I jolted out of bed (aka my couch) at 7 am, 2 hours before my alarm was set, thinking about Chelsea Kwoka. I laughed and went back to sleep. I woke up again at 8ish to Chicken standing on my stomach with a toy in her mouth. She’s fucking relentless. I was able to doze back off til about 8:30. So I am writing this earlier than 9 am but I did set an alarm for 10 minutes.
I woke up grateful to have fallen asleep. It was nearly 3am but none the less, I slept! I remember Chelsea talking about small wins and I am now actually quite proud of myself for having woken up. Waking up is a win, right? The alternative being having been up already. Not death. Wow Amanda, its 9:00am and you're already talking about death? I am realizing now that I feel a weird pressure for this to be “good”. It has been a very long time since I wrote anything. I do miss writing. I love writing. But i kind of hate this. I am pushing away thoughts right now- telling myself not to write them down- but this is supposed to be a vomit of internal dialogue so here we go. I am clinically depressed. Yesterday was the first day out of the nearly 1 month deep murky fog of depression. What follows my depression is 1 to 4 days of Mania. My heart doesn’t stop pounding, my mind doesn’t stop reeling, my body forgets to communicate with my brain and I end up not sleeping for 48 hours, not eating for days, not completing simple every day tasks like showering, brushing my teeth, leaving my house. I do however become an incredible house wife- deep cleaning. Scrubbing the grout in the bathroom with my toothbrush I couldn’t otherwise find a use for. Cleaning behind and under my stove and refrigerator. Some times I am not conscious in the mania of the mania until it’s blatant or it’s 3 days later or once my body goes into shock of not having been in the daylight or once I realize i havent spoken to a human person in days. I was in mania Wednesday night into Thursday and challenged myself to D O N O T H I N G . Because my body couldn’t expel the energy, my mind was on fire. I couldn’t stop my self from talking out loud 500 miles a minute. I remember, after maybe 25 minutes of monologuing, that my brain had stopped listening, my body wasn’t responding to anything I was saying but my mouth was forming sentences. It was a weird exorcism. And, my 10 minute timer went off. Fuck. This was hard. I want to write for another hour. But alas… Chelsea Kwoka.
Off to celebrate this win with a fucking Acai Bowl.
S I D E N O T E :
I will be in Big Bear this weekend and might not be able to post my journal entries but I will do them and post them when I get back to LA on Sunday night! If I do have wifi, I will post them on time <3