My Peculiar Orchestra and Learning to Give Myself Credit

A few minutes after I took my medication last night, I began to hallucinate. It grew very loud and chattery. I noticed the narration a lot more. Nothing was real. Instead, I felt that I was a mere observer of a well-written film. I could not get the narrator to stop speaking. As we walked from her car to her apartment complex, my body shifted back and forth like sand being pushed and pulled from the ocean. I felt very fuzzy.

The voices came back vociferously, weaving in between the ridges and pockets of my delirium. I quietly tucked my body beneath the safe waves of blankets and pillows in an attempt to silence them.

Before the return of my peculiar orchestra, I was at my grandmother’s house, dropping my dogs off. My cousin will be watching them until I officially move in the weekend. We had dinner together whilst enjoying a good episode of Intervention. I spent some time with my grandma as well. She has cleared a lot of space for my belongings and such, which is nice. I’m looking forward to staying there.

All of this sudden change is really, really getting to me. I’m having dreams of failing and panic attacks. Although, I suppose I should be giving myself more credit; I’m not turning to drugs or alcohol. I’m not caving in (although emotionally, I’ve introverted, most certainly) and letting the stress consume me. I’m asking for help, which is something I usually have a hard time with. I’m making it work. I’ve come a long way and I’m still improving. Instead of sulking in the darkness, I am actively finding resources to cheer myself up. I know I’m going to be okay.

After all of this, I think I’m going to take myself to karaoke and sing my little heart out.


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