Musings From the Sanitarium

I am home in this dream. Not sure which home but I am surrounded by family. My little sister shows up decked out in scarves and handmade writings of "BLM" and "End Police Violence" on her skin. She looks ready for war. I am proud that she is participating. I look to my right and see my older sister dressed in similar fashion. When did she change clothes? I just saw her a couple of minutes ago looking ready to host a family gathering and now she is covered in scarves. I look to her and say "You're going too?" No words spoken but a look of yes. Now, I'm thinking why was I not invited? The pain of not being invited or being left out takes over. I gather food that I was eating and head to a bedroom to cry and rage in private. I see myself throwing things, screaming expletives at walls until my sisters walk in to see what's going on. I continue yelling, screaming hateful words at them, and crying. I notice hands clinched with balls of hair from pulling in fits of rage.

I dread that time. The alarm on my watch goes off to remind me to take my daily dose of prescribed sanity.

I don't remember my first experience starting this drug having side effects. Thirty minutes after swallowing and I feel a build up of acid in my stomach. My digestive system begins it's dance of rejection. Nausea, diarrhea.

If you've seen the 70s version of A Star is Born, you probably weren't too excited about this recent remake. However, I started to watch trailers, music videos and read articles today.

I know the story and the tragic death of the male protagonist but I was not ready for it to trigger my own issues with alcohol, drugs, depression and suicidal thoughts.

Fall is near.

All i can think about is warm, rainy nights.

I was asked to speak at an event yesterday. I am thinking "Great. This person is awesome. Introducing a political candidate is a piece of cake". But, that is not what happened. My skin started to heat up. My mind is racing. I stumble over my words to respond. Hello, Ms. Social Anxiety. This bitch always shows up at the wrong damn time. She hangs around long enough for me to decline and to be saved by another person who volunteers to speak.

After the relief, comes the shame. I feel like a coward. A failure. I am not doing my part in the community. I am all talk on social media but can't use my voice when it counts.