Archive for April, 2013

The sleep deficit grows

Posted in biolar disorder with tags , , on April 30, 2013 by morgueticiaatoms

R assigned me a rather risky endeavor today to do for one of his friends’ computers. I have tried to tell him that it risks destroying the entire hard drive but he is insistent. He wants me to do this software shit but he overrides all my input. Very nerve racking.

Which is why I slept like shit last night. I was awake literally every 2 hours. Over and over and over, to the point I wanted to claw my own eyes out. I have a lot of nights where I wake up, but it’s been awhile since it was that bad. And I know it’s anxiety and a little bit of anger. It’s like handing a kid a pencil and telling them to write their own name, they have to do it for themselves…Then taking the pen away and doing it yourself. Why am I even making an effort? It’s pointless. Every day I become more bitter because this software bit is not what I want to do. I find it utterly boring. I know what I know because I spent 13 years learning on my own, without anyone prodding me and telling me what to do. Now instead of a learning experience it’s become one more soul sucking “i have no choice” task like housework.

But of course, the brakes are failing on my car and I need the brownie points for car repairs so I will make like a nice little minion and if he destroys the fucking thing, so be it. I will do an “I told you so” dance. Though if I can hem and haw and stall, I’d like to try to find a better solution than software crossbreeding. Too many little variables to put all the eggs in one basket. Or maybe he’s right and I’m wrong. I don’t like to take chances because it makes my panic skyrocket. I still stand by my assessment that what he wants to do is far riskier than beneficial.

So…No decent rest. Anxiety eating my nerve endings alive. On the plus side, my mood seems to be on up side of level, but I did just take my meds so it could be that temporary lift, things could go to absolute “die in a fire” shit soon. It’s never a given and I don’t view it that way, but I am wary as it has happened so many times.

I  hadn’t been through the door four minutes last night, was going pee and trying to change clothes, when that little neighbor girl was at the door. I am getting really sick of that. I told Spook no company, period, and it was a brief tantrum but I had shit to do. The air conditioner is going in soon, this place is a sauna, and I have to have the outlet looked at and I wanted to rearrange the furniture for summer since I didn’t get a chance to do it all weekend. It’s a shame parents have so little supervision on their kids that this child is basically allowed to stock us seven days a week at all hours.

But I am finding my backbone and I think it’s time to lay down some ground rules. Like, NO company before 5:30 pm during the week, period. Like no company before 2pm on weekends, because a month now I have had to put my plans on hold or listen to a tantrum because my kid wants to play with someone who knocks on the door before 10am. Sunshine spewer is right. I have to lay down rules and stick to them. I don’t know why this proves so hard with my child. Maybe because I want to make her happy and not screw this mom thing up. Everyone else I simply don’t care about displeasing.

True, I don’t want to disappoint them, but that is more me atoning for my past of fuck ups than me wanting to make them happy.

The whole R situation is heading for a blow up at some point. It will be ugly and he will play the injured party but once I crack, there is no turning back. Which is why I beg people not to make me feel like an animal backed into a corner. The outcome is never good and it burns bridges. At this point, I am just “so be it.”

Honestly, what kind of future do I have at that shop if I get all this training and he’s just gonna second guess and override my decisions?Not to mention if he should keel over, the shop goes to his kids and aside from the youngest, those older two want me gone. They’re too polite to admit it, but they have dropped so many hints it’s like an anvil on the head. R sees and hears what he wants to because his kids can do no wrong for if they did it would reflect badly on him as a parent.

I doubt I will ever be that way with my kid. I know she is a demon spawn, she comes by it naturally. My calling a spade a spade mentality has not changed since reproducing. No one gets absolved with me. Personality flaw? Perhaps. But so much rejection based on a condition I can’t control has helped me become this not so good person and I am not inclined to go back. Least now I see the knives coming instead of being surprised when they land in my back.

Wow…this was supposed to be a short post.

Way I see it though is no one edits their diary and that is what a blog is, a diary. Sometimes you let other people read it in hopes of support and input.

Okay, I must shower.

I don’t want to, but I must.

And it’s these moments when I want to revert to being a three year old and stomping and screaming “I don’t wanna, you can’t make me!”

My inner child is a mean little bastard.

Crazy sane?

Posted in biolar disorder with tags , , on April 29, 2013 by morgueticiaatoms

Is it possible to be both crazy and sane at the same time?

