19 December 2011

To Cut... a poem.

A poem I wrote as a submission to a book.

I.
To cut, to harm oneself,
Pain to relieve pain
An addiction in itself -
Driving a person insane.

When emotions are intense
When everything goes wrong
When you can't handle it
The urge to cut is strong.

When you want to feel
The sting of the blade
You think of none else -
Until that slit is made.

II.
A minute leads to an hour
An hour leads to a day
A day leads to two -
Not gonna cut today.

Two days leads to a week
One week leads to two
Slipping is not an option -
Gonna make it a year or two.

Two years turns to three
Three turns to four
Slipping is not an option -
Gonna try for four more.

III.
Eight years from the end
Strength from the core
Cutting isn't an idea -
It won't happen anymore.

Countless hours on a couch
Countless colorful pills
Countless tears falling -
Gave me great coping skills.

The option is not available
My brain refuses it to be
Eight years will turn to nine
And I'll still be cut free.

06 December 2011

Response to Living with Bipolar Disorder - An Alternative Perspective

This, my 100th blog is a response to "Living with Bipolar Disorder - An Alternative Perspective" found as a comment to my Suicide post. While I agree, to a point, with the anti-society sentiment I feel this guy is way off base when it comes to bipolar.

First, the author claims to be self-healed from ADD/ADHD, meaning "I'm fine with me" I accept me totally. I see what my true qualities are and what my emotional reactions are. I no longer have a "self-image", positive or negative. I am no longer trying to fit in, but seeking ways to express myself through my talents." To me that is merely reaching the level of self acceptance needed to survive, mentally ill or not. He does have one thing right, living with bipolar is not a picnic, at all.

The question really isn't "Why can't I just be me?" the question is "Why do I, and everyone around me, have to weather the ups and downs of my bipolar?" Bipolar isn't a matter of fitting into society or not, it is a matter of the mental torment one has to live with. This torment doesn't really stop when we're on an even keel, like I am now, it just hides until a day when you're least expecting it. Anyone that's accepted living with the disease accepts the fact that it's difficult to fit into society. I'm sure it's difficult for normal people too.

Intelligent people in general would rather be left alone to our own devices than be molded into something we're not. Yes that makes us "rebellious" in the eyes of society, but that's just the way things are.

The negative side of bipolar is NOT "a reaction to the social rejection and the tension of not being able to simply live authentically." Repressed tension is not why we lash out. Typically the lashing out is during the aggressive manic stage or depression, or as with the case with me, when you take us out of the high manic state. Nothing pisses me off more than someone pissing in my Wheaties. Not only is lashing out not socially acceptable, it is hard on everyone around us to deal with. Yes, it is as simple as a mood swing. Our mood switches and we get irritable and lash out at any stupid little thing that bothers us, like leaving the toilet seat up. Depending on how bad the rage is, it can be an expensive endeavor as well. Fixing holes in the wall sucks, just so you know.

I don't always have a negative self image. Sometimes I'm manic and think I'm the hottest piece of ass on Earth and more intelligent than Einstein. The negative self image comes in with the depression cycle. The only thing society has to do with it is I get paranoid and think the world is out to get me, but that's not really a societal issue.

No, the majority of society doesn't understand bipolar, nor do they care to. They don't understand what it's like to go from depressed to manic to depressed to manic to depressed to manic in a matter of a day. They don't know what it's like to be suicidal one minute and chipper the next. Labeling bipolar medically is not an attempt to pigeonhole anything into a mental prison of self-loathing. Our mind does that to ourselves well before any trip to the doctor, psych or any diagnosis. Again, this has nothing to do with rejection by society... it has to do with a biological and chemical imbalance in our brain. It isn't because of the hurt caused by societal rejection that our symptoms show up, it is because of our malfunctioning brain.

The bipolar mind's burden is far from an inferiority complex given by society. The disease is not an illusion, it is really a pain in the ass. Yes it comes with gifts such as higher creativity, yes society seems to frown upon it (as do teachers in elementary and high school *coughcough McFee and Wigger), but therapy and medication are essentials in living with this disease. If it weren't for therapy and medication I would have killed myself long ago. At my worst I was a cutter. It had nothing to do with society, it had to do with personal problems I was facing at the time. Put simply, life is definitely hell without the medication and therapy.

