#keeping sane

[reiinuko]

Contemplating approches

[thequotehaven]

What kept me sane was knowing that things would change, and it was a question of keeping myself together until they did.

Nina Simone, I Put a Spell on You: The Autobiography of Nina Simone

[goatsmell]

Isolated Joy

It is a great accomplishment

To crack my own spine

Hard enough to feel it

Rattle the jelly in my eyes

And see the cat start awake

All the way across the room

[saxiquine]

Keeping sane with long walks in nature during these Crazy times...

[fromscratchmom]

Watch "Keeping Sane: Bret Speaks with Neil Oliver" on YouTube

Brilliant!

[andyqby19]

retreat

i retreat into my bubble to protect myself from all that is going on. i am a part of life yet distant. my mind blocks out what it cannot handle letting in only the things that make me smile and keep me sane

View On WordPress

[safety-in-straitjackets-blog]

Discord For DID/MPD Systems

Hello, My name is Ely, I am one of 11 in the Belladonna System. I wanted to create a place for all systems to belong and meet others like themselves. 

If you are interested, just shoot me a message! I’ll talk to you for a little bit and send you the link. Thank you for reading.

~The Belladonna System

[mrdeadpirate-blog]

Tumbling Further

My eyes ached, red-eyed and weary. Crying was not my job, nor one I desired. Tears flowed and joined the endless waterfall of ocean puns in my previous paragraph. Not only would we not sea the end of puns, but well-timed always awful albeit adorable alliterations as well.

There were stories that fought for dominance in my mind. The accusations of former bosses shouted down my novel. OCD ran my scripts through to ribbons. Anxiety thought it had the final nail for my short stories. So, I write, blank minded. Trudging through words and letters in hopes of magic. Seeking out that relief my worn-eyes and shouting sore throat couldn’t give me.

But what to write about? If my soul was preoccupied with my current adversaries, unemployment and mental illness, perhaps just writing about that would help. Here I am, shouting into the void again, yelling my hopes and prayers. What will be my next step? What will make me happy? Where do I go from here?

Maybe one has to truly be crazy to expect age old questions to be answered by a cacophony of voices. They are the swarm, the posters, the movie-makers, the artists. All wish for their song to be heard above the rest. A feeding frenzy of creative arts fighting for dominance. What use is it to sound out a tiny measly bit of writing?

This piece is for me. There is no other purpose. I wring my hands of words so that my sanity will return to me. My usual medications are to of no avail, they still don’t drown out the voices of my failures. Or are they successes? At least the demons that come from my own brain are certainly celebrating, and they are me as much as I am them.

I strike out against them. I keep my nose to the grindstone, an outdated term that is lost on most, that I am unsure of it’s proper use. There will be no “rest” until this nightmare has ended.