I am scared. Shitless.

Putting myself out here like this, and actually having people read it and follow along is one of the scariest things I have ever done. I am throwing my life up on a billboard. Every crazy day of it. Even the bad ones.

Like today.

I often find myself living life stuck inside of my own head. Be it from the depression that has these constant circling thoughts that question why I’m even trying to do these things and “am I really good enough?”, or be it in the form of living another life inside my head. One that takes all of my favorite parts from my favorite books and compiles them into a special safe place just for me to live while I spend the rest of my days physically in bed.

Yes, I have medication to help with all of this. Yes, I take it every.single.goddamned.day. And yes, it is still not enough.

Taking an antidepressant doesn’t mean that all of my symptoms just magically go away. Taking a mood stabilizer doesn’t guarantee that I won’t have my manic highs and depressive low swings. Nothing is a guarantee. These are all things I have to work on myself. Does it mean it will all go away one day if I work hard enough? While that’s a lovely thought, no. It doesn’t. It also doesn’t mean I haven’t tried.

While I know I have these swings and all the other crap my brain concocts, when I have a string of really good days, it’s hard to remember that the bad days will come at some point again. And when they come, the remembrance is all too harsh.

I’m not necessarily scared of my brain…I mean, I am…but, I’m more scared of putting it out there. Putting it down on paper, leaving it online for anyone to find. Previous receptiveness of my work has been very mixed, and that’s a hard lurking feeling to let go of.

So, every.single.goddamned.day. I have to get up, and realize that I’m doing this for me. Yes, I’m scared shitless. But yes, I’m going to do this anyway.

(blackout poetry has been a huge outlet for me lately: "The Death of Siegfried")