Society really is not a facade. Whether we like it or not we have to try to deal with it on a daily basis. That doesn't necessarily mean we have to fit in, we just have to be able to co-exist. While I agree that not being normal is part of the disease, there is a point where it becomes life threatening if not kept on top of.

To be mentally ill means we have more responsibilities to ourselves and to society. Just reread - Being Responsibly Mentally Ill or Being a Responsible Lunatic for my personal beliefs on responsibility.

Tschüss, Boudicca.

30 November 2011

Suicide and updates.

Yesterday a beloved local meteorologist died. He committed suicide. This obviously struck a chord with me because I've been suicidal so many times and have attempted it 3 times.

Naturally there have been comments to the effect of "what a waste" and "all he did was hurt his family." This enraged me. These comments are obviously coming from people who don't know what it's like to suffer from depression (or any other mental illness). They don't know what it's like to be suicidal, the thoughts that are in our heads when we just want to die, the torment we experience.

Our desire for peace at that time overrides any rational thinking that might occur. The only way we see getting peace is by killing ourselves. We're not usually thinking about how hard it is on our families and friends. In my case I figured they didn't really give a shit about me anyway and would be relieved I was no longer a problem in their lives. I just wanted the psychological and emotional pain to go away. That's what every suicidal person wants. We want the peace we see "everyone else" having.

That being said, I hope his friends and family can understand where his mind had to have been for even the thought of suicide to appear. I wish them peace during their time of grief, and I hope they use his fame as a chance to reach out to the community and help other mental illness sufferers whether they be suicidal or not.

As for me, I'm doing fine. My medicine seems to be straightened out, I seem to be evening out and life seems to be going good right now. I spent Thanksgiving with newfound friends and had a great time. I was glad I didn't have to deal with my family. They trigger me so hard and so much I don't want very many of them in my life. That is a conscious decision I have made, however my counselor hopes I don't end up regretting it. I figure my family cannot accept me so I don't need them.

I'm exercising, drinking water and eating better and I have lost 14 lbs in 3 weeks. I'm down to 250 now so I have another 110 to go. It will come off and it will stay off.

31 October 2011

Happy Halloween

It's been awhile since my last post. It's now Halloween, my favorite day of the year. The Chiefs are playing Monday Night Football tonight, they'll probably lose, but it should be interesting seeing all of the costumes the fans come up with.

I've been fighting my bipolar all month. The trigger that caused the last post was intense. I don't think I'm quite over it yet. My Shakespeare class was stressing me the fuck out so I dropped it since I was going to fail it anyway. That just means there's that much more pressure to pass it next fall.

My fat ass broke the computer chair. That made me real happy.

I went to the doctor last week to find out I've gotten even fatter and am now up to 263.8 lbs. Record weight for me. That pissed me off. My blood pressure was high at 130 over something which confused me and pissed me off. They drew labs and naturally my blood sugar was high. I just found out about that. That pissed me off. My body is pissing me off.

The doctor took me off of Risperidone and put me on Abilify hoping that medicine is part of the cause of the dramatic weight gain. I switched from Mt. Dew to mostly water... allowing myself a 20 oz of dew a day which is better than 2 liters. I'm doing good to get the entire 20 oz drank though... but have been downing 2-3 liters of water a day.

I started actually using my The Biggest Loser game for my Wii. Made it through the first week. Weigh in is tomorrow. I think Bob Harper and Jillian Michaels are trying to kill me. 30 minutes on "light" is nothing to sneeze at. And it's hardly light exercise if I'm sucking air 2 minutes in. I bowled for 4 hours Friday night with a new friend and bowled 5 games today.

Now if I could get Dad out of the house for an hour on Saturday and Sunday I could get a weekend routine in too. A friend and I are going to start working out 3 days a week while I incorporate bowling 5 games 3 days a week and probably for 4 hours on Friday night. Bowling supposedly burns 164 calories an hour. It's better than nothing, plus it's a fun workout. I'm tempted to weigh in now but I'll wait until tomorrow. I'll be pissed if I gained weight.

