Written on Starbucks napkins in the cafe back in June:
I’ve never been this happy and alive for a very long time. Ever since April last year, I’ve been spinning inside of a black hole struggling to find a way out. After times of failure, experiments with medication, days and nights of hiding myself at home pretending that I don’t exist in others’ worlds, I now feel what happiness is like. The word ‘recovery’ is misleading and tricky; I think every single person in the society has different sorts of problems to solve, cure, strengthen, etc. I’ll always be on the road of recovery, or better said, improvement and reinforcement. It’s been a giant step forward now that I can finally sleep at 2ish and wake up around 11 instead up staying up all night, feeling numb in the afternoon, and then taking a nap and waking up at dinner time, although I give much of the credit to my sleeping pills. Two white plus two orange is the best thing in my life. The feeling of sleepiness at midnight feels human again. I couldn’t be more happier even though nightmares still knock on my door in my sleep, but I’m improving, and everything’s getting better, so what can I blame? However, there is a hint of guilt lingering in my heart as soon as I feel better. Am I blaming myself for feeling happy? These moments are real, when I watch a real good sitcom or a romance movie, when I pick up a bunch of fresh roses after doctor appointment. I smile every time I look the vase full of blooming flowers on my desk. I feel calm and relaxed, when I light the tiny bulbs above my bed, when I put on a fresh mask on the face, when I smell the aroma of my lemongrass and sweet orange essential oils. I haven’t felt in this way for so so long that I might possibly be guilty for feeling that sense of lightness and happiness. With a little improvement, I couldn’t help urging myself to improve more and more so that I can fully, fully feel normal. That being said, I wish to work like everyone does, meet friends anytime for a drink or a shopping date, but that is a little too soon to say still. One of the strangest and truest feeling that you’ll never get rid of is the past. I’m feeling alright now, but I remember so vividly how my days were back then. Those memories of suicide attempts, negative thoughts, and family issues are just in the back of my head, and they’ll just float by from the deepest database in my brain. I’ll have to learn to accept them and live with them. Because it’s those horrible breakdowns that make me resilient today.
As of the present day:
It’s almost 7 in the morning now, and I’m still awake having my brain numbly sort out so many different things. The head is SPINNING! I’ve been refreshing my Instagram page like crazy, editing the profile there and on Facebook again and again, and thinking about why I’m doing all these while I have to wake up just in a few hours for the doctor appointment. I don’t have that ‘over the moon’ feeling like a month ago anymore, but I still have the burning motivation to do an impossible amount of errands every day. I’m on four sleeping pills that are intended to put me into sleep and give me back a normal resting cycle, but I don’t take them until 5 or 6 in the morning to make sure I don’t get uncontrollably sleepy and have to give up what I’ve been doing all night. Honestly, I am very exhausted and numb in many ways. Last morning I didn’t know why but I cried so badly for not being able to relax a bit and sleep at like 8 in the morning, and to my fear I had a glimpse of thought thinking I’m better off dead. I haven’t had this kind of thoughts for a long time already! I’m hoping that I can be a robot that can be recharged over and over again without sleep. I’m sensing some repetitive phrases now and there might be typos because I’m really tired, and hungry at this moment. How can a person be so tired yet so hyper? Although I’m not working, I feel like my so-called working hours can be comparable to other people. I insist to take care of my flowers every day (currently having five vases of fresh flowers in my bedroom and four empty vases); I’m like a flower addict, a flower hoarder, but I cannot help that. It feels like my ‘responsibility’ to experiment with different kinds of flowers and make some nice flower arrangements since I’ve opened up a page. It’s completely taken over my time and attention. It’ll probably sound luxurious, but I insist to watch many many tv episodes or movies online every day; By ‘many’, I mean finishing a season within a day. I’m also so freaking sensitive to dirt that I insist to wipe and clean my bedroom area and bathroom every day no matter what. The unbelievable part is that I’d had two times of fever in the past two weeks and I still managed to do all these. In the scale of 1 to 10, my daily average is 5, which is pretty good actually for I had 0’s before. I can handle many social events such as going out for flower shopping, doing yum cha with my gran and gramp, chatting with my dad, briefly running into my best friend and having a short conversation. I couldn’t have done all these months ago.
I’d admit that I love hypomania a lot. It’s like I have everything in control and nothing to worry about really. However sadly hypomanic isn’t my original personality, and if not treated it can turn into mania, which will be a catastrophe. I don’t want to be on this roller coaster anymore. It’s unpredictable. I’m unpredictable. Even I myself don’t even know when I’m going to be hyper or depressed or neutral/ normal.
It wouldn’t be possible if I don’t mention my Storybloom page because it’s really the work of my heart, mind, and soul. “[ˈstɔːɹibluːm] is somewhere flowers and stories meet.
Everything here is bloomingly made as you wish. And the story in the storybook is all yours to create, based on your background, purpose, memories, and imagination!
You can have your very own unique storybloom made.” I’m glad I’ve made this happen as it gives me the opportunity of combining my love of flowers and passion for words together. I’d really appreciate if you can check out the Facebook page Storybloom | 花說故事 by Norelle as well as Instagram page, where I post my flower picture every single night. I’m really hoping that one day it’ll become my business that really earns money. I don’t know if this is about me being hypomanic or this is really my direction to go though.
I should probably go get some sleep now, despite the fact that I’ve been having many bizarre dreams, or maybe I should at least be glad that the dreams don’t consist of my being killed anymore.
I’m glad to make an update on this page because I haven’t typed a word for so long, anyway.