I’m not okay.

Again and again and again, I find myself writing these words. I’ll get a little better, and then I’ll get a lot worse. My mental health is deteriorating so quickly and I don’t know how to salvage what’s left. I can’t afford therapy or medication. I’m too fucking depressed to go outside and get fresh air. Half the time I’m either neglecting my kids completely or yelling at them because my anxiety manifests in uncontrollable outbursts of rage, and I feel like a shitty parent so then I just feel worse. And then the loop continues.

I don’t know what to do any more. I don’t talk about my problems any more because talking doesn’t make me feel better. It makes me pissed that I can’t change things. So I just keep it all bottled up and it’s wearing me down in a bad way.

I’m not okay. And I’m getting increasingly worse.

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One thought on “I’m not okay.

  1. I hope you’re feeling a bit better now. I understand; I was completely bipolar at your age. I was lucky, it was the time of the hippies and a friend gave me some Owsley acid, it reset my personality. According to a recent piece in The Guardian, “K” might help.

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