Archive for January, 2017

And Today’s Bipolar Extreme Is…

Posted in bipolar depression with tags , , , on January 30, 2017 by morgueticiaatoms

Me, being awake and sitting up, at 5:30 in the morning. I actually woke almost an hour ago but I attempted to go back to sleep. After least week’s involuntary somnolence, I didn’t think it’d be an issue. Ha. Bipolar throws another curveball embedded with rusty nails.

It may anxiety because I have a shrink appt today and I have to pick my kid up early just to make sure I can make the appt and not have to sweat them running behind so I can’t pick her up. (Yeah, I have family who probably might do it, but they aren’t very reliable and are always busy so why bother.)

Other anxiety includes my kid having a running nose (snot nosed brat, ha ha.) I pretty sure it’s a garden variety cold because I gave her allergy pills and it didn’t help. Of course, my mother went off, in front of Spook, about how “you need to get that kid to a doctor, her nose is running and she’s coughing, she must be allergic to your cats.” Grandma drama llama set off my baby  drama llama. Now following a shower last night Spook was howling in ear pain. Could be an ear infection coming on. Could be water trapped in her ear. Could be a number of things and my batshit mother has the child convinced I am neglectful if I don’t take her to the ER for every hangnail. Until Friday, Spook’s nose hadn’t even been running so we’re not talking some long going illness I’ve ignored.

How my mother didn’t psychologically cripple me is a miracle because she truly is nuts and hell bent on passing it on.

The weekend wasn’t bad. Not much human interaction required or dishes into the trip so that is always good. Of course, my dad had to stop by and bring me rules of the road book to remind me my kid still needs her booster seat  by law (ffs, she’s 4 feet tall, 62 lbs, and will turn 8 in 7 months, get over yourself.) Well, that set Spook into a stratospheric tantrum for an hour and a half. I had to listen to her bawl, wail, punch and kick walls and yell I SHOULD JUST DIE. Yes. Over a booster seat.

Yesterday’s drama was me asking her to put one basket of her laundry away after I’d folded six baskets. No, it was too hard. No, she doesn’t know where things go. (I pop quizzed her which drawer was for what, and ha, she aced it, so don’t play me, child.) She cried. She said she hated her life. I am mean.

I don’t really get how I have beyond a trait or two of borderline because all this drama makes me a nervous wreck and more depressed rather than giving me any kind of validation.

Oh, guess what. My nose is running too, I must have ebolaswinepox, best airlift me to Mayo clinic.

Now that you’ve had your morning dose of snarkasm…

I hope I can nap after I get her to school but I doubt it cos the appointment anxiety and I really don’t wanna extra medicate just to zonk myself out. Why can’t sleep come quickly and naturally? It never really has for me, even as a ten year old I’d be in bed awake an hour after lights out, counting numbers, silently singing songs in my head, making up stories. Anything to keep my mind occupied. Out of the dark zone, out of the anxiety inducing zone.

All I’ve heard lately is about attacking the underlying cause of anxiety, that will fix it. IF I KNEW, I’d Z whack it myself. That’s kind of the point of a disorder is you don’t know why you have the symptoms because it’s so often random and extreme. Saturday we braved the huge grocery store (would Aldi renovate already and reopen???) and I wasn’t too freaked. Yesterday we went to our normal small convenience store and seven people were in line and I started to get paranoid and panicky. WTF?

If it’s never the same trigger…How do I get to the underlying cause?

And this dialectal therapy the shrink mentioned…I am skeptical. It basically sounds like a self pep talk you brainwash yourself into. I can live in the moment, I can ask myself what the bigger picture is, blah blah blah…It doesn’t change whatever whacked out brain chemical imbalance is going to stab me in the back next.

Maybe I sound treatment resistant. I don’t think so. I’m willing to entertain the magnets, even shock. But talking talking talking, while may make me feel better (ya know, kinda like taking a poop)…I am still bipolar, still depressed, still anxious, still not sleeping properly.

Let’s talk about 20 years of THAT, professionals.

Okay,back to my courtship of the tissue box and binge watching Medium. I have had too much reality, the paranormal is just what I need to draw my attention away from my scumbag brain.