Because part of me feels sane but a huge part of me feels like I am slipping away into the abyss of the mental darkness and the pulling-out-hair-in-clumps anxiety.

Truth be told, the part of me who thinks I am sane is more a byproduct of what others want me to be. Even my dad jumped on the pressure cooker wagon this weekend about me getting that certification.

What none of them seem to realize is that’s their dream for me, it has absolutely nothing to do with me. Yes, I want to do better for my kid and myself. But I wanted to take community college courses, get into computer graphics, something where my creativity could be put to use. Somehow what I want always gets washed away by what others want for me. Usually resulting in a complete mental meltdown, and nothing every happens, they don’t get what they want, and I dig my heels in because I am too busy trying to survive mental illness to have the energy or presence of mind to “rise above it”. I need breathing room. I need to work at my own pace. I need to do it for me, not everyone else.

Right now, I am walking a fine line, questioning my sanity on an hourly basis. Because some of my responses to outside stressors seem off. I should be stressed, but I should not be viewing everyone as a threat to my sanity. Yet I do. I am getting agoraphobic again. Opening the door means letting people near me and thus far, trying to press my limitations and step outside my comfort zone is what is helping me come undone. I really need to lower my standards, no one is perfect, least of all me. But rudeness is something I have never been able to live with.These kids who want to play with my kid are rude. Well, the girl is, the boy is okay. Of course, that could just be my bias. I was stabbed in the back so many times by women that I learned to gravitate toward male friends. Men are pigs in physical relationships, but they make decent friends. And maybe I am being unfair to Sam.

I just don’t know anymore.

I know between all the kid noise and the noise in my head from the influx of emotions, moods, and anxieties, I am sliding. And while I feel I can confide in my counselor, I don’t feel I can tell the shrink the truth. She really seems to be getting fed up with me. How do I explain it? In a way that won’t get me locked up in a looney bin?

I think what has to be done is I have to find a way to overrule the panic that is keeping  me in this submissive insecure state and remember that I am an assertive person, always have been, even to my own detriment. I need to make rules and stand by them. I need to do what is best for myself as well as my kid and to hell with these other people who don’t even care enough to ask me what I want. They just tell me what they want me to do.

I think I may take a mental health day from  the shop. I am just in a pissy mental space and he doesn’t like me in these moods. I don’t like anyone in these moods. I wish I could just “get over it.” And I will likely cycle out of it later on but right now, it clings to me like the stench of a decaying corpse.

So…crazy or sane or both?

Anyone want to give an objective opinion?

Because I am all out of my own.

Life is as much fun as gargling razor blades

Posted in biolar disorder with tags , , , , on April 29, 2013 by morgueticiaatoms

I honestly think I am beginning to crack up. What scares me most is, I’m starting to not care. Being committed would get me a break from all this shit sending me into freak out mode. It sounds like a childish cop out, but I am to the point where I can’t breathe anymore. My skin feels like it fits too tight. My mind seems to be doing whatever the fuck it wants in spite of the meds. I am feeling out of control and overwhelmed and angry and frustrated. And the more everyone tells me I am okay, suck it up, rise above it, blah blah blah…The more I want to have a screaming throwing shit breakdown. Because I am a lowly human being and even people without the mental stuff can crack up sometimes, so maybe I am just more prone to it and yet, I am smothering in the lack of ability to even crack my lids.

My misanthropy is growing by the day. I am losing objectivity and starting to fall prey to the moods and anxieties. Everyday feels like a fresh start for someone to take advantage of my kindness. To take but not give. To claim to be supportive yet completely blow me off. Of course, for all I know, this could be my own mental distortion. For all I know, I could be right as rain tomorrow.

I have had a hellish weekend, though. That girl has been here off and on for three straight days. I told her to come back at 3 today, she was back at 12:30. She started calling me a fatty and a butthead then claiming it was a joke. She kept asking for food and drinks. My kid became a terror any time I tried to send her home. We had to basically flee our own home two days straight to escape this child. Which earned me an hour of screaming and bawling tantrums. Yes, Spook can stress me out, but it was hardly ever this bad before this girl started coming over. She left earlier without even saying bye to my kid. I put Spook down for a nap, and the girl comes back and tells me I need to wake my kid up so they can play. I told her not to come back. Six pm, she was back pounding on the door and I just ignored it. JUst like I did yesterday when my kid was sleeping and she wouldn’t go away.

