I’m noticing that my depression is rearing its ugly head.

It’s surfacing pretty gradually this go-around.

Sometimes it hits like a freight train though.

It’s self loathing and doubt.

It’s soul crushing shit.

With the voices and everything that take over, sometimes I can dismiss my depression symptoms as part of everything else.

But after my injections, I’ve been having days of silence.

Silence and isolation.

Life becomes completely different when they’re gone.

Isolating, really.

Not that I want to hear the voices.

That’s not what I’m saying.

Not at all.

It’s just that I’ve never really felt alone in my life.

Until the past few days.

It seems like there’s always been someone watching me.

And this week, nothing.

I’ve had very, very few voices this week.

Which is relieving, but empty feeling at times.

When they aren’t taking over, who am I?

What am I?

I don’t know how to feel or act because they’re so quiet right now.

They make me so reactive.

I know that this is a good thing.

I know I can start to create myself again.

But the thing is, my whole life, I already knew who I was.

I’m loud.


An outcast.

In my own world.

Usually the butt of a joke.

The one who is different.

The one who’s defensive.

I’ve always felt like a black sheep.

My whole life I’ve felt like people were always picking fights with me.

Then I get blamed for starting shit.

I have always felt like people were trying to sabotage me.

Trying to stifle me.

I have always felt like people are out to get me like that.

Everyone else is the fucking enemy.

Because no one will ever get me.

But now I’m riddled with this odd silence.

An abstract idea I never thought was possible.

And it’s me versus the world.


No one understands me, again.

But I’m a new version of me this time.

I don’t have any idea who that is yet.

But someone without as much rage.

Without as much confusion.

Without as much heavy gray fog surrounding me.

But without that fog.

Anyone and everyone can see my face.

Which is a vulnerable state to be in.

Especially when I have no idea what a real life looks like.

One without such constant chaos.

(I had a therapist tell me that my life is in “constant chaos” once, and I’ve owned it ever since.)

I’m having to mold myself and my personality at practically age forty.

How fucked up is that?

I have very little to show for my life so far.

It’s creating a heavy hole in my chest.

And as much as the voices clutter my mind.

It’s very odd to have them be gone for so many days in a row this week.

In fact, it’s almost been a week since it’s gotten very quiet again.

I’ve been wishing for a lot of things lately.

I’m wishing I had my life back.

I know I haven’t talked about this here yet.

See, I lost everything when my psychosis completely took over me this time last year and years before.

But last year was really brutal.

I was believing my delusions full heartedly without knowing what a delusion was.

I knew I couldn’t live with whatever was happening.

I knew something wild was going on.

Something out of my control.

But I wish things would’ve been different.

In the chaos of my ongoing running delusions and hallucinations, I had to move in with and then around the corner from my parents. 

Who live about a thousand miles away from my life.

I don’t remember how it happened.

I couldn’t tell you how I was moved and what the thinking process was for me, even if someone had a weapon pointed at my head.

It created a lot of residual and cyclical loathing in me.

How I can’t handle life.

I can’t be a fucking human because I don’t know how to.

Especially before I knew about psychosis.

Which was this January.

January of 2022.

Before then I had never googled psychosis.

Or audio hallucinations.


I hadn’t googled anything about mental health.

I will never be able tell you why I never looked anything up.

Ignorance I guess.

Not wanting to admit everything was fucked.



How could I admit to something I didn’t even know exists?

And then flash to today.

Today is calm.

My mind has cleared up more than ever before.

And as I’m writing this.

I’m realizing a lot of my depression is from being homesick for Colorado.

This has been a big portion of my frustration issues lately in general.

I talk about it almost every week in therapy.

I miss the beauty and the vibe.

The snow.

The mountains.

The trees.

It’s different down here.

And I only know my parents.

There’s not a ton of resources, so I’m making due until I can get back.

But this depression has been lingering since the summertime.

Since just before I decided to start this blog.

And it feels like it’s settling in for a while right now I’m afraid.

Until I figure out what I’m doing again.

Hopefully that’s not too terribly long from now.

I have to keep working on myself so the time passes.

I made a list of goals the other day in hopes to start to keep things positive.

Instead of listing things I hate.

Or things I regret.

It’s the only thing that I can do right now.

I’ve come to grips with that part.

But not with being so far away from home.

– Keren

6 responses to “Homesick”

    • Thank you so much, that means a lot to me! I really appreciate that. 💚
      Being homesick sucks. It’s all I can think about when things go bad with my day.. if I was home this wouldn’t be happening right now..

      Liked by 1 person

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