Which I am pretty sure is the reincarnation of the Marquis de Sade to have me awake at this ungodly hour. Sadistic son of a  bitch.

Zombie Shamble Got Nothing on Depressive Shuffle

Posted in anxiety disorders, bipolar depression, depression, mental health, seasonal affect disorder on January 27, 2017 by morgueticiaatoms

I am the walking dead, minus violence and a desire to eat flesh and such. Five mornings straight this week I have gotten my kid to school only to come home and…go back to sleep… THEN feel shitty for napping because, dammit, I am A BADASS, this is beneath me. I’ve not done this week long nap shit even when the donor abandoned us nor when I had the crippling depression for seven months or even two weeks of flubola…

I can’t begin to explain it. Wellbutrin mixed with all the other meds? Cos that is the only difference in me staying  nap free for years and now suddenly napping 5 days straight. Is it the 99% cold and midwest gloom (which we are facing another week of). Is it the fact I am up and down all night for whatever reasons even when my kid sleeps through (2 out of 7 days) this week?

To add to feeling super shitty about it, I kinda flaked out on planned lunch with R yesterday til last minute cos…my body was in deep nap mode. Today I was to be at the shop at 10 so I could earn smoke money but…I didn’t get there til 12:15. He was unamused.  As was I because I did set an alarm and somehow, my phone got muted so no sound…

To my credit, even tho I was mega late to get there…I had every single thing on the list done in an under an hour.  Because while I like smoke breaks and a  bit of youtube ‘i like this’ sharing…my end game is always to get there, get shit done, get back to my safe bubble. I am not half assing anything, I am just…more focused on getting it done than say, R, is.

Tis been one of those weeks where his missus is out of town working so he invited himself over 3 nights straight. I wasn’t enthused (depression laughs at enthusiasm) but we did watch Flash/Legends/Arrow together. Then he introduced me to a movie called Silent Hill which was pretty cool. SO while every fiber of my being wants to bitch slap the world at large and retreat within myself…I am making the effort to socialize even if…hell, for all I know, that may be what makes me so exhausted thus causing the daily naps.

I got to looking at R’s past emails for the month for part orders,etc, and it hit me…JANUARY NEVER ENDS. Seriously, the print out I did for him for a service repair only came in on the 12th…and it feels like weeks and months later and we aren’t even out of January.

Which to most may seem like, huh, big deal. But from seasonal depression and finding the bright side, ya know, when seasons change…It feels like a lifetime away even if only a few weeks. I thought the no heat thing was the worst, and oh, it was grueling, but now we are roasty toasty…But it doesn’t change the fact it is still cold outside and 99% of the days have been gray and gloomy. While black and gray may be my favorite colors to wear…It does shit for mood. I NEED the season change…

This lethargy and shuffling about trying to be normal and smile and laugh is exhausting. If the disability people were to ever want to question my family and friends, I’d probably be screwed. Because no matter how open and honest I am, they only hear what makes them comfortable. HEY, SHE LAUGHED AT A JOKE. Hey, she put on eyeliner and came to dinner.

There are no words to describe how much it takes out of me to paste on that facade, all in the name of being “normal” and not making others uncomfortable. Soul sucking seems an apt description, as I am sure many of you can relate to. We fake it, but that’s all it is. FAKE. Our struggle and pain are very real but we live in a world too weak to deal with that. To the masses mental health issues are akin to “mentally disabled”, as if we are lacking in intelligence or basic skills to survive life. The truth is… a huge percentage of “mentally disabled” people with bipolar, depression, schizophrenia, et al…are hugely intelligent. Our brains simply don’t process and produce the same results as non chemically altered brains.\

It is frustrating to the nth. I see my shrink Monday and while I think the Wellbutrin is a good start..I am still going to have to contend with his “why won’t you do the counseling clinic” and also, his last comment about how being on disability is “the new norm”, like I am hindering my own progress cos this is somehow more comfortable. I told R earlier, when he was on a rant about how those of us on disability/food stamps/Medicare/Medicade are all government minions kissing the government ring to get “free stuff”.\

I told him flat out, “Losing your self esteem is not getting anything for free, it costs more than you could ever comprehend.”

Not to mention, with all his Trump crumpeting…he, too, is just a minion, whether he realizes it or faces it. His small business is struggling and paying more taxes than it should because he, too, is at their mercy.