This child-Sam, we will call her, has become the bane of my existence. She was here this morning at 9:30 a.m. My stomach was churning, I had a Trazadone hangover, hadn’t gotten dressed yet, needed to do all the housework I didn’t get done yesterday cos she was here all afternoon….My mood was vile. And I glared and snapped accordingly. Not my finest mom hour, but ya know what? Parenting is a tough job. Parenting with bipolar disorder is a mind boggling feat. Throw in someone else’s kid who is rude and demanding and never wants to leave and can’t listen to basic instruction (Please come back at 3 pm so we can do things we need to do”…I feel trapped in my home by this child, like my only recourse is to not be home. But my home is my sanctuary.

Then I think of all the advice I’ve been given about being polite but straight forward with Sam, about how I am the adult and this is my home and I have to assert myself…And it’s like, wtf am I doing? This child will not listen. Much like my own, who has had more tantrums this weekend than I can count on both hands. I am at the end of my rope. But once I send Sam away and my kid realizes I am not caving, things calm down and we play together and…It’s fine until that child returns yet again and again in spite of being told not to. And forget talking to her mother, she’s basically told the kids she doesn’t care what they are doing as long as they aren’t inside bugging her. So…When polite firmness does not work…What do I do? And this whole taking advantage of my kindness and basically using my kid to play with her toys while running off to play with other kids without so much as a bye or helping Spook clean up the mess…It infuriates me. Because it’s a matter of basic manners.

I am sure it sounds asinine and trivial but this is really driving me over the edge. Throw in the stuff with R at the shop and one of my cats is acting out so I put her outdoors because I got sick of cleaning up her messes to protest the other cats….Plus the burning stress stomach aches are daily now. The anxiety makes me want to claw my own eyeballs out. For the first time a long time, I am actually taking the full daily prescribed dose of Xanax. I am doing breathing exercises, visualization exercises, I am drinking water in lieu of caffeine…I am doing everything that is supposed to help. But it’s not helping. All I want to do is sleep. Everything else seems hopeless.

And I wonder, is the Cymbalta really helping? But I am terrified to tell the dr it isn’t because I can sense her growing aggravated with me due to the neverending med failures. It’s not a Goldilocks thing, where I just keep trying the beds to find one that is comfy. I just want to feel better. I want back my will to live. I want out  of this teeth grinding darkness where my only comfort is sleep. Plus, she thinks it’ s situational depression that can only be worked out in therapy. Well, I’ve been going for 19 months now and the sunshine spewer isn’t concerned with underlying depression issues.

I am at a loss.

My kid is talking to me and it’s like nails on a chalkboard. It isn’t right, because I love her more than anything in the world.

I love my cats but when they are climbing all over me sometimes, I just want to scream and start throwing them off of me.

I have napped with my kids both days this weekend and I am still just exhausted and stressed out.

Now I have to try to relocate some semblance of sanity to go to the shop this week. I have tried to talk to R but he has this way of deflecting my feelings and making me feel sorry for him. It pisses me off. Because it’s a common thing with guys. You talk about your feelings and somehow they dismiss them and insert their own feelings about how you are difficult and stressful and…God, I hate people. As a whole. My true hatred only applies to people who have personally stepped on my emotional toes. And when I tell a so called friend I really need an occasional break because I am losing it and it suddenly becomes about their needs trumping mine…That’s not a friend. That is someone who uses you for their own comfort without giving a damn about yours.

Or has my brain just liquified to the point of not having any sanity left?

I’m scared.

Feeling Unapologetic

Posted in anxiety disorders, biolar disorder with tags , , on April 27, 2013 by morgueticiaatoms

I spent most of the week feeling ashamed, embarrassed and sorry for my sudden downshift in mood to a dark depression. People had taken note that I seemed different and better than I was years ago and I strived so hard to please them, to make myself look less flaky in their eyes, more desirable, more socially acceptable.

But in my gut, I know they are in the wrong. If you care about someone, then you take the darkness that comes with the light. You don’t get to pick and choose. Love is acceptance of the beautiful and the ugly. This was reaffirmed by the dedication in the book I am now reading, where the author thanked someone for being able to live with her, stand by her, in spite of her darkness and sadness. It’s how I have always felt. I can handle someone being sad or angry or happy. I can’t live with people being fake and unaware of their own flaws. It may make me a bitch but I REFUSE to accept the “This is how I am, deal with it.”

