Musings

Hi, my name is Cat Vonnegut (pen name). I'm here because I need a place to write about and often vent about health and mental health. I'm also working on a lot of projects including writing fictionally and may test some of the material here as much of the content is derived from my life struggles and the lives of close friends and family.

Today's thoughts: I don't want to think I'm a narcissist, but (and nothing good is followed by a but, is it?) I do find myself saying, "What about me?" a lot.

Am I neglected or just needy? How does one tell the difference between the two? Well, if you've come here for answers, I have good news, I don't have them. Why is that good news? You're not alone in being dumb and lost for answers. We're dumb together. They say misery loves company.... well, you're welcome. I came along for the misery ride before you even knew we were in the same bandwagon.

(P.S. My writing can be blunt and crass at times. I by no means mean myself or anyone else is dumb. TW: I write some shock comedy and satire, etc.)

#MightyTogether #Anxiety #Depression #Migraine #PTSD #ADHD #OCD #NarcissisticPersonalityDisorder #Jokes #Musings #Comedy #hereforthementalhealth #MentalHealth

A long time ago someone said to me "people are like puzzles, they have thousands, millions, of pieces trying to make one perfect picture."
But.
That isn't right.
You're not a perfect picture someone else created that was then cut into a bazillion pieces.
You are your own creation!
Every day, every experience, every moment, is a tile you place into your matrix.
You take these tiles, some dark, or bright, colorful, mottled, sickly, heart shaped, square, round, marble, glass, wood, paint, and you put them together in your way, into your art matrix.
And these pieces, they are not bad. They may have come from bad days, experiences, or moments, but it isn't a bad piece.
It is just a piece of you.
And you put these pieces in your art matrix, every single time you go to sleep, assimilating more of your pieces. Crafting more of your artwork.
Maybe you have a huge piece that becomes a focal point. Maybe a bunch of very small ones that make your soul hurt. One piece at a time. Moment by moment, you are crafting yourself.
You are your artist.
You create your own mosaic of imperfect beauty that is everything you are.
#Musings #Art #Therapy #Mydepression #Mosaic

I think about the small room. I remember the pale wallpaper adorned with pastel flowers, carelessly painted over with white paint, forced to hide the past. I realise I am still in the room, I can feel the fabric of the rectangular sofa with high and harsh edges. It's old and tries to keep me. The room is still and quiet but it's not quiet. I know it is not still. I am screaming and they are trying to capture me. I don't understand why and all I can do is cry. My mother is crying as well, pushing God towards me, certain He will keep the demons away. Maybe there are different types of demons? Maybe they are not afraid of Him.

I blink at the small green frog at the window. I can hear crickets and light rain in the garden. Water droplets are gently and rhythmicly tapping on the pond's surface. I read in my book of reptiles that that frog is poisonous. I think it's poisonous. I think I will not go out tonight.

I am restless. I have a fever and I dreamt that all my medicine have come alive and are chasing me, forcing me into a cupboard. How silly, I think, as my tiny heart pounds against my tiny chest. The floor is cold and harsh. I try not to open my eyes while trying to find my mother's hand. I hold her hand and she holds mine. I wonder if they will let me sleep on their floor again tomorrow. I don't want to be alone in my room. My father snores loudly. I fall asleep.

They gave me a silver ring with turquoise detail. It is adjustable and fits my slender pinky finger perfectly. I think about turtles and glowing light in between the cracks of the stone. I am in a glass dome and everything is peaceful.

#past #Childhood #Trauma

The masks I wear...so boldly and bravely...conceal the turmoil that lays beneath...like the glassy top of the sea that covers the raging currents below.
But on other days, the masks I wear are a reflection of what is underneath.