I guess being called a government minion got under my skin. Because other than abide by the rules for disability such as seeing my doc, seeing their doc for review…I am not kissing up or selling out. I am living my truth and others see it…So if I don;t qualify for legally entitled disability and such..I should be given an Oscar for fooling dozens of people. All of whom only need read this blog to comprehend I am faking nothing.

Now…I had to wait an hour because my “Obama phone” aka Safelink had no service so I couldn’t even call to see if my kid could have a sleepover with my mom…but service is up so now i can. Thank Pegacorn neither of us were bleeding out cos no service is kinda…unreliable. Shall we fire Tracfone?

Just to prove I have kept an iota of humor about me…I saw a couple things around town this week that made me smile so I had to take pics.

One…I luuuurve (damn you, Sass, for introducing me to that term lurve!) the Serta counting sheep and this display window just beckoned for a camera…

0126171257-00Then this beautifully yet warped random gem driving by, cos my sis was a huge Cabbage Patch Doll fan and I find them creepy to this day…

dollHow can you not admire someone nailing a naked cabbage patch doll to a phone pole????

Also…how attached are you to your internet name? In my case…This is on my bedroom wall.

morgueLast but not least…my daughter’s rendition of a skull cup you can drink from AND plug into a wall as a lamp.


Depression is kicking my ass, making me narcoleptic and grumpy but…the humerus (ha ha ha) is still working.

Uninspired so title this for me

Posted in bipolar depression with tags , , , on January 24, 2017 by morgueticiaatoms

(wonderdaze, thank you for the birthday tidings and I was going to send you my email via your comment  but I clicked wrong and now I can’t find the comment, ega.  it’s

Fog has lifted a bit. I still napped this morning because I slept so poorly last night. Naps lead to me feeling slothful but I guess if the brain and body need more rest…

To clarify for those who were guilted…When I recently remarked how disappointed I was by a lack of birthday text or email, I was not referring to any specific tribe member. I was referencing people I’ve known 15 plus years who love to claim to be my friend and call on me when they need something yet can’t take ten seconds to remember me on my birthday. It’s less me being needy and more me having a problem with thoughtlessness and rudeness. If I can count on my on line friends more than the 3 dimensional ones all the psych professionals seem to think enhance my life…well, I am staying behind my computer.

I am still unmotivated.

Having stress stomach aches, though I think that has more to do with my kid;’s constant fussing over her ailment de jour. She has a hangnail, take me to the ER. A splinter, I need the ER. A headache…ER. Jebus she is stressing me out. I try to take a laid back approach to this sort of thing because I don’t want to become some hysterical mom with Googleitis who thinks a mosquito bite is swine flu or some shit then the doctors lock me up for Munchausen by proxy. At the same time, I worry myself sick that what if that tiny little thing is a sign I am missing and I could be harming her by being so laid back? GRRRR.

Also weighing one my mind is my shrink appt next week during which he will ask why I haven’t gone to join those  borderline support groups and let’s face it…If I confide in him my real fears, about the lack of privacy and the way R’s daughter views clients as “that bitch”…he’s going to side with professional with no mental history and I am gonna look like a paranoid freak. And in this tiny town even an anonymous complaint would come back to me…I feel trapped.

On the plus side…Having heat is a wondermous thing. Not even needing a blanket in the morning, getting dressed without shivering…I haven’t worked up to a shower since Friday but…Oh, and for the first time ever (in part to the Liheap grant) my power bill for the month is under $130.

What petrifies me is next  month, which will be due in March…Right at the same time I will need $105 to put a sticker on my car.

So much for a short post.

Anyway…that’s where I am today. I will leave you with this wonderful Medusa portrait my daughter drew for me.

medusasteinbieIt’s never too early to teach about Greek gods, right?


How Do You Explain Crippling Depression To A Child?

Posted in depression with tags , , , on January 23, 2017 by morgueticiaatoms

Two posts in a day, how dare I! Well, considering how few read my posts (and okay, to be fair I, perhaps wrongly, base this on whether someone can be bothered to click *like* or leave a comment, my bad)…When writing mode strikes, I am going with it and call it flood posting, I give zero fucks.

