Since writing my first post, the question of WHY has been bouncing around in my thoughts endlessly. Why do I now, have this overwhelming urge to tell my story, even if no one ever reads or listens to it. For years I’ve been try my utmost best to avoid thinking, talking, not even considering writing about an awesome, but equally fucked-up 31 years of existence.
The terrifying memory comes to mind of finding myself in a mental institution (hence forth, clinic…) for the first time, and being told that I have to produce a minimum of 10 pages called a Life Story, and read it to a group who will have the opportunity to judge the performance based on content, sincerity and what not. The weird setup and judgement I could deal with, but the fact that I had to play back my entire life from birth, and pen down everything that I thought had an impact on me was a whole new level of torture. I hated the exercise, is like saying, “well this rape is uncomfortable…”
Point being, now suddenly, I feel like I wish people wouldn’t shy away when they see my scars. A possible answer might be two fold. I’m emotionally strong enough to wander through my memories and just observe them (thanx mindfulness) without getting sucked into some or other worm whole that ends in disaster. So it’s a new adventure, and since being of the meds*, my memory seem to function a hell of a lot better. The second option might be when I started thinking that I’ve seen so many broken people, myself included, tried every available avenue; holistic, scientific and everything home remedy you can imagine…I want my story to have been told. As I’m writing this, I’m thinking, isn’t that just a natural human instinct almost, to want to have your story told, at least by yourself. Why people drew on walls before they could talk or write?
Whatever the reason, this story is going to get told, even if it comes out making no sense to anyone but me. I’ve experienced the discomfort caused by too much wine and talking about hospitals and institutions to friends, so clearly a social environment is not the place. Hence, I find myself here, and what a liberating space!
I think moving forward, I’m going to try the traditional structure of starting at the beginning 🙂
*As of about 18 months ago I made the rash decision to stop taking all my meds (Epilum, Lamictan, Cilift, Convulex, Olexar – I think that’s the whole list, excluding Venlafaxine). Then shit hit the fan 3 days later and I found out that I wasn’t in fact going crazy again, but I was experiencing severe withdrawal from Venlafaxine. So, I’m off everything expect my Venlor and to be honest, I’m very happy taking it.