I miss a lot of things

 but being manic isn't one. 

I was prescribed the wrong medicine for about 9 months of my life, and it really took its toll. My breaking point happened during Pandemic so I suppose I didn't "miss out on much," which provides some relief. 

When I was taking adderall, I was in the throes of the quarter system and I really believed that was the only thing that could keep me afloat. 

What I realize now is: I do have a hard time focusing and my brain does need help with that. What I also know now is: the way I went about working and living were unhealthy. 

I saw no real separation between the two. I'm a perfectionist so it doesn't surprise me that much. I think I was also in an environment that praised those that made their work their life. Or at least that was what I took from all my classes and assignments. 

In a way, I feel like a late bloomer. College was always hard for me. Trying to strike just the right balance between me and everything else. I always felt my peers were much more gifted at it than I was. I didn't want to cheat but I knew I needed help. And when I was prescribed adderall I figured that was all the help I needed. 

But it took the people that know me best to say, "Hey, we're worried." It took my best friends to ring the alarm on my mania. 

What was it like? To be manic for most of that time? Well when I was in school, it wasn't really a problem because the commuting and the workload required a 24/7, head on a swivel way of being. But then when pandemic hit and everything stopped, I didn't know how to stop, or slow down, with it. I frantically kept moving. Because that was what I had conditioned myself to do at that point. 

Coming off my medication was a really lonely experience. I felt ashamed for having behaved the way I did. I was embarrassed that I took an ambulance ride to a hospital because I was walking around without shoes nor a key to my apartment. I really put myself at risk. But I had a blanket of support to be swaddled in. I'm grateful for that. 

I wake up grateful to be quarantined with my dad because I can't imagine having to go through what I went through with anyone else. My family, my blanket. 

I feel bad about the way I spoke to my friends when they just wanted to help. I thought they were being paranoid, when in reality, I was on the brink of paranoia myself. Remember how I said, head on a swivel earlier? Well, truly my head was always on a swivel. I was always looking around for the other shoe to drop. 

Now, I take something different for my focus. I know the difference between focus and tweaking now. Something I thought I knew, but realize I got it wrong. So I don't miss being manic at all. I'm happy that I can see it for it it was/is. 

But I do miss going to school. Not school so much, because I think a lot of unhealthy practices are accidentally encouraged there and I am still raw to a degree. But I do miss leaving my house. 

I do miss the look of an empty canvas and a palette full of paint. 

I'm terrified to clean out my studio space, mostly because I don't want to put a period on that part of my life. The mania yes, I put a period to, but the work I was doing was something different. I really found myself in that studio and I don't want that period of growth to end.  Also 

I'm scared spiders have made my things their new home. 

I hate spiders. 

I miss crit. I really like looking at art and talking about what I see. 

I really miss my peers. 

It's hard going online and seeing my friends quarantined with one another because I get a sense that I'm missing out on something. Makes me feel like a late bloomer. But that's the perfectionist in me talking. "Why can't you do both? Why can't you be more like them?" Really damaging thoughts that have no place in my new tool kit. 

I've had a lot of bad days, as I'm sure many other people have. 

But now I have a question: How did you get through? 

I need new inspiration for myself. 

Thank you. I love you.