Today I truly was face down in the gutter. Depression, gray gloomy weather, not getting enough restful sleep…I was just wiped out. So I tried to distract myself with CSI:Cyber and chain smoking. Finally, I just gave in to the fact that I was exhausted. There you have it, the woman who does not work was EXHAUSTED. The body runs at a sleep deficit so when you don’t get proper sleep long enough, it takes a toll and yeah, maybe you need a nap.

Or in my case, two brief periods of sleepy respite where I was semi asleep and yet awake enough to bolt up when my background noise of the show ran out so I clicked for the next episode and went back to half snooze mode. The whole time, worrying what if my alarm fails and I am late picking up my kid…True rest simply is not possible in my current state.

As usual when I picked my kid up…she gives me a barrage of questions. “Do we have to go anywhere?’ Nope. “Did you go somewhere?” (meaning “did you get me something.” Nope. Then indignant ‘WHY NOT’.

I went with the usual vague “mommy doesn’t feel so good.” Which considering how my gastrointestinal problems seem set off randomly be it food or stress…isn’t far off.

I know she gets sick of hearing it, so I tried to elaborate by explaining depression to a 7 year old. Yeah, I know, it’s my job to shield her from the harsh realities of my battles lest it saddle her with guilt or responsibility…I just know how much it hurt me when my parents fibbed or blatantly lied to me so I want to break that cycle.

I told her “depression is like being locked in a dark closet and there’s no handle on the inside. You scream, no one hears you. You kick and pummel with your fists (metaphorically) and still, the closet won’t let you out. It is dark, damp, uncomfortable, scary…And you can hear everyone on the outside telling you to let yourself, get over it, stop being a wimp, et al…

But until that closet door decides to open on its own timer…You are lost, trapped, and you mean no harm or bother to anyone. YOU hate it more than anyone around you possibly could because you might be a bother to others…But you are the who IS TRAPPED.

Did I lay too much on a 7 year old?

I doubt it. My kid has many amazing qualities  but empathy thus far is not one of them. Others have noticed it as well. If she can’t muster empathy, then her feelings of guilt as this young age would be nil. Meaning I am simply telling her an ugly truth none of us want to face or admit and yet…it is what it is.

One day she may remember this talk. One day she may be in that dark closet herself and remember mommy is the one to talk to because mommy KNOWS. Even if by the grace of pegacorn she isn’t cursed with bipolar depression, perhaps I can instill in her an understanding and a sense of compassion.

Or the flipside is I leave her with mental scars thus causing her to hate me and anyone who isn’t a shiny happy people whether it is our fault or not. I just believe in being honest. I tell her constantly not to butt in to my adult business for the bills, lack of money,etc, are not her concern. That is on  me and I want to shelter her from it. Let her be a kid.

She’s just a kid, for better or worse, has a mom with faulty brain wiring.

I will emerge from the dark closet of depression when whatever arbitrary time lock the depression has engaged and things will be better again, I just don’t know when. Until then…I hope I have explained to my daughter than my depression is NOT her fault and it’s just something I have to deal with.

If I have scarred her for life…Well, add me to the list of a zillion other parents whose motives were far less well intentioned than mine.

44 Black Balloons

Posted in bipolar depression with tags , , , on January 23, 2017 by morgueticiaatoms

Okay, the old 80’s song is 99 Red Balloons but turning 44 is bad enough without tacking on 54 more years. And red so isn’t my color.

Yesterday was indeed my hatchling anniversary date. I got cards from family members.

Then I had to wash my  bedding first thing cos one of the bulimic cats horked up. I did my dishes, all the while my is b0uncing off walls with wanting to make a cake for me and have a party and all I wanted was some quiet. I did humor her and wear the birthday girl ribbon she bought me. (Pink also not my color.)

The turning point came when it hit me…The pilot light on the oven had gone out. Now every other stove I ever had you could access this by the bottom part, whatever the pull out tray is, a broiler maybe? Not this fucker. No, I Googled up the product number and fixing the pilot on this thing requires ten different steps and dissambly of the on the inside of the oven. For a cake I don’t even want cos I simply don’t eat cake? Uh uh.

