“Brain Fire” is what I call being syptomatic of my various mental health diagnosi.
I resent that I have any diagnosis.
I resent that I am compelled to label myself.
I resent that I am encouraged to conform the magnitude of my feelings into a socially acceptable and easily digestible expressions.
When I am syptomatic, my brain is on fire. The world feels louder, smells stronger and I feel deeper. I know and trust that I am not the first to go through these motions.
However, the simple tasks of maintaining a life… seem overwhelming at times.
I was triggered today when a relative said “if you were living in the real world- it wouldn’t be pretty. If I wasn’t shielding you, you wouldn’t make it”.
I wanted to scream fuck you and cry hot tears at the same time.
Am I not in the real world? How am I the villain for someone elses actions? How do they know my experience isn’t hellish?
Anyways, I shared that I didn’t like how that comment made me feel and the conversation resolved to an okay result. There had been a miscommunication, hurt feelings and chronic pain that exarcerbated the issue.
Still though, I felt persecuted. (which I realize is much to strong of a word in relation for the actions that happened- but it’s the most accurate descriptor for me).
I want more energy.
I want more lightness.
I want more money.
There are paintings that sell for millions… MILLIONS of dollars.
I want that level of affluence.
Yet, I am feeling frayed and dismayed… Tomorrow is another day to shift my state. To clean, to renew, to refresh and reset.
