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.

On Feeling Lost

I have been so overwhelmed. This week alone has felt like it’s own month. I have been working so hard, but I don’t feel like I’ve achieved or accomplished anything. I feel like I’m wandering around.

I realize that I’ve reached goals, and now I’m out of important goals. Out of the things I can change. I hate feeling like my fate is in someone else’s hands.

I hate feeling so lost and confused. I hate this dark abyss. I feel like I’m just treading water. Pleading with myself. Don’t give up, you’ll drown! But you get tired trying to stay afloat, trying to not sink.

I’m bloody lost and tired.

Fear of forsaken forevers

Unless you’ve heard that door slam and the emptiness that follows, you’ll never understand. You’ll never understand the fear.

But I promise to love you every day, in every way.

Yes, the terrors of abandonment, forsaken forevers, wake me up at night.

Maybe I’ll always fear.

Maybe that’s not so bad, really.

I’ll always savor you like the rarity you are. The once in a lifetime person you are.

The way your chest rises and falls when you sleep. How your eyes sparkle when you speak. How your eyes crinkle, your dimples show when you laugh. How my soul makes sense and I feel at home in your laughter, amidst the chaos.

The way your calloused hands caress my face, as soft as a whisper.

The way you hold me when my world is falling apart.

Yes, maybe one day I will fail you. Maybe some apocalyptic hellish nightmare of a day that door would slam and only silence will follow suit with the empty.

But maybe, just maybe, I will acknowledge my fears. Instead of drowning me, drowning our love, they will shine light into the darkness of the unknown.

No matter what, I will always thank you, I will always cherish you, I will always choose you. I will always love you. YOU you, the real you. The messy you. The you that was broken, too, when you chose to let me in. The one who shares fears, too.

I will thank you for every normal, boring day. And I will always be thankful for the irrational anger that is greeted with an exasperated eye roll and nothing more.

And I will always thank you for every time you walked me back off a ledge. For every time you brought me back home from far away worlds. Every hypothetical “what if” you talk me through, every heartbreak you hold me through. Every time you tell me I am more than enough. Every time you fight my demons off when I am too tired to do so. Every time you love me, when I do not love myself.

And every time I open my eyes, I will love you. I will choose you.

I promise.

Overflowing, overwhelmed

Weight on shoulders, depress, oppress, suppress

Anxiety in laughter, wrapped around my throat – it won today. It successfully overwhelmed its vessel.

My knees hit the ground like an ultimatum

Lists overwhelming my mind, my ability

Failures singing like the birds in the trees, never silenced

Fear like shackles on my wrists and ankles

Anxiety fogging my mind, overwhelming my senses.

The debris and destruction surrounding me. It is a fact, I’m on the ground.

The smoke rising like protestations

Muscles straining like it’s a physical fight, I stand

One foot in front of the other

Sun peaks through the dust and smoke, I depend on you

For now, I fear, I fail, I fall, and falter. But every fight has a victor and victim.

I never liked the taste of being a victim.

My knees may shake, but I will always get back up.

I have too much depending on me to give up.

If Mirrors Could Talk

What if mirrors could tell the stories of what they’ve seen?

Would they tell us to change toothpaste? Or that it’s long past time to change that toothbrush head?

Would they tell us that our hair looks fine to the left or right and that that one piece will just never sit right?

Would they tell us that yes we HAVE had too much to drink? And scream that we CANNOT drive?

Would they tell us that even though we don’t recognize ourselves that they do?

Would they call us out for not being able to look ourselves in the eyes?

Would the tell of the self hatred screamed at them?

Would they tell us that they’ve seen us cry, and we deserve better than we accept for ourselves?

Would they tell us that the mountains we have been carrying were only meant to be climbed?

If mirrors could talk would they tell stories of the years gone by? Would they tell us about how we should be appreciative of those wrinkles, scars, and bags?

Would they tell us that “The mirror is not you. The mirror is you looking at yourself”?

“You’re stressing me out”

I can’t even fathom how many times this has been said to me… When did society evolve into one where any emotion other than happy-go-lucky or lust were considered distasteful?

I’m sorry if my sadness stresses you out. I’m sorry if I’m killing your vibe…….. actually no, no I’m not. Go screw yourself. Why do you feel the need to force happiness in everyone all the time? Do I remind you of your repressed feelings? Does seeing me like this hit too close to home for you?

Depression as deep and vast as the seas storms.

The moment I feel despair creeping up onto me like an unwanted, uninvited, house guest in my head I shut down. I go into task mode trying to ignore the whispers that turn into tortured screams in my head.

Brush hair. Brush teeth. Take off clothes. Step into shower. Turn knob. Soap on sponge. Lather. Bubbles. Wash feet. All the while dreading the despair crawling up my back and onto the nape of my neck. Feels like a guillotine. Hollow, abdicated from responsibilities that ensure survival.

– You upset and stress every person you interact with. Everything you touch turns to shit. Look, now you’re failing at the things that only you could do well. You literally cannot do anything right. You’re failing. YOU ARE A FAILURE. You let down anyone who loves you. They deserve better. You can’t go a single day without doing something wrong. Why would anyone want to stay around you? Hell, even your own father left. Your friends don’t even really like you. You are an irritant to them. You are a shitty friend, how can it even be possible to be this bad at being a friend? They will easily replace you if they haven’t already. They deserve better. You bring no value to anything or anyone. STOP TALKING YOU ONLY MAKE IT WORSE WHEN YOU TALK. You aren’t the only one who is going through stuff, stop victimizing yourself. Why do you even bother trying? You’ll fail. You’re weak. –

Wash face. Wash hair, paying close attention to each individual strand… pretend you don’t hear it, don’t feel it. Pretend you don’t feel like you suddenly have a black hole within you.

It’ll pass.

It’s not true. None of it is true.

It’ll pass.

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Are you stressed out now?