Yes I'm kind of manic at the moment as I'm sure you can tell by the rambling incoherence of this post. Maybe one of these days I'll just be normal.

03 October 2011

All It Took To Set Me The Fuck Off...

Listening to: Chimaira

All it took to set me the fuck off was one name. Jon Spiers. I was having a shitty, down day before I saw his name, then I saw it and immediately wanted to kill someone. Him.

The one person who causes me to black out into a blind rage and I had to see his name on my  nieces Facebook wall. I should just quit Facebook. It causes me more harm and detriment than it does me good. The only reason for staying is because of friends that live far away.

Some little pissant that cannot even spell called me an uneducated asshole. That set me the fuck off. All I did was ask her if she was trying to kill herself since she was drinking and taking Loratab. Excuse the fuck out of me for trying to watch out for a bitch.

Fuck, if I wasn't taking Wellbutrin I'd be downing as much Jagermeister as I possibly could right now. It's been one of those days. But who the fuck cares about what kind of day I'm having? Nobody. That's fucking who.

My niece, in her naivety, cannot see why her getting along with my asshat brothers and their families means I cannot trust her. I can't trust anybody who is their friend or gets along with them. I can't stand them playing the same games on her that they played on me. She'll never understand why I can't completely trust her. It's because she's too trusting. Too fucking forgiving. She's not really taking my side, she just thinks she is.

I'll just continue being the white trash piece of shit asshole this entire fucking family sees me as... at least I'd be being true to myself. I'll never be anything but a white trash asshole. Never have been either. My innocence and trusting was robbed from me at a young age. I knew this fucking family were nothing but rabid hyenas. Then I have my niece trying to get too close, trying to cling to me. Suffocating me. What happens if I let her too close and she ends up being like the rest of the assholes in the family? I end up looking like even more of an asshole for trusting anyone with the last name Spiers. Spiers is a shitty name. I should totally change my name, or better yet, just fucking kill myself and save myself the pain of another 40 years.

27 September 2011

One Year Ago

One year ago on this date at 5:17 a.m. my mother left me. I was alone. My boyfriend was so distant I decided to leave him on the same day. I was alone. I was mentally, emotionally and physically drained. With her death my life changed for the worse. I no longer had any family member I could trust. Both sides of my family are like starving, rabid hyenas... as soon as you turn your back on them they'll try to stab it with rusty objects.

One year ago on this date at 5:17 a.m. I died with her. I was feeling the effects of two major losses. I figured out who my real friends were. I figured out who really cared about Mom. Let's just say she had many fairweather friends who didn't bother showing up to the wake.

I had the support of a friend who would later betray me by ending the friendship. I still mourn the loss of my mother. I still have ill feelings toward the lying bastard that said he would always be my friend, proved himself worthy while I was in the darkest part of my life, then took it all back, ripping me apart worse than my boyfriend ever could.

One year ago I lost my biggest fan. Mom wasn't always my fan. She used to abuse the living shit out of me until I was about 22. Then she decided I was a human with value and worth, something the rest of my "elders" still haven't figured out. Mom grew to see the talent of the written word I possess and eventually tried her best to encourage me to make something out of myself by writing. Even at her end when I grew into death and black metal she encouraged me. She didn't understand it, the lifestyle or the lyrics, she just knew that it was a release for me, which is something not very many people understand.

One year ago I lost my Mom. The hole will never be filled.

29 August 2011

Listening to: Nile - Those Whom The Gods Detest
Listening to: Cannibal Corpse - Tomb of the Mutilated
Mood: Somber and Pissed

Today was the first day of classes for me. It was a good day. The Sociology professor I have is a riot. I'm not sure English is my German instructor's first language though. At least she knows German and can communicate it to us. Tomorrow I get to tackle Shakespeare and Composition Theory, and probably another lesson in PE. Yay.

It was a bittersweet day as well. I didn't have a mother to come home to and babble about my day to. Dad didn't seem to much care about my day. I got to see long lost friends, one who lost her father just before her birthday. It just reminded me of how difficult this past year has been for me and how difficult it's going to be for her.

