Extorted, Contorted, Distorted


We’re sorry, but your campaign won’t be included in GoFundMe’s public search directory until you connect a valid Facebook account.

Seriously? What’s next, I have to ask Zuckerberg for permission to breathe because air is now owned by fuckfacebook? It feels like extortion, “use my site or you will linger in obscurity and your cause will get no attention.” Also, collective peer pressure: “All the cool kids use Facebook, what’s wrong with you, you weirdo?”

Hmm…Well, there was that time a friend set up a Facebook account for me and next I know, I am getting irate messages from my contacts because they were all automatically spammed to join Facebook. That’s invasive, not to mention rude. Their policies are ass trash, their humanity debatable. Fuckfacebook was created by the devil himself. And now it’s become like Microsoft, you can’t buy a cheap computer that doesn’t have Windows installed as a no choice default, now you have few social networking choices aside from Fuckfacebook and Twatter.

I want options. Choices. Not to be extorted and forced into using something I despise. Back when I had the choice, I was very active on myspace. Mostly it was promoting new bands because ya know, back then I could listen to music and get joy, rather than these days where I get panxiety. I loved making up flyers and decorating my page in band banners and promoting them. Because it was MY choice. No one put a gun to my head.

Mind you, I do not at all doubt the positive impact sites such as fuckfacebook and Twatter serve a purpose. And to each their own, if you enjoy it. I just find it vapid to update people every time I have to pee, cook a meal, or my kid does something so adorable no other kid on earth has ever done it. I need something a bit more meaningful than 160 characters and status updates and pictures of someone in mardi gras beads wasted off their ass or showing theirΒ  Jesus shaped chicken nuggets. If I want vapid yet interesting, I will visit Reddit, where I will find some stuff cool and walk away finding yet another flock of vile net trolls.

Free will and choice, that’s what I want. Instead Twatter and fuckfacebook have a monopoly and a stranglehold, no choices. I swear the next time a person laments, “You really need to have a Facebook page” I am gonna hit them over the head with a shovel. I’d rather get Ebola and bleed out all my orifices because that would be CHOICE.


Pretzel gut. It never lets up. It twists and contorts every hour of every day. It’s stress, it manifests physically when there’s no more damage it can do to my mind. I try to talk myself out of it, but LOL, that’s a fuck sunshine spewer fallacy.

I tried to listen to some music this morning, get myself jumpsarted. I made it four songs in and then my nerves cried uncle, auntie, and sacred pegacorn. I keep thinking what I need to break this stalemate with my anxiety is to force myself to revisit my old pleasures, force myself beyond it. Enter: angry pissed off music by Marilyn Manson, Sick Puppies, Mudvayne. For a moment, the contortion was replaced with a feeling of old; fuel for my anger issues, fire to set the negative shit on fire so I can focus on the good shit It was fleeting. I’ve become so programmed (through no one else’s fault, but by the bipolar itself) that any time I remotely feel good or powerful or confident…It HAS to be the grandeur brought on by the manic episodes. I cannot feel good because it will end badly, it’s not real. Every time I have let myself go, gone with the flow…It’s always turned out to be byproduct of the stupid manic and hypomanic episodes.

Yeah, yeah, I gotta “rewire” my brain. They say it takes only 30 days of doing something exactly the same way every day, no deviation, for it to become a habit you do out of muscle memory, basically. Well, my mother programmed me that way for 12 years of my life to get up, get dressed, eat, catch the bus, go to school. Yet there were days when my nerves were so bad, the pretzel gut would keep me home from school. The depressions would come where hygiene mattered not and I would curl up in my closet, even then, and cry. So all this “positive thinking” cognitive bullshit really has no place when it comes to a legit psychiatric diagnosis. Unless self sabotage is in some way healthy for the mind. Trying to become what others are when you are at a disadvantage just seems..well, masochistic, to me. And the professionals encourage it which says to me…They don’t have a damned clue. If this rewiring were possible, why not teach it to schizophrenics? Oh, right, they have a thought disorder, which is legit, whereas bipolar is simply a mood disorder thus illegitimate. Unless they want an excuse to explain why people snap and shoot up malls or whatever, then they can play the “bipolar is a very serious mental disorder” card.