Ant that was when my birthday turned into SPOOK’s POUTING DAY and she refused to speak to me and sat in her room pouting and growling every time I tried to talk to her and tell her I know she’s disappointed but we can make a cake any other time if I can get R to light the oven. Nope. She wouldn’t give an inch, just pouted for hours.

Thus brought me day crashing round.

Then my knees started hurting, which generally only happens when I’ve been using lots of stairs or…the weather is about to drastically change to cold.

I did not receive any texts wishing me a happy birthday or even an email from those I considered my close Friends. I wish this didn’t irk me but it kind of days because well, it’s rude and hurtful and if that gives me some new personality disorder, fuck it.

Because I was watching a show where the defendant was given a psych eval and diagnosed borderline and I realized…wow, I do have a tendency to merge my identity in with that of whoever I am in a relationship with. Now I wouldn’t say I would do anything to get them back, let alone commit murder, I don’t really grovel or risk rejection even more but…

That just woke the black abyss in my head and made me realize…I am a lousy person and probably too damaged to be salvaged. Now we all know once that aspect of depression sets in, even your best efforts to fight it are pointless.

So I stuck the spawn in my bed and we were lights out at 8 p.m. cos I didn’t know how much more of my own mind I could stand.

I did not sleep well. I was awake every hour on the hour, mind racing, finding fault with myself over every tiny thing. Even this morning as I drove my kid to school, I pondered how R did all this stuff with his kids and took them to Cancun and they all turned out so successful and popular and…My kid is obviously doomed.

I don’t know how to shake this frame of mind. And as the forecast calls for 5 gray cloudy days in a row, I don’t know it’s going to lift much since the weather does impact my moods so drastically.

I just know I do not like the way I am feeling, at all. I feel pathetic, petty, self pitying, demanding, needy, and like a bigger pain in the ass than a colonoscopy without sedation.

Age means nothing to me, turning 44 had no impact, I’m not rattled about that.

I am rattled because my brain chose that day to betray me with all this bullshit at once to bounce around in my head and make me feel shitty.

Which might be indicative that it is time to take Lithium again because my emotions are growing into a funnel cloud and overwhelming me. Except I so dislike not being able to feel anything at all.

How ironic I was born on the 22nd, my lot number is 22, and my life is an endless loop of Catch 22.

Not my lucky number, obviously.


And Mother Nature Laughs…

Posted in bipolar depression with tags , , , on January 21, 2017 by morgueticiaatoms

So, for those 4 or 5 people who can stomach reading my posts consistently…You are aware of my week of hell involving the furnace and no heat situation. 3 days of the landlord dispatching the professional H-VAC guys, a $200 motherboard installed (which we had to wait overnight for) and still…No heat. The landlord basically blames me for the motherboards failing as I have bugs and cats and all sorts of things that aren’t his problem. Whatevs.

Wednesday night I swallowed every ounce of pride I had because I was sick of me and my kid wearing gloves indoors. I asked R for help, knowing I will basically become an indentured servant.

Guess what?

R managed to do in ONE HOUR what those professionals couldn’t do in 4 days. He cleaned out the A coil with toothbrushes (I have extras, no worries I am reusing them, eww) and he repaired a loose seal with some silicon that was preventing the vacuum needed for the furnace to work properly and blow out heat.

The next morning I woke, not covered in blankets, yet so toasty warm…and I SMILED. What a wondermous thing. Gives me hope maybe the central air might even work properly this summer since all the duct work was sealed AGAIN.

Of course, as is our arrangement, he helped me and I was dispatched to The Google to look for parts. BUT WE HAVE HEAT!!!

Now for the kicker…

That bitchbeast Mother Nature has decided, after two weeks of below freezing temps, while we had no heat…That today is sunny and 64 degrees. In January. I opened a window and am wearing short sleeves and no socks. Isn’t that a  bitch? Freeze for two weeks, now it warms up outside and we’re overheating. Ha ha ha Mother Nature, you funny.

AND I actually went out for margaritas and Mexican food with R and Mrs R last night. Yes, me, in public, and NOT dreading it. (No I spent the prior six hours trying to figure how to cancel but I didn’t.) I guess the margaritas hit me harder than expected cos they sshhed me a couple of times, I was apparently getting too animated and loud. Which is hard for me to discern even without alcohol because I have a loud voice and being quiet is a hard, conscious effort. Oops. My bad. Social skills lacking.

