My body is not my own. I wish it were again. It’s been taken over by a relentless chemical imbalance in my head. That’s what I’m told, anyway. That’s why I get so depressed I want to die OR I take different meds and have nervous, energy-filled legs, arms, and hands. Someone plugged me into an outlet.
I remember when my body was my own to control. Eat well, and it showed. Exercised and I glowed.
I’m held captive in a vessel with an underside injury. Not really sinking, but taking on water and needing a bucket to bail the salty liquid now and then. My paint is chippy, and my sail is tattered around the edges, but still I sail. I vaguely remember days when I was new, shiny, had crisp sails, and was sleek. No faded sails and deep scratches, like now. I enjoyed being new, but mostly, I liked that I was strong and could ride the rough seas.
New medicines are pulsing through my body right now. An antidepressant and a mood stabilizer. I’m energetic, yet feel too “wired.” This morning at 3:00, I was fully awake and moving furniture around in my living room. The desk looks better here. No, it has to go there.
I only got 4 hours of sleep. I cried a little a bit ago. Just a frustrated cry. A “why me” cry. Then, I took a Xanax to calm my energized body and mind. Really, though, why me? Why anyone?
I dislike being a victim, martyr, or a complainer (well, maybe I complain too comfortably), but life at the presrent time has me in a storm. My boat is tossing a bit too much for comfort. I feel out of control of my own stability.
I suppose I was never really in control in the first place.