Tattoos And Misery

So awhile back I got all depressed…Ok,I’ve been depressed for ten months, neither here nor there…But I decided to try to cheer myself up by taking a walk down memory lane aka HAIR METAL YEARS. And wow, some of the old bands are still making albums. Major suckage for the most part..But THIS, fromTrixter, or whatever they’re passing off as Trixter cos frankly age means shit but cut off the hair and I HAVE ZERO IDEA IF THESE ARE THE ORIGINAL MEMBERS. I digress…This song is fucking awesome.

So my kid had a sleepover at grandma’s last night, I haven’t fetched her yet. I haven’t put on pants yet. Meh. I need to do the shower thing, it’s been like two days? Three? I dunno. Details. I slept til ten. Though I was awake til almost four a.m. I don’t get to indulge my night owl much these days ‘cos I am a forced daywalker with the spawn. It was a pleasant change. I just played music on youtube but still…I briefly felt like the old me. (Okay, so I imbibed a bit that wasn’t iced tea, but cut me a fucking break.)

I’m experimenting with this whole “light will cure your depression and make you sprout wings and fly away” thing. I like to keep my place dark. Not pitch black, but I do find sunlight triggering so I had these icky (given  to me free) brown curtains that drowned out all light…I found these purple satin-y curtains at a yard sale and they were so pretty and I talked the lady down to half off what she marked them..So I put them up. And now…my living room is a daywalker’s paradise. It’s killing me. Literally, my head is starting to hurt and my anxiety is bubbling up. I am gonna stick with it at least a week. My kid shouldn’t have to live in a crypt, after all. Who knows, maybe it will cure my depression. (And monkeys might fly out of my butt.)

I’m still keeping my bedroom dark, though. I have to have some sanctuary from the stuid sunlight. Vitamins and all aside, sunlight isn’t that healthy for me if it helps the depression yet gives me migraines and triggers my anxiety. Fuck. I can’t win.

I’ve played that Trixter song ten times in the last hour. I like it. Everything sucks but I like this song. I still don’t know who the members are ‘cos minus that awesome long hair, people just look alien to me. Hair is my fetish, sue me. It started when I was ten years old. I like what I like. Short hair on men is icky. Okay, some can pull it off, but I still like long hair. As long as I don’t have a visual of short haired rock stars and just listen to the music, I’m good. I see short hair and immediately assume the music is shit. I suck that way. I’m also a music sexist ‘cos few women can do metal. Most of it’s about them looking hot, screw talent. Exceptions to the rule would be Lita Ford, Doro Pesche, Joan Jett, Lizzy Hale, and the singer from Stitched Up Heart. If you can be hot and wail..I can roll with that.

I haven’t heard from R in two days. He didn’t reply to my text yesterday. I’m a little leery. He was here the other night watching The Human Centipede with me (which btw, was super fucked up) and his wife called. She was on her way back to town and wanted him home pronto. I talked to her and asked if he could stay 16 more minutes to watch the ending of the movie, she said sure. Then he had trouble with his scooter not starting and i called to let her know he wasn’t blowing her off…And she made this snarky comment, “I should have just let him stay there with you.” Um…’Kay. I don’t get it, cos she likes me and is in favor of my friendship with R. So was she pissed at him, at me, what? Or is she thinking something nefarious was going on? Ha. Not with my kid in the middle of everything. I can’t do anything ‘cos my Siamese twin is there. Not that I’d want to with R. She’s sucked the life out of him, he’s as interesting as watching paint dry these days. Blah blah blah broken shit busted stuff blah blah blah. BOOOORING. So whatever that was all about…I dunno. Human interaction is a pain in the ass with all its drama. Leave me to my cats and computer, thankyouverymuch. Seriously, maybe my people skills are limited and the bipolar and stuff fucks it up worse..It’s just a matter of how much it costs me versus how much it benefits me. Is that shallow? Meh. I have a good heart if you don’t piss me off. Unfortunately, most people piss me off. Character flaw? Who wants drama and to be used? I’ll take what is antisocial, Alex.

