My brain has come a long way. From going through childhood, being on the receiving end of many collisions against my skull, too finally coming to acceptance of one of the most rare psychological diseases known.
But coming to terms with my illness was not straight path.
I found myself at whitts end at 4 am in a nearby parking lot. The view, be it magnificent, was not the topic of the morning. No, the topic of the morning was the medication I had been prescribed. This horrid villainous, doctor had put me on a whopping dose of antipsychotics that, in my brain, in the long run, would ruin me. Nothing was changing my mind, these drugs were slowly killing me and sucking the energy from being.It was time to make an important decision: Was I going to endure the unknown of skipping my neuroleptics or would I stay on the course and take the prescription? This was an answer only I could give. This is what I went through, with my brain.
To come to an answer, I would need to look at what I have done in my life; Use hindsight in that brain of mine. So here it goes,
For the people I hurt while manic, I'm sorry. I truly am. I loose myself in my heightened feelings of self-worth and forget how precious our relationship is to me. To my ex that supported me up until I broke up with you after feeling like you were worthless, I'm sorry. To my parents who have always supported me financially and gave me a place to live while growing up, and then for some more as an adult, I'm sorry for all the worry and back & forth I put you through. For my professional care team that has been with me since 2016, and kept up with my "back", "forth", "up", and "down", I'm sorry for being such a hassle. To my body: I'm sorry for putting you through the sleepless nights until exhaustion and the extreme workouts that in the end, I did not need to put myself through. For my followers, I apologies for glorifying mental illness and the powers that I make it seem to give me. This is what I feel, with my brain
Getting to a point of relief is my goal. Getting to a point where I can look back at what I have made, with my brain, is what I want to do in the future. Maybe moving to the city will change the way my brain is, and make me into a different person; I'm sure it would. That would be so dope, finding myself a place to live in the city and making myself like a canvas; a piece of art. Although the city doesn't love me back, and that I know. That, I know. This is what I think of, with my brain