Whenever I decide it’s time to sit and write I just cannot seem to accomplish the task. Writing is one of my passions, except lately, I haven’t had any god damned passion for it. I always thought it’d be great to be paid to write, to write for a living. However, I think once something becomes a job (=work) , it isn’t rewarding anymore. So here I sit on my striped Ikea couch-bed, with my min pin sleeping in the small space between my back and the couch pillows.
My mind has been dull lately, I think due to my meds. When I do not take meds, my brain is zooming through the atmosphere and I am unable to focus or to sleep. Then I take my prescribed meds-as prescribed -(which I tend not to do) and life slows down. Too much. There are times when I am on the prescribed amount of mood stifling magic candy that I can sleep like a champ. I can stay in bed for a solid 10 or 12 hours. And then I face another problem: my brain energy is null. Navigating the space in between is the toughest part for moi. Finding the balance so that I may live a full, productive life is the goal.