It has been a year...

It has been a year that I quit my psychiatric meds. By the end of May, I miscarried. Then, depression has returned. As the school first semester pretty much ends by June, I got freaked with out with all the grading, reporting, PTA meetings, and tons of other paper work that I was used to pressure about, but always having done my way, in my time, and sorts... I am back on the med again. I feeling the worst. My suicidal thoughts wake up with me , hang out with me, shower with me, have got to be with me. I don't see a way to get rid of them. Being a teacher is hell of a responsability, however, by teaching 4 schools and dealing with all ranges of ages learning is just beyond humane. I have always thought of myself as being strong. Maybe I am. But in reality, I am not at all. I play the role of being powerful, invencible, one-of-a-kind, but I am nothing more that a fragile violet flower on a soft plastic pot which needs watering and sunlight. I am weird and flacky. I need my old sketchbook. I wanna go back to my old place. Glad I haven't sold my previous apartment. Now I have excuse to keep visiting my 'real home'. I need to restart drawing. I need to restart dancing. I even quit drumming as I am being unable to disconnect my brain to count the beats. I need a skirt. I need a new hair color. I need vacation and erase from my mind the 'killing me softly' kind of deal. I wanna get back to my singing classes (better classes with better teacher, though). I must get back on playing the keyboard. Just restarting posting here consistently might already help. Been listening to Grimes and again, Canadians have this superpower to put in words what hurts my reasonings. Writing saves me, for sure.