And for the thirteenth time..Tattoos and Misery again. YESSS. Rarely do I find a song I wanna hear more than once. ‘Cos grunge killed rock and roll and it’s never been the same. It used to be fun. Now it’s just…Icky. There are exceptions, though I am finding a lot of the cool stuff is either Canadian or Norwegian or Swedish. WTF, America? Okay, let’s do something different. Cell Block Tango. Merry murderesses cheer me up. And Catherine Zeta Jones is fucking hot. Ya know, she’s bipolar. And HOTTTT. I can say shit like that even if I favor men ‘cos I’m secure in who I am. I spot a cool Mustang and say it’s hot, doesn’t mean I wanna have sex with it. Well, maybe a ’73 Pantera ‘cos those are just fucking sexy…

I’m doing my “just took my Cymbalta, enter hypomanic buzz” ranting. I should be doing the shower and pants thing. God, it seems like so much work. I remember my manic days when I wasn’t diagnosed properly and they were shoveling anti depressants down my gullet…So outside the seasonal depression, I was manic for eight months of the year. And I was a fashionista. I would gussy up every day, full make up, cute clothes, hair extensions, the whole bit. An hour to get ready even though the local consensus has always been “the natural look”. I liked my make up that had to be removed with a putty knife. (That was a compliment someone bestowed upon me back in the day. I think they were trying to say I wore too much make up.)

Now, after the Nardil brain damage and mood stabilizers…I can barely muster up the energy to put on pants, let alone make up and shit. How fucking sad is that. And all these professionals have the nerve to ask, “How does your condition affect your day to day life?” HOW DOESN’T IT????? I’m a fucking husk of who I used to be. Was it just the mania? Was I always this frumpy drained husk but the straight anti depressants made me manic enough to be a fashionista? Or is it age and a kid? I blame the stupid depressions. They suck the life out of the best of us. And we have to put up with asshats who think it’s some affectation. I’d like to see them walk in our shoes for one week, feeling all out of whack and miserable or happy and out of control. They’d be crying uncle after two days.

I must say, in the interest of being honest and fair, the Cymbalta is helping, to an extent. I am making goo-goo eyes at my kittens and feeling true love and joy for their fuzzy butts. Few months ago even that was beyond my ability. Truth be told, I am hoping he boosts me to 120mg. I like the energy buzz Cymbalta gives. Not to mention the added plus of having no knee pain while I’m on it. I’ve had knee problems for ten years and the doctors just shrug ‘cos their scans show nothing. I suffered, damn it. Now…I don’t. That’s a plus. But ya know, the bitch of it is…If I tell my doctor it’s helping, he’s gonna pat himself on the back and declare me all cured. Stupid professionals. You should be required to have suffered a bout with mental illness before you can work in the mental health field. I know my first (well, as an adult, I had a counselor in school) counselor really got it because as a teenager she suffered such bad depression she was hospitalized. That was what made her want to be a counselor. And it made her awesome.

Okay. Procrastination be thy name but I am betting my kid is hungry ‘cos my mom blew all the money on her party and they have no food to feed her. Shower. Pants. Dish. I don’t wanna…And while my purple curtains are very pretty all this goddamn light is oppressive, I need a Tylenol already. Ass trash.

If anyone sees my “give a damn” and “giddyup and go” please let me know.

 

 

 

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20 Responses to “Tattoos And Misery”

  1. YES!! SEXXXY ASS LOOONGG HAIRED MEN! && IF THEY PLAY GUITAR/BASS/DRUMS (their instrument), Most likely they can playyy!!! 😉

  2. Whoever designed you deserves an award for breakthroughs in genius messed up logic
    Then a private cell in hell as they serve as Satan’s private plaything
    As for sunlight… Overrated, give me British winter lighting and night owl sessions anyday!

  3. i can’t help it…i LOVE reading your blog. it kills me. one minute i’m crying and touched and hurting for you and the next minute i’m laughing out loud. yeah, i said it…lol. thank you. thank you. thank you. in real life, i would be your friend. “Blah blah blah broken shit busted stuff blah blah blah.”

    • Perhaps that’s the beauty in bipolar- I can be a misery laden bummer or I can whip off one liners that either make people laugh or roll their eyes. It’s always super cool when my writing resonates in a positive way. Yep, I said it, the word positive. Now I have to go scrub myself down with Lysol so I don’t catch the shiny happies.

      • ha! really though, you are an incredible writer. no one has made me laugh and cry at the same time like you do. i won’t tell you to go lick any fish oil pills… and hell, i have NO answers, but i like you. and i hope you feel better soon. xo

      • What she said.

  4. ^^ fish oil pills must work after all Morgue, I ain’t never saw me a bipolar fish, fish with depression, schizophrenia, BPD, etc,,, Hmmm??? Hahaha!!

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