day 884 – where once was blazing light, now there’s a tiny spark

Alternatively titled, “The Condition of Pious Illusion Falls to Pieces (Historical Audit Brings so Much to Light Which Is False and Absurd, Violent and Inhuman)”

This post has been adapted from recent posts on my Instagram.

“The theme of the diary is always the personal, but it does not mean only a personal story: it means a personal relationship to all things and people. The personal, if it is deep enough, becomes universal, mythical, symbolic; I never generalize, intellectualise. I see, I hear, I feel. These are my primitive elements of discovery.

I always run away from the simplest phrases because they never contain all of the truth. To me the truth is something which cannot be told in a few words, and those who simplify the universe only reduce the expansion of its meaning.

The real wonders of life lie in the depths. Exploring the depths for truths is the real wonder which the child and the artist know: magic and power lie in truth.”
– Anaïs Nin


Over the last week or so, I realized I desperately need to have my mental health re-evaluated, and I’m in the process of trying to find a psychiatrist I believe will be trustworthy and on the same page as me. I can’t keep going on this way, and last week was the roughest week for me yet, and I can’t do this on my own anymore.

My current Zoloft prescribing doctor isn’t qualified / doesn’t specialize in mental health (it’s my OBGYN), and I believe the Zoloft is no longer working for me.

I wanted to feel something — ANYTHING — other than what I’d been experiencing (utter despondency), so I clumsily broke my tender heart WIDE OPEN last week, basically reaching further inside my soul than I meant to. I sobbed multiple times daily (deep, long ugly cries), and had to handle myself with the utmost of gentle + delicate care.

It felt as though every buried, ignored, and/or suppressed past trauma came to a roaring head, and I was feverishly flooded with an abundance of *stuff* that had compacted while I spent those 10+ years in active alcohol/substance abuse, and it’s as though they sat dormant, waiting for me to be at peak desperation + vulnerability before violently erupting.

self-portrait, day 877

As per a coping mechanism I learned in my IOP, I didn’t run from these (intensely) agonizing illuminations + emotions — I sat with them, and embraced them. It sucked donkey balls and hurt like a motherfucker. And so I stayed — where I still remain — embracing the everything + nothing that I am (feeling), and recognized the fact I need help. I look put together as fuck, but I’m falling apart completely on the inside.

I haven’t felt this (extreme + relentless) level of discomfort surrounding my mental health since before I developed my alcohol/substance abuse problems, therefore meaning this is the first time I’ve wanted out of my own mind/body/soul and literally could not drown or numb my feelings because I felt it was too much to bear.

I was so low that not even the idea of relapsing with alcohol sounded inviting, because despite the temporary rush you get from a good buzz, the thought of knowing I’d only intensify a damn near unbearable anguish, AND deal with the aftermath of imbibing in a temporary relief/release/escape… no, thank you. I bawled because I felt like I was going to be stuck in mental purgatory, with no healthy “emergency exit” to provide even the most fleeting escape… it was a lonely place to be.

I’m mentally recovering from all I endured last week, but it’s like… I’ve got my reservations about medications, y’all. Always have, always will. It was HEAVEN ON EARTH the way my Zoloft once treated me (…after I stopped taking it w/ alcohol…), but since it’s seemingly ceased to do the trick for me, the idea of “playing roulette” (trying to find a new medication that will work for me), scares the ever loving dog shit out of me.

Alas, I know there’s a compromise — something better in the realms of mental health and finding a solution that will best help me and my needs — so, I’ll continue to (re)search for a psychiatrist I feel will be a good fit.

Fuck, I know I’m open + honest with y’all, but this is some next level, soul baring, NOT FOR THE FAINT OF HEART shit.

If you read *any* of this, thank you. I love you. 🌻


3 thoughts on “day 884 – where once was blazing light, now there’s a tiny spark”

  1. Hi, former woman_in_the_w00ds here. I’m glad you updated, and I’m so appreciative of your honesty. I can only speak from my personal experience with substance abuse (alcohol/drugs), psychiatric diagnoses and misdiagnoses, history of trauma, and now 17 months of sobriety and 7 months psychoactive medication-free, but maybe I can help?