If we’re going with that party line, then I am sick of the side effects from the meds and I should just say, “This is how I am, deal with it.” But I KNOW that is wrong. I have issues and I need to deal with them, for myself, and for others, as well. Because as much as I accept myself, I know it is not right to drag people down just because I am down. I know it is not right to have blow ups and take a bad mood out on people. Furthermore, I should just give into my personality disorders, 0ne of the worst being, “Tell me to go left, I will go right to spite you.” Rebelling for what you believe in is one thing, but doing it out of spite…That’s stupid.

But everyone around me is just staying the same. They never change. Never become better versions of themselves or stop using their crutches or learn self awareness and face their own hypocrisy. Now that would be fine. Except these are the same people that have always, and still, expect me to change the things about myself that make them uncomfortable. Seriously people? If a diabetic had to give themselves an injection in your presence, you wouldn’t shun them. You might look away but you wouldn’t tell them to “cure yourself already.” But with mental illness, if you can’t cure it, then you must shove it back into the closet under a bunch of stuff and plaster on a fake smiley face and be whatever those around you need you to be for their own comfort.

I’m sure it’s not that way for everyone but it is for me, always has been. Just like living in this hick conservative area and people urging me to “dress normal.” What does that even mean? Just because I like to wear black with boots as opposed to bright colors or flannel with tennis shoes? Frankly, if my appearance makes you uncomfortable, that says more about your need to conform to fit in than anything being wrong with me. I admire and celebrate people who have the guts to make their own statements with their appearance or what music/music/et al they like. I don’t have to agree with it. But it takes more courage to stand out and stand up than to blend in and back down.

So…Believing this as staunchly as I do…

How is being in the presence of others and  having it implied that I am somehow “weak” or “annoying” or “difficult” because of my moods…Makes me shrink back and go back to the “let me please you” merry go round?

Yesterday, I went to the shop, when I got around to it, and I did not make any apologies. Because R has no changed since we were together and he never will and while I can accept him for what he is, it doesn’t make it healthy for me. Because anyone who would stay with a woman who beat is kids for 14 years but dump me after 2 years for being moody…is obviously an idiot. He blames her whole heartedly, but he refuses to take any responsibility. He stayed. He let her beat his kids. If you lack the spine to stand up for what is right and prefer not to rock the societal boat by breaking up a family…That is sort of on you. I understand the desire, the need, God knows I held onto the Donor not because of any true emotion for him but because I had so much emotion for my child. Of course, he didn’t abuse us.

Am I even making sense anymore?

This was another point R has made repeatedly. My lack of focus. Like I don’t care.

Hey, sometimes I do, some days I want everyone to die in a fire. It’s called mood swings, bitches, deal with it. I have to. I have also illuminated for him my slight ADD and that insurance won’t pay for the Focalin I desperately need to fix it…and he doesn’t get it. Still he complains. It’s like talking to a wall. He’s a good guy, but he is riddled with so many personality disorders, he is giving me a run for my money.

And there lies my biggest personality flaw of all.

I have made so many changes, done so much growing, gotten so introspective and tried so hard to fix things and improve things unsavory about myself…My quid pro quo brain kicks in and thinks others should do the same, even if to a smaller degree.

Stupid and laughable I know.

But I recognize it as a flaw and I need to try to do better. It’s just hard to accept others when the acceptance is never returned. When you can’t figure out why they have the right to expect you to change but make no changes of their own. Guess that’s one to discuss with the sunshine spewer next appointment.

Last night, I devoted four hours to letting the kids play. There was not a moment in that time that was about me. And while I thought I would feel resentful…I didn’t. I actually felt pretty good about it. I put my kid to bed and I stayed up til 11:30 watching TV.

Today my mood seems level. Little low but not too much so. My anxiety is off the charts because I have kids here and this girl is climbing on the couch beside me playing with the cats and saying my name every thirty seconds and telling me my typing is too loud. Yeah, this is not irritating at all.

But I am sucking it up.

Just because I am not a people person doesn’t mean my kid is a loner. I can’t keep her isolated just because I prefer to be. That’s what acceptance is. Not expecting others to be anything but what they are, even when letting them be who they are is outside your comfort zone.

I am finally breaking the cycle of my family. I have no expectations of my daughter to be anything but who she is. I have no hopes or dreams for her other than for her to be happy.

Let her figure out what she wants to do, who she wants to be. I may not like the outcome but I am prepared to handle it.