It was nice, though. Nice to go out (her treat, for my birthday tomorrow) nice not to feel resentful for having to go out, nice to not freak out in a crowded restaurant.  Nice that I didn’t have to drive thus worry about all that rigamarole. And I was home by 8 p.m. thus giving me a little me time while Spook was at my mom’s for the night.

I slept in til 11 this morning. Binged more of season one Murder One. Waited for my kid to call and say she was ready to come home. And I picked her up and she presented me with a gold foil bag with nail polish, a card, a candle, for my birthday. (I gave her the money cos she really wanted to get me a gift, which is cool cos not one member of my family is giving me anything and I get being broke, it’s fine but still…even a cooked meal would be nice cos my sister’s lasagna rocks the casbah. R asked what I wanted, I told him a replacement keyboard for this laptop as some keys are missing and 6 days later…He’s still giving me the runaround on waiting til he figures out which credit card has the lowest balance…Why did ask if you are so broke? Pfft.

Truth be known, I splurged on an external keyboard for my desktop, it has low profile keys and lights up blue so I can see to type in dim light. Happy birthday to me. And frankly…Having heat means the best gift ever.

My mental state is…upsy downsy, and I  blame the recent blight of gray damp weather. And unfortunately, we are looking at another week of low temps and clouds so the seasonal depression will probably return to kick my ass down the street.

For today…My kid is outside playing with her friends and happy. We have food and the necessities we need. The car still runs.  Did I mentioned we have HEAT?

The one dark side that has become consuming over the last few months is…Driving. It makes me a nervous wreck. People won’t put down their cell phones, they don’t pay attention and just backing out of a lot or going to a drive thru sends me into panic and paranoia. I am terrified. It’s like my brain’s processor is so out of date it can’t keep up with the new speed processor society runs at. I used to love driving. Now I dread it.

But there will always be a dark cloud even when the sun is shining. That’s life.

So this is my one shiny happy post for the year, my quota has been met. We will return to our regularly schedule depressive rantfest at any random time.


Bipolar Should Also Be Known As Multiple Personality Disorder

Posted in biolar disorder with tags , , , , on January 20, 2017 by morgueticiaatoms

I am not going to get into the long running debate in the DSM and psychiatric world about whether multiple personality disorder (AKA Dissociated Identity Disorder) exists. There is evidence to prove that it does, but there’s also a ton of people who fake it for their own agenda.

What this post is truly about is the never changing shifts of bipolar disorder and how it affects our personalities, behaviors, thoughts, functionality.

Last week I was suffering from my usual 7-10 days of PMS from Hell, aka, menstrual dysphoria, and my mind just went to this whacko place like it did when I was preggo and unmedicated. I was consumed by depression and a sense of being overwhelmed and hobbled. I saw people as threats, allowed their idiosyncrasies (even if rude and without empathy) to grate on my nerves to the point I saw them as villains out to emotionally eviscerate me. (Isn’t estrogen fun??? Men should have some more of it then they’d stop making jokes about pms and periods!)

This week, shark week arrived and while the cramps and back pain were agonizing…My mind cleared and while depressive sluggishness tugs me down still…I am seeing things more clearly, with less terror and paranoia. I am functioning, albeit it only because I have no choice, but also…I am not feeling that all consuming resentment for having to functional even minimally. (Though today’s forced trip to Wal-Mart was deeply resented and with cause, cos, um, people are maniacs and the place always leaves me overheated and anxious.)

It amazes me how every month I become an entirely different person for 7-10 days. Throw in bipolar and anxiety disorder on top of it…I’m never entirely sure who I am. Thus why I was so comfortable with the former therapists classifying me as “personality disorder otherwise not specified.” I am fucked up, for sure, but I never saw myself as having flaws of that nature without good explanations of how I came to be/see that way.

Suddenly, 20 years into my treatment, “borderline personality disorder” starts getting tossed out. And I do have a problem with that because…I don’t have a problem with rejection, it is pretty much all I have ever known. I am not afraid to be alone. I don’t buy into the monogamy thing cos the second you do, even Prince Charming can’t keep it in his pants yet expects total loyalty from you. I am not a relationship person. I do brief jaunts trying to be in relationships because sure, I get bored, but mostly…Parents and society have programmed me to believe I MUST attempt relationships even if it always makes me miserable and is not what I want.

