in the first place?  I was never amazing in art class.  I can't draw or paint.  My clothes are plain.  I don't have an ounce of musical talent.  I'm not even super witty.

I also put humor in the creativity category, because well, why not?  I really try to associate myself with funny people so that way I have more opportunities to laugh.  I was recently told that I'm not funny.  I took it a bit personally, probably because he said what I was thinking.  (My self-esteem isn't high yet.  Don't judge me.)  All my life, people have been telling me I'm funny.  Once I hear otherwise, my brain goes to panic mode.  How long have I been unfunny for?  Do other people think this, but are too nice to tell me?  WHY AM I SO AWKWARD?!?!?!?!
Shut the fuck up, Katie.

I have such a high value on the characteristic of creativity, and I'm quite envious of those who exude this quality. 

It's like in American Beauty, where Mena Suvari's character fears being ordinary.  Kevin Spacey's character validates her because he wants to get in her pants, obviously.  We all know that she had no personality, and was just a shallow, vapid whore. 
I don't want to be like that.

I fear being ordinary/boring.  I'm afraid of having no talent for something amazing.  Yeah, I wanna be like a goddamned special little snowflake.  Maybe I can just trick myself into thinking I'm all artsy and cool, when I'm really not.  Just like a hipster, of course. 

"The goal isn't to live forever- It's to create something that will."  I don't know who the fuck coined that phrase, and I'm too lazy to go through all the effort to open up a new tab in my browser to find out.  Don't you fucking judge me.

dreams/sacrifices

Do you remember a time of hope?  Where your dreams don't just swim around in your head- you had a chance at making them your reality.  When the world was your stage to shine, instead of being your conspirator.  Do you recall a time of being able to seize the moment- seize your life, captivate the world with your glory?  Was there ever a time you knew you could make it happen?

what happens

    when that dream

                                   expires?

You think that if you work hard enough, that you will be able to see the fruit of your labor.  Part of you still clings on to that glimmer of hope. Maybe if you work harder.  SMILE WIDER.  Laugh longer.  At what point do you break down and realize that no matter what you do, it's simply not in your control.  You realize that you just aren't good enough.  Do you clutch on to that daydream of self-improvement and exhaust yourself, trying to outdo yourself?  Or do you surrender and let the candle burn down to the wick?  What the fuck do you do?  Is this in your control, or do you really suck that much?

Maybe if you would just fucking apply yourself.  LOVE STRONGER, WORK MORE,  Clean meticulously,  Keep everyone happy, then just maybe you'll be okay.  Do you keep reaching for something that's out of your grasp?  Should you even muster the effort in doing so? 

How fucking important are YOU, in comparison to everyone else?  Are you the lead role, a supporting member, or an extra?  Do other people's happiness equate to yours? 

Make more sacrifices.  Give yourself up.

You're not that goddamned special.