This is where the contortion begins. Being told you can “think” yourself out of bipolar yet try as you might, it never takes. And because I read a lot of other blogs, one thing stood out to me: “The bipolar didn’t make them violent, they chose to be violent.” Hmm…Some people are just vile beings, bipolar or not. Most genuinely bipolar people, though, are not violent until the cycle reaches its peak and you go over the edge. At that point, the distortions are so rampant, it’s not choice that makes you lash out, throw things, cry, scream…Because once I got on mood stabilizers that shit stopped happening. I never chose to act that way and I resent it being implied that all bipolar people have a choice whether to behave that way. None of us choose the behaviors that come standard issue with bipolar. It’s ridiculous to say otherwise.


As the weather changes, gets cooler, it gets dark sooner…my brain is taking this as a sign of hopelessness and time to hibernate. I don’t want company. I just want to go to bed early. I have put up pale curtains that allow light in, put lights in all my rooms, and light therapy is doing fuck all. Because while it makes an impact, the cold is what drags me under. I remember when I was preggo with Spook and one morning I had to go pee but it was so cold, I couldn’t even sit up in bed without my teeth chattering and my body being wracked with shivers. I thought, “Geesh, if my own bladder can’t drag me out from the warm covers, how am I going to handle a kid during the cold weather?”

I don’t know why the professionals won’t listen to me. It’s the cold. Lack of light, sure, I get that. But I think after six months of warm weather, the shift to cold and dark plays hell with the bipolar rhythms. I was lifting a bit with the Cymbalta increase. Now I can feel myself slipping. When it warms back up (stupid fucking midwest weather), I am up again. I am starting to think the professionals are the crazy ones.

So that’s my trifecta of fucked up this morning.

On the plus side,yesterday I…gasp..DUSTED the shelves and knicknacks in the living room. Not all of it, but a lot of it. I was so anxious, I had to do something to keep from clawing my skin off. When it drives me to choose to clean…it’s fucking fatal. Because dust doesn’t bother me in the least unless it’s on my computer. Fuck everything else. It served a dual purpose. I was able to put out most of my Halloween stuff. I haven’t decorated the outside or door yet but I’ve got my skulls and ghoulish stuff out on the tables. It’s a start. I am trying to fight the brain’s distortions.

R was supposed to stop by last night. He flaked, not so much as a text to apologize. Or cancel out. That’s what gets me so pissed off. He had a fit cos I didn’t return his text the other night, yet he’s so important and busy, it’s okay for him to be rude.

I need to just drop out for awhile. Fuck socializing. I think sometimes the intrusion is what keeps me from getting back into my writing. If I could write, none of this other shit would matter. Unfortunately, my writing only seems able to come out when I am not beholden to social visits and demands. Which means I am doomed unless I shun everyone, which I’ve done before, and then I have to mend bridges I burned and it’s all such a pain in the ass. Give me a cave with wifi, I’ll be good.

Of course, being a loner is a disorder and unhealthy even if it enables your creativity to flow and make you happy and content. I can’t even wrap my brain around that. What’s healthy for others has nothing to do with me. I am an individual. I like being alone. I resent having to eat what others like, watch and listen to what others like. I can make compromises but most people don’t reciprocate and it’s me doing all the compromising so I get resentful. Easier to not even go there.

Okay…Novel done. If you made it this far…You really like reading my drivel or your ADD meds are really working.





35 Responses to “Extorted, Contorted, Distorted”

  1. I, too, hate DoucheBook and Fuckerberg. And find it hard finding a balance between “cave with wifi” and “person world.” I like reading your novellas AND my meds are working!

    • It’s just never been a real issue to me, cave versus people. When my mood is conducive, I seek out company. Otherwise, I am content on my own. Why the professionals have always found this bizarre is beyond me. Introversion is not a disorder, just a personal quirk.

      I am glad your meds are working and you enjoy reading my spewage πŸ™‚

      On Wed, Sep 16, 2015 at 9:27 AM, Take a Ride on My Mood Swing wrote:


      • Same here. Maybe the balance just seems hard because the world loves to pathologize perfectly ordinary human eccentricity. I told a therapist once I was a gregarious introvert and didn’t feel a need to delve any further πŸ™‚

      • I told mine I was a pessimistic optimist. I’m sure there’s a notation in there somewhere about “does not comprehend oxymorons.”
        Manic depression is the very definition of oxymoron, guess I just take it a step forward.

  2. I have FB & no others, I stay away from drama in real & cyber time. My own little world, of course cuz even that’s sometimes too much for me. I really liked MySpace long ago too!

