This shit is intense. Cost me like $5 at Vitamin Shoppe. I add in equal parts apple cider vinegar, mix to a paste, and apply from my face down to my chest. You literally feel your face pulsate. My skin looks brighter and clearer, after. My nose looks like I used a Biore strip. It’s fantastic. I wouldn’t do it more than once a week.
I feel lost in the world at the moment, and it’s strangely comforting. There’s a certain thrill associated with not knowing what’s next. For a few weeks I was planning, exercising, monitoring. This past week I was scheduled to work so many days, I threw on my “fuck it” shoes & stomped through each day, recklessly. I never know if I’m okay with living day to day, or if I want to be confined to my responsibilities. But, alas, I know who I am. I know what’s wrong with me. I know what I’m dealing with. I’ve done the research, read the books, and no matter how I may aim to convince myself that having an untreated hormonal imbalance isn’t going to hold me back for the rest of my life it is. I’ve written about this shit for months, as if accepting that it was there would do the bulk of the work for me. It’s so much deeper than that. There’s a stigma associated with mentally unsound individuals, and I admit that I too subscribe to those preconceived ideas. It’s not easy for me to admit that basically, my mind is sick. That I guaranteed *need* therapy. That if I don’t pop little pills every day, I might break up with my boyfriend or randomly decide to quit my job. I’ve known nothing but mood swings, broken friendships, and failed attempts at achieving goals for twenty plus years. I was even emotional as a child. It’s trippy to think that my body has been secreting sadness and hopelessness in excess. Even more trippy is the fact that this is the exact thing that has made me inept at saving myself…
There are a few other elements to this whole hormones thing that really throw me for a loop. Like the fact that even though my happy days are obviously easier, I identify more with the emotions and decisions I make while in states of panic and distress. I find the most clarity in my rage. Those are the emotions that inspire me to create, and where my poetry is often born. I’m somewhat afraid of losing my passion in an attempt to regulate my hormones…
And that’s where I am this rainy Sunday.
Wepa!
Doctor’s orders.
Doing that corny marvel at my shoes thing.
No days off.
Señora Libertad.
OMG.
Home.