    I’ve found through research and personal experience that talk therapy and specifically things like Cognitive Behavioral Therapy (CBT), Dialectical Behavioral Therapy (DBT), and Eye Movement Desensitization and Reprocessing Therapy (EMDR) have helped my symptoms of depression, anxiety, and trauma flashbacks/recurrent memories, and even negative thoughts.

    As far as prescription medication, I was misdiagnosed bipolar at the age of 19 and spent about 8 years trying various concoctions of various psychoactive medications for that entire time. Throughout that time, of course, I was only completely sober for about 4-6 months. So, you can imagine the chemical reactions happening in my body- I felt and looked like absolute hell. However, once I stopped drinking and taking any substances other than medicinal cannabis (prescribed and legal in my state for the treatment of PTSD), I found that the psychiatric drugs were making me extremely tired in the morning, if I missed even one dose of one of them I would experience withdrawal symptoms (which, being sober, made me extremely angry because I was like I QUIT ALL THAT SHIT SO ID NEVER HAVE TO FEEL LIKE THIS AGAIN, WTF DOC?!) and just generally started feeling like the drugs were inhibiting my everyday function way more than they were helping anything.

    I slowly titrated down each one until I had weaned myself off of all of them under the supervision of my doctor (I was on five medications at the time.. which yes, has absolutely lead me to believe I was severely overprescribed) and now seven months without anything but seeing a therapist who specializes in trauma once a week has kept me more stable than I’ve been since I was initially prescribed medications.

    Now, I definitely messed with their chemistry by drinking and experimenting with drugs of all types almost the entire time I was on them, so who knows the actual ramifications of what they’ve done to my body- only time will tell. But I use my tale as a cautionary one for anyone dabbling in prescription psychoactive medications- if I hadn’t done the work with my therapist to get a handle on my intrusive negative thoughts, my trauma history, relationships and need for closure and validation and low self-esteem (which is still a work in progress, lemme tell ya) it wouldn’t have made a bit of difference what drugs the psychiatrist prescribed because my train of thought would have still been the same, just slightly chemically altered. (and I definitely recommend only getting psychiatric medication from a licensed psychiatrist, and being very wary of it at that)

    I also don’t want to seem like a know-it-all or an absolute-truth source- that’s not my intention at all. I am just one person who got royally screwed over by the pharmaceutical industry and pushy doctors who overprescribe patients because it pads their pockets. I’m just the former lab rat who survived to transform into the canary in the coal mine. Personally, the only times I’ve felt myself and more or less stable for long periods of time have been when I’ve been exercising regularly (disclaimer- haven’t done much of that lately and have faced the consequences- it’s so cold and horrible here and seasonal depression is strong but I know if I got moving more I’d feel better), using medicinal cannabis (again, not sure of your views on cannabis and sobriety- not trying to push anything, just being honest about what has worked for me), having a regular sleep cycle, and going to talk therapy once a week (note: I’ve gone twice a week at some points when I felt like I needed it. Depending on your diagnosis or insurance plan and copay, this may or may not be feasible and I realize that)

    Okay… um.. I’m really sorry this is so long. But if you read it, I hope it helps in some way- I know how lonely and awful and confusing and scary navigating the world of psychiatric medications can be. I don’t know, if you’re ever looking for a firsthand account of the inner workings of various types of therapies, counselors, psychiatric meds, or even inpatient psych related things (oof, it’s lifesaving yes, but just because something saves your life doesn’t mean it’s pleasant). I hope this finds you well, at any rate. I’m available at


    1. HOLY FUCK I AM SO SORRY IT TOOK ME THIS LONG TO RESPOND. I have still been… well, making progress… but more days than not, I honestly question why I keep going (in various aspects of my life). Your comment is INCREDIBLY moving and I AM JUST SO SORRY I am just now absorbing it. I cannot afford talk therapy, yet at least, but I know how DEEPLY beneficial it can be. I have self-identified with various, layered symptoms of a few kinds of mental illnesses, and… that’s a story for another day. I’m going to email you though, and I can’t tell you how much it means/is appreciated that you took the time you did, to leave the words you did. All my love, and will talk VERY soon.


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