  3. I enjoy Facebook a little too much, I realized last night. I’m always on there. I fear that I’m going to miss something, even though I’m introverted as fuuuu and hate drama. *sighs* I don’t blame you for staying away.

    • I think what cracks me up most about Facebook is how vapid and rapid fire people post pix and updates…Yet if you were to try to hold such a conversation in real life, you’d be considered a bore.
      Not to mention, most of my socializing results in me sitting there while everyone else plays on their smartphones on…Facebook. Anti social networking, if you ask me.

  4. Eww. Why in the world would GoFundMe have such a policy? It’s not like FB requires you to confirm your identity by selling your soul to it so it can vouch that you are who you say. Just wtf is the reasoning behind it? Ah, maybe some lucrative deal between the two companies. Who knows.

  5. Yeah I’m planning to post something here shortly I think maybe, but I gotta grab a cup of tea, and go to the bathroom or something too…brb

  6. That facebook thing makes no sense. That’s fucked up. I’ll bet Zoe’s right

  7. Make a fake fuckbook account if you can be arsed. The name in mine is jonjane doe and that went through their filters fine. Disks.

  8. It took 5 attempts to make it through this post since yesterday. Ffs…I deactivated my facebook and my spotify was connected to it and guess what? I’ve lost all my playlists. How nice is that?! God DAMMIT! And WTF GOFUCKME “CAMPAIGN” AND FACEBOOK?! Suckerberg is in too many beds..rich assfuck. Lost my train of thought…fuckit

    • I’m gonna take that as your attention span being off and not that my writing is that boring.

      • It’s was neither. I kept getting interrupted and it pissed me off! All I wanted to do was read your post from beginning to end without having to stop! STOP THE INSANITY FOR THE LOVE OF THE SACRED PEGACORN!

      • Unless I post while she’s at school it pretty much takes me six hours to write a post cos of her interrupting every six seconds. Child muzzles should be legal.

      • I know damn Uzi girls…brrrrrap brrrrrap brrrrrap. STFU! I love you but for the love of Pegacorns I wish your mouth came a lock and key. I can’t do anything with mine around. Noise is getting to me-badly. Today I realized I am SOOOOOOO NOT looking forward to monkey getting older and girly foo-foo tee hee hee OMG blah blah kill me now.NSLM and teenage boys-CAKE compared to the 8th grade girl HELL I went through. If I could smack a child for their eye rolling and shit….js

      • (Just rolled my eyes, cos damn, habits are hard to break.)

        My kid is so energetic and outgoing I have a feeling she is gonna be a “whoo” girl. Whooo hooooo yay over every tiny thing at maximum volume in a pitch that causes eardrums to bleed.
        At which point I am so buying that t-shirt that say, “Mothers of teenagers know why animals eat their young.”
        Mute buttons, I say, mute ’em!

      • I second third and fourth the mute button and monkey is already there…for the love of all that’s holy kill me now…and I still want one more. Lunacy

      • I’d love to have another one, the baby years were awesome, the toddler years were great…Once she started talking,though…Ugh. I think sometimes she’s just so lonely and bored, a sibling would do her good. Other times, she’s so spoiled, I’m fairly sure she’d kill a sibling that took attention from her.
        Dude, you hit the sperm bank for us both, carry the babies, and we can raise them all together and let them entertain each other while we scout hot men and have drinks with umbrellas!

      • I loved being pregnant and having kids up til school age. After that, I want to send em off to “finishing school” as in “finish bothering me for awhile” then they can come back in their 20s. Sometimes kids need siblings sometimes they don’t. I think the major issues for Spook are the way gramma and grampa let her get away with murder and you take the brunt for being a good parent. Love talking woman.
        I know EXACTLY which man I want to father my child(ren): he’s British and tall and smart and sexy and omg I need to change my pants. I’ll carry the babies no problem! And as long as we keep the umbrellas out of Spooks sight, I think we will all be ok! I need a hot man scout..too bad there aren’t many here. That damn lumberjack look just is a turn off. Barf

      • Yeah, I am living in a town where most of the men look like the cast of Duck Dynasty. It’s turning things into the Mojave desert in my nethers. Like I want a newborn with a beard down to its umbilical cord, ewwwww.

      • RIGHT?! No thanks. I’m really NOT into beards where birds can live. And here they guys have these little man pony tails-it looks like a ball of dog poop on their heads. Not attractive in the least bit. I’m thinking Sahara over here-DRY DRY DRY NADA!

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