I can’t say that I’m happy all the time these days… I don’t think that would be very realistic. What I can tell you, though, is I’ve felt a 100% improvement since I began taking my medication regularly again. It’s not like it makes me any smarter or it gives me super powers or anything (though it would be cool if it did), but I feel more like the way I like myself to be more than before. I’m not as scared and I feel less bogged down, even though I’m taking on even more responsibilities than before.
I have the feeling in my mind that I want to express myself. I’ve been trying a variety of things… drawing, sewing — I even learned how to knit yesterday! For some reason, though, I keep coming back to writing.
A few days ago, I went through all my old journal entries from two years ago. Though they’re less polished, less thought out than some of my more recent entries… they have something that my newer entries are lacking. Perhaps it’s the lack of obligation… perhaps it was the fact that friends didn’t used to read. Maybe just grew up. I can’t tell.
What I do know is that my habit for writing isn’t going to give up that easily. My fingers still twitch, eager to spill my thoughts — though, these days I don’t have much to complain about (which has always been a big topic in the past, in case you didn’t know)… But I’m sure I’ll eventually find another writing niche that I enjoy.
Until then, you’ll just have to deal with reading about my daily goings-ons.