I have been stifled my whole life.

I won’t do it to my kid.

F*cking Frustrated!

Posted in anxiety disorders, biolar disorder with tags , , on April 26, 2013 by morgueticiaatoms

So ya know yesterday when I was feeling pretty good and hypomanic? Yeah, well about that…

R called and told me to come in if I felt like it as Kenny would not be there. I felt good and thought okay, I can do this.

Fifteen minutes after arriving, the mood crashed and I didn’t want to be there. Because I knew my mood wasn’t level or good enough. Because now I feel like I am jumping through flaming hoops trying to keep my mood pleasant for R’s comfort. Because ya know, he did ditch me once before because of moodiness. I wasn’t a fit girlfriend because of my disorder. Now it’s starting to feel like I’m not a fit friend because of my moods. He did say “You haven’t been yourself, you’ve been distant and moody…”

WHICH IS THE WHOLE FUCKING POINT OF BIPOLAR, YOU TWONK!

I guess he figured a few months of faking my way through the bad stuff made me cured.

Oh, sweetie, that was just the filler between prologue and epilogue. The epilogue is where I curl up in a closet crying and panicking because I can no longer handle the stress or keeping up with the expectations of people too ignorant to understand this is not my personality, it is a chemical fucking imbalance.

Unlike most, I DO know the difference.

Rebellious streak-personality. Sarcasm-personality. More affection for animals than people. Personality.

Rapid changing mood swings and crippling hyperventilating panic attacks? DISORDERS.

Oh but I take meds, so much like Tylenol making a headache go away, my meds should make the mood swings completely disappear.

I am frustrated being surrounded by people who are so ignorant and don’t want to be any other way. I am sick of them clinging to their personality disorders while expecting everyone around them to change. I at least am aware there are things about my personality that are quirks or need work. I don’t justify alcoholism with “I work hard so I earned the right”. I don’t tell someone else about being moody, meanwhile something went wrong so I am tossing power supply boards on the floor and punching walls. (He did that the other day.)

Another one of my “annoying” personality quirks is that my mentality is QUID PRO QUO.

You want me to recognize when I am being a bitch? Try taking a look in the mirror and realizing what an utter ass you can be at times. Crazy talk, you say? Then you deserve my attitude and wrath. You EARNED it!

Oh..and yesterday’s “wow, why do I even bother?” moment…Some guy went bonkers in a town 20 miles from here, shot 5 people, including a 1 year old girl. Now they’ve released that he was bipolar and off his meds. So of course R looks at me and asks, “Is that what’s going to happen to you eventually?”

Oh, that’s hilarious.

He wasn’t joking, though. His first wife has borderline personality disorder, which he thinks is the exact same as bipolar, and no matter how many times I have corrected him, it doesn’t matter. So because she was violent, and this guy went nutso and happened to be bipolar…well, birds of a feather…

Fuck you.

What pisses me off further is being told I am mean and twisted because I like cheesy 80’s horror flicks, skulls, and coffins, yet he and Kenny sit there watching Youtube videos of people doing stupid shit that results in bones poking out of skin, blood, gore, et al…And they laugh like it’s the funniest thing ever. To me, that is sick. Because I get NOTHING out of watching people get injured. I am not sadistic. Even my worst enemies I don’t wish physical harm on.

So maybe I’m not the twisted one here, I’m just the one with enough remorse about past behavior and enough insecurity for them to sway the focus onto me away from themselves. I know it in my gut, I know I will never please them and the more I try the worse I feel…And I am nice and strong and stubborn…Until I have to go deal with them and feel like I am under a microscope every second, lest my mood shift and I glare and they assume it’s all about them…

I’m just over the interacting with others thing. Personality disorder? Perhaps. But managing the bipolar and anxiety not just for myself, but for the comfort of others around me, is exhausting. I keep thinking if any of these people cared for me beyond what I can do to make their life easier, they’d at least try to learn about my disorder, try to hear me out and let me explain it.

The other day, R was telling someone the story of our first date. Yeah, back when I tried to explain my panic disorder to him and he laughed it off then took me to a packed gambling boat. “She went in looking perfect, gorgeous, then ten minutes in, she ran off to the bathroom and came back looking like a train wreck…We went outside and she leaned over the side of the boat…and threw up some more.” Tee hee heee. 14 years ago but hearing about it never gets old. I TOLD him I couldn’t handle that many people with any grace.

