I’m really nervous right now. It’s been about six years since I’ve posted. I’m not sure who’s going to even read this. Everything moves so fast. Phones change, emails change, social media platforms emerge left and right… everything moves fast. The only thing that’s moved slowly was each year that passed by being stuck in the abyss that is writers block. Somewhere along the way, I lost my inspiration. The thing is, I know exactly when it happened.
It all started with the pills. There was a pill to speed me up, a pill to slow me down, a pill to help me sleep, a pill to curb my binge eating and focus. I think you get it. I was on a crapload of medications. My pill box is the size of a soda can and when you shake it sounds like maracas. Problem was, with all those medications it took time to find the right combination to keep my moods level. While figuring that out, you’re going through insane side effects from falling into deep sleep 20 minutes after taking one drug, to having panic attacks on another. This is bipolar I folks and it ain’t purty. So yeah… I’ve spent 6 years wrapped up in side effects and figuring out who I am when I’m medicated.
There’s something about mood stabilizers that chip away from who you used to be. Then you become a new version of yourself that you never knew existed. When people see the behavioral changes, they’ll applaud you. They’ll say how happy they are for you. Some may even tell you that you’re so much better (which gives you real insight to how f-cked up you must have been). Suddenly you become who you were meant to be if you weren’t mentally ill to begin with. This makes you totally out of touch with the version of yourself you knew for decades before being diagnosed. That, my friends is how the seed for writers block was planted.
The trade off for ditching the mania and depression was getting pieces of me chipped away. I stumble across my words regularly. I exist in a cloud of brain fog and my memory has gone to Hades. Fun fact? Sometimes I forget what words mean. A person who wrote for fun forgets what words mean. My favorite is when my words play hide and seek. I’m in the middle of a sentence and I totally forget the word I want to use and begin searching for the word. The issue is while I’m feverishly seeking my word, there’s an awkward ass PAUSE in the discussion. This happens at work folks. In fact, it’s at its worst when I’m at work because I’m hyper-aware of it so my anxiety spikes whenever I have to speak. Good times man. Good times.
What I’m trying to explain is my creativity was a trade off, or at least it seemed to be. I was so lost in all the changes that I couldn’t find my way back to me. I couldn’t access the parts of myself that were safe. The parts of me that weren’t bipolar behavior. The meds muted me. Now, after 6 years I’ve finally found something that I thought the meds stripped away. I found my voice again and if you’re up for it, you’re going to read every word.
-The Comeback Kid
Oh, and I thought I’d share that I have a dope ass photo for this post but had issues uploading I didn’t let that stop me from doing what I’ve waited almost a decade to do.
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