I’m still alive.
A couple of days ago, I suddenly wondered if the followers of this blog (who are not my friends on Facebook or Twitter) think that I’ve done something drastic, like, ya know, kill myself. I have been writing about clinical depression and have suicidal tendencies, after all.
I’ve been meaning to post something since the two and a half week absence. A couple of somethings, actually. I never get to finish what I write. Either I suddenly get anxiety attacks or my mind’s too preoccupied with absolutely everything. I’m at that stage of my treatment where I’m feeling everything again. Even the smallest of things affect me now. I get these wild mood swings that comes out of nowhere.
What’s happening to me now, these rush of emotions, is good. I asked my doctor about it and she has the same conclusion. It means that I’m getting “better,” that I’m becoming “normal.” It does get overwhelming at times like last year, but what’s different now is that I’m more than equipped to handle them. I get to deal with what I feel much better. And when the influx of emotions gets too massive, I have the Xanax to calm me down and clear my head.
There’s something in my life right now that’s causing these rush of emotions. Someone, rather. She’s…I don’t even know how to describe her. Not at this very moment.
She’s special to me. Very. I tweeted this a couple of weeks back…
A thousand ways to destroy what’s left of my sanity and I chose the one that gives no quarter.
Falling in love.
That’s pretty much self-explanatory. I’ve never been good at emotions. Feelings. And with her, all these emotions – even those that aren’t caused by her – gets jumbled and rush in and… and it’s chaotic. My heart is open again. Is beating again. But she’s worth it. She’s worth all the emotional landslides. I’m just thankful that I’m in therapy now.
She knows about me. Knows about my depression and anxiety. I had to tell her, after all. She had to know what she was getting into. I even gave her an out. She stayed. She assumed the risk of being with someone who has clinical depression. Either she’s a masochist or she’s the bravest person I know. Hopefully the latter.
Anyway, on other fronts…
I’ve taken another hiatus on my photography. Needed to stay indoors as much as I can as I need to settle my credit card debts. With that hiatus, and coupled with the fact that my head’s in chaos, I felt myself losing the drive to photograph. I can’t even post-process my backlog of photos. Dangerous grounds, for sure. Happened years ago and it took me five years to recover.
It’s not to say that I’m uninspired. I still have all these ideas and concepts for shoots that I want to do. I still want to push through with the projects that I’ve had in mind. I just don’t have the drive to actually go through with them. I don’t know, maybe I just need to find that balance and that calm so I can organize everything in my head and in my life.
Perhaps that’s the next step that I have to take?