So if that makes me borderline…so be it. I can only think of two instances where I clearly showed borderline traits and that was at the end of the two relationships in my life where I was so rudely kicked to the curb because my depression was too rough on them. Sure, I cried, I begged them to give me another chance, I wanted to FOLLOW through on one thing in my life rather than give up because it’s too hard. Histrionic? Perhaps. The common denominator, after the histrionics, was ALWAYS, every single time, coming out of the haze and realizing…I am happier on my own. No joke.

My personality seems to ebb and flow with hormones and the endless bipolar up and down cycle, not to mention when the panxiety turns me into a suspicious cornered album thinking people are a threat even when there is no proof of that.

When you are depressed…everything is shit. You don’t care how you look or if you haven’t bathed and smell bad…You don’t care if the sink is full of dirty dishes or your carpet has enough gunk on it to qualify as a health hazard. None of it can touch you in the black abyss of depression when survival is your only goal and it seems more like a curse because death would be easier.

At the same time…hit a manic episode and THE WORLD TRULY IS FULL OF RAINBOW FARTING UNICORNS AND YOU ARE TEN FEET TALL AND BULLETPROOF! Nothing touches you, you are just blissed out and energy flows out of every pore, making you seem like some kind of genius dynamo. You forget your own moral code, you do things that in a clear state of mind you’d find wrong but during mania…ha ha ha, throw caution to the wind, oh, wait, what is caution? Who cares, it’s harshing my mellow, run up the credit card debts! Oh, that guy whose name I don’t even know is looking kinda hot after a few drinks, I should totally do him!

Mania does not know consequence or morality or guilt.

And then…there are the so rare and brief periods of lucidity, when the meds all work and all the stars align and you feel…some semblance of normal and all your faculties work properly. You look back on your slothful depressive periods with disgust. You look back on your manic episodes with a deep sense of shame, embarrassment, and “what the fuck was I thinking???”

So if our lives constantly revolve around this disorder and all its mental distortions…How can our personalities truly be gauged as disordered? Because what makes me feel hurt on Monday might bounce off of me by Friday and leave me puzzled as to why I got my panties in a bunch.

It truly is like having multiple personalities, only you are aware of them and none of them are there to protect you from emotional trauma. They are there to wreak havoc and cause emotional trauma in some form.

I don’t have any illusions about how some of my thinking is indeed distorted due to past traumas and programming. Kinda like my parents staying married 28 years even though they hated each other and fought constantly. Love/hate is imbedded deeply inside me. That’s not bipolar, that is a flaw.

But if distorted thoughts convince me someone is a threat one month…Then the fog lifts a week or two later, leaving me confused as to why I felt the way I did…

It’s just bad code. Genetics as a computer program. Software aka brain wiring corrupt. Operating system Windows M(igraine) E (edition). Constantly crashing, unstable.

People have no problem grasping electronic knowledge, as in one bad part can take the entire item down…Or diabetes where too low or too high blood sugar can alter a person’s behavior. Those things aren’t blamed or labeled disordered.

Why is it so hard for people to grasp that the brain is just as complex as a car and if one short in the circuitry is bad…The entire machine fails to operate to its full potential?

I can’t fix the bipolar and its cycles.

I try to fix what I can with my personality faults. Though my quirks I rather like even if the Douchebag Status Module says it’s a disorder.

It makes you wonder…Is YOUR shrink flawless? Or maybe they have a drinking problem or cheat on their spouse or they use drugs or maybe they’re narcissistic and have a diagnosis of their own? Can we really trust them to judge us when they too are merely human thus fallible?

I have long said…The ONLY way to not have a personality disorder and be a clean slate is to be a newborn.

Anyone who lives a few years will go through things that leave a mark, help form a disorder or distorted thinking or bias.

So I am not gonna focus on my quirks or disorders of personality. My intentions are pure, my dedication to bettering myself is genuine.

If I seem like a different person and it cycles endlessly…

Maybe bipolar disorder really is a thing and it’s high time the ostriches of society take their heads out of the sand and recognize it.