It’s time for your medicine

It’s morning. Take your pills.

Go to work and give it your all. We mean your all as in the all we expect to work tried and true. The all we need to make the numbers work.

It’s evening. Take your pills.

It’s always time for your medicine.

What happens when you don’t take your medicine? Well your body is going to scream either way- it wasn’t made to rely on little white pills… Your mind though, your mind will deceive you.

Does it really deceive me? Well perception is reality. And right now I believe that I am failing.

I’m not failing, because I have the right medication.

I’m failing. I’m not failing. We are doomed. There is hope.

When things get really bad, I always forget that it’s time for my medicine

“The doctors give the pills but the pills don’t have the will to take the pain outta the brain, they just make the brain insane.”

I have a love hate relationship with my need for medication.

I hate that I need it. But I love myself for accepting that I need it.

It’s ok to not be ok. And it’s ok to be ok.

Why don’t we talk about these things as they come? Why do we have such high standards for ourselves? We give so much more grace to those around us!

We aren’t even friends to ourselves. Because if I was my friend, I’d tell myself to stop dicking around and take my damn medicine like I know I need to. I’d say Chelsee, you are having a panic attack, and that’s ok. But take this medicine to dampen it. You’ll be able to breathe. And I’d trust me and listen to me.

It’s ok to need something, and it’s ok that it takes a while to find the right concoction. But take care of yourself. And listen to the still, quiet voice within you that does not scream profanities.. it feeds you words of strength, healing, and grace.

Tell those bad thoughts to go straight back to hell from which they came.

And to my readers- thank you for sticking through the up and downs. And thank you for the words of positivity that is often the lighthouse in my stormy sea. Much love to you all. You are not alone.

Wrong Eyes

I took your eyes to see myself as you see.
I depended no longer on the uncertainty from those which I was born with.
I felt beautiful and loved.
But what am I supposed to see now that I know it was she you were looking at?

How could she become me?