More Active Imaginations

I’ve been doing Active Imagination on myself. I’ve done four trips into my unconscious, so far. And all were enlightening. The more I do it, the more I learn about the inner workings of my psyche. I do have to exercise caution as there exists the possibility that my psyche would shatter in these journeys. It is unguided, after all. Last thing I’d want to happen is that I’ll be stuck in my thoughts.

 

Here’s what I came up with in those times I did Active Imagination:

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Logical Emotions

I’ve been beholden to my phone for years now. I find myself most times absent-mindedly holding my phone for no reason at all aside from waiting for that next social media fix.

I’d be lying in bed, phone in hand, aimlessly scrolling through trivialities and nonsense and posts that I’d already seen multiple times. I distract myself. That is the objective.

 

I distract myself, oftentimes unconsciously, from the thoughts in my head. These are the same thoughts that I need to face head on. These are the thoughts that must be given my full attention at all times.

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Letting Go Of Ghosts

Battle Notes – February 14, 2017

 

As I’m typing this, the time is 9:09pm. Less than three hours until midnight. Less than three hours until I survive another Valentine’s Day.

 

But first, I have to apologize for the four month absence. Life has been, well…life. So many things have happened. Can’t even list them all down at this point. Need to focus on what I need to write.

 

Anyway…

 

This year’s Valentine’s is rougher than last year’s, no doubt. I was losing my shit again earlier. My breathing was compromised. Chest heavy. Felt like I was trapped in a prison I created for myself. But I know it’s my brain’s doing. It’s the depression’s doing. It’s that thing inside my head that was fucking with me again.

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The Seven Day War: A Week Without Medication

The Seven Day War: A Week Without Medication

I found myself in a very precarious position eight days ago. I had to go off my anti-depressants as I was to take anti-biotics for my cyst removal surgery. I had to go cold turkey as my hand was forced. Sort of. I did allow for it to happen so I had a hand in it. I was afraid. Very afraid. But I did want to see what would happen. I wanted to know if I was capable of surviving a week without medication.

 

On the days when I forget to take my meds, the stressors get the best of me. I lose my shit. For the first few days when I had to go off meds, everything was okay. “Okay” like I was still medicated. My body as going through physical withdrawals (i.e. dizziness, light headedness, lags) but nothing to be concerned about. I don’t think.

 

It was the lack of stressors and triggers that made those first few days…good. Sane, even. I was still in control of my thoughts. I did this “thought test” I do when the need to assess my mental situation arises. The test, albeit morbid as fuck, hasn’t failed me yet: I imagine myself holding my revolver with the intention to blow my brains out.

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A Month Away

Preface

Forgive the desolate tone of this blog post. It’s one of those weeks.

 

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Six months to a year. That’s what I was told when I asked how long I was to take the medications. Of course, that was just an optimistic estimate. But I still held on to that. “I’ll be fully recovered in a year,” I thought. “I’ll finally free of the darkness that made a home in my head.” I knew it would take much longer since I’ve had the depression undiagnosed and untreated for almost all my life. Let’s say, thirty one years. That’s thirty one years of darkness versus a year of recovery.

 

A year won’t cut it. Let’s be real, here. I knew that. I knew that it will take more than a year. But it was nice to think that after a year, I’ll be the me I should have been if it wasn’t for the depression.

 

In less than a month, it will have been a year since I started seeing a psychiatrist. It will have been a year since I’ve been taking anti-depressants. What’s changed since then? What’s happened since I first walked into the clinic?

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I Feel What You’re Going Through

I have a list of topics to blog/write about scrawled across the walls of the numerous rooms in my mind. Some have been swept away. Some have been replaced. Most have been forgotten.

I remembered one of the topics today after reading the news of BMX superstar Dave Mirra’s self-inflicted gunshot wound. I know of him from a skateboard / BMX video game I played in my youth. I remember playing his character. I remember doing the 360s and wheelies with his character.

I was reminded of the topic because of the nature of Mirra’s death. Suicide.

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