hockety pockety whockety whack

In an attempt to relax and just shut my brain off for a while, I have started drawing again. I forgot how much I enjoyed it. It's really just doodling with those gelly roll pens, but Mumsy did not believe me when I said I drew them, so I presume they mustn't look that bad. 

Elsa... not exactly my favourite character, but 2 weekends in a row of dressing up as Elsa and getting mobbed by small children at Halloween parties has left the image floating around in my head.

dig dird

Sailor Neptune

foilage

And completed today:

The Dragon

Every now and then when your life gets complicated and the weasels start closing in, the only cure is to load up on heinous chemicals and then drive like a bastard from Hollywood to Las Vegas ... with the music at top volume and at least a pint of ether.

Living with mental illness often feels like trying to find your way out of a haunted house at a carnival, only no one told you that the haunted house has no exit. Some days are just

  

(Of course, sometimes that's my own fault.)

My drug dealer took me off of Lexapro because I was experiencing pretty much all of the bad side effects. He put me on Zoloft instead. I think it's working. Sort of. Mostly it has gifted me with a Nothing Box of my very own, a thing which God has denied us women. The Nothing Box is my favourite thing ever. Now instead of my brain feeling like an internet browser with 65985874748 tabs open at the same time, I can settle into a comfortable state of zero brain activity.

Follow up appointment with the drug dealer in two weeks. I'm hoping he increases the dosage.