First time blogging...

    I stare at the choking sign that is posted above me in the dining  room of ward 5S. Then it comes to me - my ten years of depression, anxiety, periods of psychoses and drug addictions can all be described in this simple poster.




    Sometimes you cannot speak - maybe you just can't find the words. Sometimes you cannot breathe - like when you wake up in the morning and are petrified to start your day. And sadly, sometimes you cannot cough because hey, maybe you're just too screwed up on the medications your doctor gives out like, well, a drug dealer, that you can't even control a simple bodily function.

    So where do I begin? How can I gather the information needed from my past? How can I even begin to remember all the ups and downs? What brought me to this point?

    I can’t start at the beginning, because there is not a beginning.  Its actually like that song, “the circle of life." I can jump around a bit, hit each phase, each hospitalization, every sexual encounter… I guess we can explain our lives in each little phase we go through, but don’t they all tie into eachother? Doesn’t one lead to the next?

    A few monthes ago my life was so different, then I again I could’ve said that about 7,007 times throughout my short 22 years of life. I was doing pretty well after I was released from Austen Riggs two years ago... Released is a funny word, I figure it could also mean asked to leave because I continually rebel against authority  I still cringe thinking about that place... Funny, it seems I will once again be venturing back there come tuesday...

    So throughout these past few months, I lost my job, my parents respect, bank of america's respect and well, my sanity– nothing too tragic. People love that though… they love substance in a girl, almost as much as they love substances. And that is exactly what my past few months have consisted of...

     So as I sit here longing to step outside - A place I cannot venture to.. here's the truth... I have been so out of touch with reality that I honestly could not tell you if what I have gone through is biological, chemical, environmental, or my own damn fault.  
    When the party is on everything seems alright; but, when you finally stop and are laying in bed alone, you truly felt alone. 
    I am lost. I am alone.

    My fun was over now, My life as I now know it, is over. It's time to put my big girl leggings on. Its time to "take control of my treatment." The question is, can I do it?