#willow is crazy

[thebestworstidea]

talking to my therapist and like

"No, my emotions do whatever the fuck they want and I just work with it. I mean I can feel things but that doesn't need to affect the way I act."

[thebestworstidea]

just... really need to be told that I’m smart and capable and helpful and resourcefull- things that I am, and I know I am, but kind of near to hear other people say.

[thebestworstidea]

I just want

a little attention

I cannot help this.

[thebestworstidea]

The thing about mental health is it isn’t something you do once

One visit to the therapist is going to be mostly questions, not answers. One dose of medication isn’t going to do much.

It’s not a switch.

It’s something that you have to do, over and over again, like a habit.

They say that insanity is doing the same thing over and over again and expecting a different result.

strangely enough, that’s what mental health is.

Making a decision, or many decisions, time after time. Choosing to better, to think differently to do or not do something that harms you.

These aren’t things that only come up once. You’ll face them down time after time after time, until you’re left with just a vague feeling of ‘this again?’

And some days it’s easy, and some days it’s hard, and some days, the ones you don’t even notice, it isn’t even there for once, inconspicuous in it’s absence.

But it is what it is, and even if you fail- forget your medication forget your good habits forget your support network is there you can try again. it’s not glamorous. there’s no glory, no guarantee of winning in the end. 

but you can always try again.

[thebestworstidea]

I really want to be drawing, but instead I’m staring into the distance with my brain going

‘AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA’

so.

it’s not working so well.

[thebestworstidea]

I'm working on a huge project. Well, I'm not this afternoon, because it's raining and carpentry in the rain isn't the best combination.

We've been wrecked this year, run straight out, no time, no energy no money. I put this off for the entire month of june because I was ttoo depressed to contemplate power tools.

But it needs to get done and soon, so I spent most of yesterday preparing the base- which involved drilling about eighteen holes in a steel frame and cutting wood to fit, then screwing down plywood.

Now, you may not know this about me, but I am not allowed to measure shit.

(cut for rambling story with no punchline and a bit of whining)

No matter how many times I check, and recheck, and remeasure and re check, I will get it wrong. fabric, wood, foam it doesn't really matter the material, if I have to cut it, I will have measured it wrong. I try to get it to be too big, because it's eaiser to trim something than splice some in, but please imagine how much wood I was cutting and trimming.

And I was doing this by myself, because I do mean the entire family. Medical problems and depression all around.

I was good, I'd asked for help, explained exactly the help I needed, and asked the best person in the house for it.

and of course she said yes. but my mother is very distractable, so she tends to move from task to task as she sees them. She is also has a problem with games like solitaire, or other simple puzzles. She will just loose a day, listening to commentary and playing solitaire.

I'd woken her up, said what I wanted to get done today, reminded her that she said she'd help, and went out to work on what I could, until my teleheath appointment came which is exactly as fun as it sounds. (how's it going? Weil my hands no longer shake so hard I cry, and I'm not unduly anxious, but I'm eating about one and a half meals a day because I'm just not usually hungry, and I'm exhausted all the time, but that's the CFIDS, I don't think a cpap will help me sleep better.)

anyhow, that ended out and I stopped crying, just in time to hear movement downstairs. ''AH!" I thought, my mother is moving, let's do it.

no. My sister had PT (see this year has SUCKED.)

So. I cried a little (I was kneeling in front of the door sobbing and shaking on my knees, where I had gone as they left.)

And went back to work. If I wasn't going to get help, t still needed to be done. I worked hard all afternoon, until mother came home with Kat after PT and a brief shopping trip. 'Didn't you want help with that?' uh yes, but you are exhausted from driving and shopping and the groceries need to get put away. I can't ask you to do it now.

So she starts doing that, and it takes a while. I don't know why it takes so long. Then she sits down and makes a sandwich to eat.

meanwhile, I am again alone ankle deep in poison ivy, saw dust, and metal dust.

I decide that I clearly have done something wrong, because no one actually helps me, ever. I'm just not important enough. I'm forgettable. I don't deserve it, or I would get it (See re: that psychologist appointment. I'm trying okay)

So I try to keep working, and I'm crying and then, I can almost hear my father's voice (He has been dead for over Twenty years now and I... okay, I'm gonna need a minute) So I practicly hear his voice and can plainly picture his smile and tostled mad scientist hair. What says of course is

'There's no crying in wood shop!' Like Tom Hanks in a League of their own. And then I got the image just as strong of him pulling me into a hug and holding me until I stopped crying.

well I can't hallucinate that hard, so I kept trying to smile at the sillnens and not cry, and then mother comes out and 'Didn't you want help?'

yes but it hasn't come.

So then she helps me with the last couple cuts. It surprises no one that when she measures, the numbers come out right, but it I say 'oh I think it's a little shorter' than that to boards are wrong. Again not allowed to measure stuff.

We finally stop because my power tools batteries need to be charged.

and then it started raining.

But I just want to hold on to that snarky beautiful moment that made me think of my father

[thebestworstidea]

the thing with my mental illness is that it's in my head.

Just all the time, screaming and yelling and crying and rending at my mind and clothes. I just. it's so loud. But I'm quiet. It all takes place inside. I'm so tired. I'm safe. I'm not going to hurt myself or anyone else. Well physically, pretty sure this tension is hurting me internally.,

But I hear about other people and I know it's not a competition but they have it so much worse. They can't keep it inside. They're hurting outloud. They need help. If I can keep it inside, I guess I'm not as bad off. I can just wait to see if there's anything left for me.

But It hurts. and the thing is, I've seen it, there's nothing anyone can do, even for the people who hurt outloud.

And the cost of not doing that seems to be at the price of not doing anything.

[thebestworstidea]

From the Mind that Brought you: "You're only as liked as you're useful."

and

"Can't Complain No one Would Listen."

we bring you:

"If I don't feel sorry for myself who will?