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XOXO, Apnea
When I let things get to me they really get to me bad. The worst is when all of my senses become magnified. The normal sound of the fan swinging around will keep me awake until the sun comes up and the smallest bit of moonlight shining through the small cracks of the blinds will look like clear beams of light running across the room, almost like a flashlight was being shined in. It only used to take half of a sleeping pill but lately that just cuts the anxiety enough for me to be able to get up to go to the bathroom. Last night I was so scared as I walked down the hallway that I had to turn on every light switch as I walked past it. When I made it to the bathroom I looked in the mirror and scared myself so bad I almost fell over. My eyes were dark and I looked like I had been possessed by fear. The funny thing is earlier I had edited a girl's photos and her eyes had looked so heavy in a way I wasn't used to seeing. Then I remembered she had just broken up with her boyfriend and had moved out of their house, maybe she was filled with fear too and that's why our eyes looked so similar at that moment.
I know where the fear is coming from. I have recently gone through every set on my site and seeing it really affected me. I have no emotional attachment to any of it, it's not that. It's the writing from the set descriptions when I first started, and shooting the sets I shot just for "content". At a chair. By a window. At a chair in front of a window. Same bed, same pose, same makeup. The set descriptions sound so bad to me that I haven't even been able to update a blog because I couldn't get those words out of my head. I could barely write on Twitter. And so many of those photos, it just isn't me anymore. Everything I do now has love and soul put into it. I actually care about it. It's definitely not for the money, believe me. I guess it's interesting for someone to watch the progression from the beginning to now. It's definitely noticeable. The photos get bigger, the quality gets better, the editing gets better, the set descriptions sound like I wrote them with humility, but even still I have doubts about myself.
I wish so much I could tell everyone all of the things I didn't write that had my name on it. I have a horrendous story I could tell about things that have happened.
At least, as painfully slow as it has been, the people I wanted to find out on their own are finding out for themselves things I've been too scared to say or that nobody would believe when I said it.
Love, me
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My depression went away, as it usually does as fast as it hits me, but now it's coming back again because I feel so useless. I just lay here and my poor boyfriend who is just on the tail end of recovering has to take care of me now. When I get up to go to the bathroom the mirror is my worst enemy. I can't believe how bad I look when I get this sick.
When I was 15 I had to be escorted by ambulance to the hospital because my blood pressure had dropped so low it caused me to faint and I hit my head pretty hard on a marble floor. They couldn't hit the vein in my arms, maybe because I had more weight on me then, so they put the IV in my hand. With my fear of needles now I can't even imagine letting them do that. The point of this story is once I was there and I was stable enough to walk myself to the bathroom I looked in the mirror and it was so strange seeing myself like that. I'll never forget that image. I looked in the mirror in my hospital robe and I was more pale than I had ever been. I almost looked blue. My mascara and eyeliner had smeared from me crying so I had black circles around my eyes. My lips were blue and my eyes looked like my soul had escaped from my body. Maybe it was just hanging out in the lobby like someone in an auto mechanics waiting for their car to be fixed before they keep driving it.
I don't look that bad, but I look horrible. Not being able to move around is really taking a toll on my extensions too. If the wonderful smell of my hair products wasn't giving me a migraine I could take this sickness in more stride.
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Some days I sleep for 12 hours and have no motivation to get out of bed and work on the things I need to do.
I just want to sleep in the nest I've kicked into creation on top of our bed and bury my head in the pillows. It's not all peaches and punch having chemical imbalances. The highs sure are high though.
That's me disinterested and half in the dark. I got tired of trying to get a good photo of myself so I ended up sitting there and clicking the button a good dozen times without doing anything.
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