For awhile, I thought it was cool being friends with someone I had a history with, because we have our own inside jokes and all.

Now…When it’s just a rehash of my not so greatest hits and reminders of what I was like prior proper diagnosis and meds…It’s actually pretty depressing. I feel like I need to escape, abandon ship, so to speak…Get away before I end up even more psychologically damaged. Because while I steadfastedly stick to traits I like- being macabre, being sarcastic, liking the music, shows, movies, etc that I like…When it comes to the moods and bipolar and anxiety stuff…I know it’s all wonky and I know it’s difficult to handle, and I want to not be difficult. I want desperately to be simple and fun.

But I don’t think that’s who I ever was or will be.

Now…sorry for the long rant, but I really needed to purge all that was weighing down my mind.

I’m gonna see if I can muster up the motivation to shower and go to the shop.

Magic 8 ball says it does not look good.

 

And so it begins…

Posted in biolar disorder with tags , , on April 25, 2013 by morgueticiaatoms

R called last night and suggested I take a day off.

Not once in 18 months has he ever done that.

Now I’d love to think he’s simply being nice and thoughtful.

But after our prior conversations in which he basically said I was overreacting and distracted and not my normal self…

I think this is the beginning of a process that has been a constant in my life.

I do well for awhile. I struggle. I bounce back.

But eventually the stress takes a toll and I start to unravel. People begin to notice. My productivity is down. My focus is nil. My moods are so up and down and my anger so prevalent, I am no longer pleasant to be around…

And it comes down to “take a few days off, rest up” because yeah, that’s gonna cure mental illness…OR the ultimatum, “Get your shit together and be professional, you can’t act like this.”

Oh Niki’s greatest hits collection grows bigger.

Am I being pessimistic and paranoid? Perhaps. I doubt it. I have learned my lessons the hard way on what being naive costs me. I mean, I had that near fatal reaction to Topamax a few months  back, could barely walk and function, and he had NO problem with me not feeling well then, I was still supposed to be there.

But my moods become unpleasant, even if I am being quiet and trying to keep them to myself…Well NOW I need a break. Or does he need the break because I am no longer a coddling adoring little helper monkey?

Yesterday was hell on Earth. I had a draft written but it vanished. It’s okay, though, since it was written mid melt down and was likely just redundant mood swinging bullshit. In spite of it all, I let Spook have company last night and while it was stressful because the kids were screeching and wrestling…It was also fun not to think of my own shit for awhile. I played with the kids and for a moment, it felt like, yeah, this is who I am.

Then came the “take the day off” call and it hit me that my past is repeating itself because while I can maintain certain amounts of stability and functionality for brief stretches…Eventually the stress gets to me and things start to come undone. This was why they fought to put me on disability in the first place because it had happened over and over and over and no one can support themselves if they are functional five months out of 12. I thought maybe things had changed, maybe I had improved.

It’s not looking that way.

Of course, today my mood is damn near hypomanic.

Fuck, fuck, fuckity fuck.

On the plus side, I took a Trazadone last night and got a decent night’s sleep. If you discount the bizarre Trazzy D induced dreams. Those freak me out.

Now…what to do with myself today. I am a little nervous as my brother goes to court today on that stalking thing and I am scared of what is going to happen. His emotional maturity is around age 12 but legally, he turns 18 in July. It could go in a bad way for him and while I spend my life in a cocoon of apathy if it doesn’t directly impact me (survival method), I do love my brother and I’d hate to see this charge stick on his record when his life is just starting. It bothers me.

Not sure what to do with myself now. Funny how that works. The days I am low and want to stay home and piddle, I can’t. The days I am brimming with manic energy, I am at a loss on what to do with it. Could I be more of a clusterfuck?

I had an epiphany yesterday.

My brain is sort of like the processor and graphics card out of a computer made in 2002. It functions, but technology has become so advanced, it can no longer keep up with the pages of flash ads and it crashes often. (Maybe because this is how the shop computer is.) I need an upgrade. Last night I started wondering if I need electroshock therapy. Getting desperate here.

But bipolar is a disorder, lifelong, and it cannot be reformatted or upgraded. It is what it is.

And I am what I am.

A beautiful mess.

What is this liquid coming out of my eyes and why won’t it stop?????

Posted in biolar disorder with tags , , on April 24, 2013 by morgueticiaatoms

Weeks since I last cried or even came close.

