Not broken

There is something here and I don't know how to write it. Upon further examination, this may be the part of the Wellbutrin I can't stand. Words do not come as easily. (At all?) It's a trade-off, it's always a trade-off, I know. We will see how this further effects my writing, because I can't NOT write.

Who would I be if I didn't write?

I also can't afford to spend weeks where I was, though - insane, unstable, without a handhold. We will see. Perhaps the dosage can be lowered. Perhaps it can't be. I traded some of my creativity when I decided to be on lifetime medication for my bi-polar nearly a decade ago.

I'm afraid of trading off more. I'm also afraid of what happens if I DON'T make that trade-off.

We will see.

I do know something, though. Something that stokes like the fires of old. I will never call myself broken. Cracked, yes. Broken?


I am not the damsel in distress. I will not hole myself away in an ivory tower waiting for my white knight to take me far away from what hurts. I will not pretend to be alone. Your voices are too many for me to say I don't hear - there is no tower I could lock myself in that would or will take that away.

I am not in need of fixing. Who I am is just fine. It's what I DO that needs work. I, as a person, as a fundamental being who exists in this world, am not wrong. So long as I remain open to the suggestions of health and healing from those around me, who I am will continue to expand.

I will get bigger. I will not shrink away from the world like an overly delicate, wilting violet. I will reach further, higher, ever twisting towards the sun. And I will figure out how to continue reaching further. I am not broken. This world, all of the sharp and heavy things in it that can shatter people....

It will not break me.

It never has before. It will not do so now.

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"Broken" is when you think like 'Shit, what does life still hold ready for me that makes it worth going on with it?', not when you try to deal with what you get.
So this is a difference in thought and the positioning that you do yourself is right in that spectrum.
THIS. The finding the point where broken isn't a natural progression, but rather places you place yourself in. Beautiful way of putting it!
Broken CAN also be a factual state. But it's always a question if you see yourself as this or not.
If you do, then your actions may match a "I don't want to go on!"-attitude. If you do something different, try to deal with the blows you're given, then that doesn't speak for seeing yourself as this - and it may be possible you can change the factual state that is there. (Only "may" because some states can go too deep that you can speak of any "repairing" or similar.)
Well look, even if it does numb your creative spark a little for a while, then that's probably worth the trade off. When I was in the depths of chaos and the Mirtazapine numbed most of me away, looking back on it I don't regret it because I needed the distance to survive.

And you probably need this to survive. To give you breathing space.
This is the voice of reason, the one that I need to hear, because you're right. It's my survival on the table risking being shredded, no matter how many pretty words I can put that rending of self. It's good to hear that someone stuck it out through the medication, and that it saved their lives. It means it will probably do the same for me.

I can't see myself regretting the fact that I am not daily suicidal, even if it means writing less. That distance to survive thing...that makes me think.

Can you share more about your experience with your medication and how it seperated creative endevours but also saved your life through that???
Yeah, I mean, if this medication is giving you a break from the overpressure of falling apart, then it's worth it's weight in gold, and thank heavens you've found one that works.

And it just... it let me function again. Not what I'd call higher functioning, but it let me function in terms of getting up, getting dressed, eating, washing, working, doing the basics of taking care of myself, providing breathing space to order my brain and utilise more therapy tools more effectively. There was no great joy to anything, but likewise there wasn't overwhelming breaking down despair.

And no, I could not regret no longer feeling suicidal, it wasn't a great place to be, but it was better than the place I had been in. Losing that creative spark was difficult though, I just didn't feel anything passionately enough to do anything much creative. It was all just... going through motions. No drive or energy behind it.

But that's okay because that was just what I needed in that time in my life.

I think anti depressants can be tricky for creatively driven people though. Because there's frequentyl an element of madness to our creative energy, and often anti depressants medicate that away along with the element of madness that drives our brains into breakdown mode.

But... the element of madness frequently gets out of balance, and just has to be corrected for a while.

You'll be fine. Take the pills. Re-assess where you are in 6-12 months time. Enjoy the peace and quiet. Use it to find balance.
Who would you be if you didn't write? Haven't you wondered? If you didn't have that pressure to write for the sake of writing, what would you have to say out of a place of stillness instead of out of a place of compulsion? If you had to discover value independent from what you can output in text, what will you find?
This may be the most shocking question ever posed to me in my entire life. Have I ever considered what I'd be if I didn't write? No. Never. Not once. Not even for a moment.

Seriously, your comment made me blink. and then it made me gasp. And then it made me think, in that soul searching way. Maybe what comes out of stillness instead of compulsion could be more powerful.

But pinning my entire worth onto on single, solitary act such as's literally never occurred to me that there might be other things to explore.

Seriously, mind fucking blown reading your comment.