I will never give up my writing

I wake up most mornings in the middle of something going on in my head. It started a few years ago. In the beginning it was just once in awhile. But over time it has progressed to being every single morning I wake up. I can't explain it. I'm pretty sure it has to do with being mentally ill. But because I don't really know my mental health diagnosis I really don't know. I have been in psychiatric hospitals many times. And each time I go in, I am diagnosed with yet a different illness. I have had so many I gave up even caring. To me I am just metally ill. I have severe anxiety. Bad bouts of depression. Definite OCD. In the end it's only a label so I don't care which illness I have. I am just mentally ill. So I don't know exactly what my symptoms are. So this thing I experience every morning could be a symptom of some form of mental illness. I just don't know,...

When I sleep, just before I wake up, my head must be manifesting everything negative I am worried or concerned about. So when I wake up, the "problem" is right there. Forefront and centre. I wake up right in the middle of feeling almost angry. Upset,... irritated,... and therefore my mornings are not nice. I am upset. For the first few minutes I am awake, I am angry. I literally have to sit quietly and drink coffee and vape just to calm down. Maybe angry isn't the right word. Maybe irritated is better. Nothing is black and white so I don't always know what it is I am so irritated about. Probobly just my situation. Maybe just the thought of having to fill up 16 to 20 hours of empty nothingness to try and keep myself busy that day. This is actually hard to do. Keep your mind and body interested and amused. I get bored very easily and my days seem to feel so empty and looooongggg,... so maybe I am subconsciously just irritated I have to do it all over again today. I don't know. I have no idea why I am waking up upset. 

But this is why I blog first thing in the morning. Right after my coffee and hour of calming down, I fire up my laptop and start typing. I purge it all out. I get it off my chest. And once I am done I feel lighter for it. My day goes much better after I write. It makes me wonder how my days would be if I didn't vomit the bullshit every morning. Instead keeping it all inside. Getting bigger and stronger. I think I would just walk around angry all day. So I need to sit down and think about it. Process my thoughts and write them all down. It's very theraputic to me. What I am writing is not for an audiance. It is written for me and my sanity. I am conscious of keeping my thoughts honest and real. I just tell myself that I am the only person who will ever read this. It allows me to be much more open and honest. Unfortunately it probobly makes for some boring reading for others.

But I am old. I come from a generation with no internet. Diaries and journals were secret. You didn't want followers readin it. I don't even understand influencers and how they make money.  So this blog is not about that at all. This blog was opened because I didn't have WORD on my computer. I just needed an organized place to write down my thoughts. So when I found this blog site, I used it. I never expected anyone to even know my blog existed let alone actually read it. So my writing is not done in an "entertaining" style. The whole purpose of this blog is to vent. So I don't care about spelling or punctuation. I don't care if I use run on sentences or my paragraphs are incorrect. All I care about is getting these negative feelings out. Purge,... purge,... purge,...

In the beginning I acquired a few readers. Not many. Just a handful. But they were mentally ill themselves and I think they read it just to feel like they weren't so alone and that someone else goes through this shit too. It wasn't until I moved into this building that my blog was discovered by all the wrong people. I have had this blog for years and years before these people found it. But I percervered. I continued to write honestly and openly. Because of this I lost friends. But on the other hand,... I gained some. And the friends I gained were more like-minded people and more understanding of my illness. My early readers never judged. Just commiserated. Nothing about my blog gave me problems. It wasn't until I moved into this building that the low lifes found it and started using it as a newsletter to blab to everyone. That really hurt that they would be so low as to use my hardships and illness as ammunition against me. But over time I have realized that it is THEM with the issue,... not me. If they are going to use something so private and personal and delicate against me ~ that says a lot more about them than it does about me. Now I don't care who reads it. 

I am just a woman struggling to get by in poverty as well as trying to navagate life with a mental illness. If you use this agaisnt me - shame on you. And maybe you should ask yourself why you seem to need to. 

I will not stop writing. My truth is the only thing I have left. Writers will die telling the truth. Or at least THEIR truth. Because every writer is writing from THEIR point of view and perspective. So what I write, I 100% believe is the truth. It's MY truth. 

I have lost so much in life. But I will never give up my writing. My writing and blog have saved me. My writing is unfortuantely all I have left now. And I will never give it up.