Then tonight…from out of nowhere…I get teary and my voice falters while trying to assert myself and explain my thoughts on the phone to R…

And as soon as I hang up…The dam bursts.

Like uncontrollably. The tears stop, then start right up again.

And the dark recesses of my brain are saying very bad things because right now, I feel very very bad.

It was just a tough day.

My 17 year old brother was served a restraining order and has to appear in court the 25th because he has a crush on a freshman girl and she thinks his attentions are harassing.

My 14 year old nephew informed me tonight that Hitler was a great man and people only persecute him for his past and it is wrong to hold someone’s past against them.

I’ve got people pondering my parenting skill and my daughter’s intelligence because she’s almost four and not potty trained and one well meaning soul even declared “WE have to do something about this.” WE? She’s MY kid, fuck off.

R is constantly on me about getting that certification to expand the business when there’s very little business in the first fucking place. He whines about how broke he is and has the nerve to ask me why I can’t keep my kid in pull ups on what I have.

Meanwhile his little friend Kenny quits his job three weeks before having to move out of where he is living with no plans. He drives his mom’s vehicle because he wrecked his own. He is constantly borrowing money off of R. He is constantly at the shop and now planning on living there. Nice guy, but total screw up.

But in spite of everything I am trying to juggle, R is still on my case to “rise above it and do better.”

Tell me that’s fucking fair.

He made a comment about “You’ve been distant and unfocused, not keeping me on track, maybe it’s something to do with your meds…”

Not an hour ago I had told him I needed the damn Focalin and he’s so drunk he doesn’t even remember.

He told me I need to calm down about the Kenny thing.

He wants me to go out to dinner and drinks with his wife Friday night while he babysits Spook and his granddaughter.

I agreed only because they both got on the phone and I felt like a deer caught in the headlights. I’m trying so hard not to cry, dabbing my nose and eyes with a tissue, attempting to sound so solid because my mental stuff scared R off in the first place…and meanwhile, I am agreeing to something I don’t want to do because I was put on the spot and my tears are gushing and it all feels like it is slipping away and I am freaking the fuck out.

As of this moment, I just want to avoid him and that shop tomorrow. I want nothing to do with him. I know the mood will pass, it always does, but right now…He is the object of my hatred and anger simply because he’s so goddamn unassertive and he has no expectations of Kenny yet puts so much pressure on me. It makes sense in my warped mind right now. One set of rules for Kenny, one set for me. How would that not piss most people off?

And he still doesn’t get it, nothing I said, not one goddamn word, sank into his head. He still thinks I am being unreasonable and overreactive. Yeah, well, it’s kind of hard to do what I need to do when Kenny is there cranking up Nascar, Youtube videos, and hogging the computer that gets me the schematics and shit he needs, so why shouldn’t I be pissed off? I have to beg him to put gas in my car so I can show up to help him, but he just hands the keys to the candy store to Kenny. How am I not supposed to take offense?

Or am I full of shit?

It’s wayy too soon for pms.

I’m not entirely sure what brought this on except a few days of extreme stress with the kids here and this family stuff and the situation with R and…

But hearing “I’m entitled to drink my problems away at night because I quit drinking long enough to get my degree with high honors 30 years ago.”…just really set me off. The man who ditched me for being mentally ill, something not within my control, yet he has a problem but he earned the right to indulge it 7 days a week with 80 plus ounces of beer every night.

Then why am I not entitled to be unmedicated and throw shit at people’s heads because the mood strikes me?: I EARNED it with all the side effects and near fatal reactions to the meds, right?

Bullshit. Bullshit reasoning by someone as steeped in denial as The Donor.

But it’s so prevalent I have actually started to entertain the notion that it’s the norm. Wanting to be better, wanting to be more self aware, wanting to fix the problems and break the cycle…That’s wrong. You must embrace your misery and vices and bad traits like a security blanket and anyone who doesn’t agree is wrong and you just shun them…Right?

Cripes, I don’t even know what I am on about now. I doubt I will sleep any time soon, and I do apologize for three posts in one day but…Hey, my tears have dried up now that I have vented. That’s a good thing.

Still want to crawl out of my skin and throw shit at certain people’s heads because I EARNED the right, but somehow, I am still held to a different set of rules than everyone else it seems.

Is okay.

When I do finally snap…

I know where they all live.

Muhahahaha.

Wow…I think I am gonna cry again.

FUCK.