I felt like this today. You don’t need to hear about the numbness, excruciating pain, overwhelming anxiety, residual anxiety, paranoia, dizziness or that I prayed to whomever was listening to just end it. Fucking end the ridiculous, relentless, ad nauseam, non-sensical hours that consume my days. Frankly it’s wearing me down, ripping me to shreds and fucking exhausting fighting invisible monsters. Yes, I know I’m sick. Yes, I understand tapering off benzos is
I never cared much about looking back when I was young. I could not wait to leave this house, this town get out and experience stuff. You know the obstinate dreamer looking for bold adventure. It worked. I ran. I ran fast and far, and kept running. That’s the funny thing about developing a serious illness, you are forced to re-prioritize. Becoming insane in the middle of Manhattan did not bode well for me
“As an artist do I need constant flux to create? How will I find words in the woods surrounded by trees and rotten cornfields? How will I find anything besides dying, wet leaves? I cannot escape the volume in my head, the constant churning. The Jesus fucking Christ, turn it down chatter. I have been told to be patient. Wait for the drugs, the quieting veil, and the lavender
i remember this place. a traditional Italian family lived here. the smell of meatballs and homemade sauce overpowered your senses inviting you in. lace doilies adorned the kitchen table. plastic pride covered the furniture. linens hung on the clothesline signaling sweet smells of Spring. the barn was once a Soda Pop warehouse, Liberty Beverage. the family is gone now, mom and dad died packing up their stories for a different
I have to remind myself to walk away from the hate multiple times a day when frustration gets too heavy, life bears down too hard. Living is torture even when one is ridiculously happy. Living consumed by hate, the ugliest impossibility. The sun is a billion years dead and gone, yet she shines so warm and glorious. I’m going to bask in the light of the sun. I bought three gemstone rings
“It all comes back to a red metal bench in the woods, on a small hill by a nothing special pond. The air is sweet and wet and fall is here for now. Ducks sleep near the brisk, damp water waiting to take flight to sunnier places, offering no solution. I shiver and squirm in my own discomfort, clenching the bench, determined to will myself better. I’ll sit there god damn it, I’m as stubborn as you, until there is something to look forward to. I’m not pretending rosy and cheery just maybe a hint of curiosity.
The Vast Landscape has a place in the heart, all its own. Never. quit. your. dreams. A touching, humbling reader comment. ‘Jackie~ for quite some time I thought you were the main character in your well written book, full of emotion. I know now you are not but perhaps bits are you ! WOW! The intense sensitivity throughout the middle of the book brought me to tears several times. (and
I wrote The Vast Landscape, mostly to stay alive. Because I HATE the word BiPolar and all it has taken, not only from me but those I loved madly. I wrote. When the bad thoughts came, I wrote. When the velocity in my brain was too much, I wrote. When I was curled in a ball screaming, sobbing on the kitchen floor, I wrote. The Vast Landscape is my truth