The anniversary for Mom's death is coming upon us, as is her birthday. I'm not looking forward to it. The grief counselor suggested doing some sort of ritual like burning her favorite candle, cooking a specific meal or something. I'll probably bake a cake on her birthday and figure something out to do on the anniversary.

Other than that there have been many sleepless nights or sleep impaired nights and a tremendous amount of rage towards some people that did not help ease Mom's death at all. The more I think about it the more pissed I get, the fucking lying, game playing, manipulation and I couldn't be sure she was getting the care she deserved and needed while I was gone. Not to mention I couldn't do any homework because nobody would leave the house once I got home allowing Mom and myself the quiet time we had scheduled. I should tell you about the day I came home and nobody had fed her. I was real impressed... NOT.

The nurse practitioner/counselor lady person told me to write a letter expressing all of my anger. Boy will she get an eye full. She thinks it'd be good to get it off of my chest. I'd honestly rather slap everyone upside the head for being one or more of the following: a) Stupid b) Manipulative c) A lying ass bitch d) A dumbfuck e) incompetent f) so self absorbed in their own sorrow (though she wasn't dead yet) that they failed to do what Mom wanted done in the first place, get her shit divvied up so nobody would argue over who gets what  g) Manipulative h) Manipulative i) Manipulative or j) understood that they were to leave when I got home from school. They were only needed when Dad and I were both gone. Oh there's k) Staying til 2 a.m. so I couldn't fucking have the peace and quiet I needed to do my homework to try to keep up with Mom dying and schoolwork at the same time and can't forget l) Not even around even though you live 3 miles away.

Did I mention Manipulative? How about backstabbing? What about thinking that they can come in my fucking house, move everything, spring clean every day of the week, tell me that the schedule Mom and I made up was confusing, although everyone else in the fucking world, even Joe could figure it out, I made it that easy to follow, come in my fucking house and pick fights with me when it's my house and my fucking duty to make sure Mom got taken care of? Did I mention any of that shit? If not, I'm sorry I omitted it. It must have slipped my mind. Did I mention that I know Connie called to complain that we were not taking adequate care of Mom and that a certain someone ran right to her to try to usurp my authority? Yeah that didn't work so fucking well now did it?

All it did was remind me that I couldn't trust any of them around Mom alone so they weren't. Especially when one of them wanted to fucking roll her over when she was on an air mattress and in excruciating pain and not wanting to roll. Yeah the nurse sat on the couch for a reason. Only certain people were allowed alone with her for a reason. Don't think I don't know shit that happened, that I'm stupid, that I'm blind, or that I've forgotten. I haven't. I'll look at them with contempt for the rest of my life. Mom didn't deserve to have her final days like that.

I'm like Stalin, I hold a grudge for life. They've fucked up. I don't have to play nice. I won't play nice. I'll always remember the bullshit that went on. Bullshit that would have gotten a nurse fired from a job. Bullshit that was simply someone's dysfunctional need for drama. I regret these people coming back into our lives. I regret the bullshit that happened. I regret not dropping that entire semester and staying home myself to make sure she was taken care of 24/7 rather than spending the entire time I was at class trying to stay awake and worrying about Mom. The only time I didn't worry was when I knew hospice was here to take care of her.

I'm. Like. Stalin. I. Hold. A. Grudge. For. Life. - Never. Forget. Never. Forgive.

And to top that off my fucking legs are edemic. Yay.

Hammer Smashed Face by Cannibal Corpse

15 August 2011

Upstanding Member of Society

I'm still experiencing mixed episodes. I'm getting so sick of the lows, sick of my own thoughts, memories, dreams (when I can sleep) and this messed up sleep pattern I've found myself in... awake at 5 p.m. asleep at 6 a.m. I'm sick of being in my own skull, my own skin. I'm sick of being me. I'm sick of never catching a break.

I'm unemployable, even without the piercings. If I could land a job I wouldn't be able to hold it down and attend college at the same time... hell I just wouldn't be able to hold it down. Even the nurse practitioner/therapist said I'd have a hard time holding down jobs.

I can't get help in the form of disability (trying for the 3rd time but not holding my breath) or vocational rehabilitation since you have to have a job for voc rehab to help you. I don't have the GPA (thanks bipolar) to work on campus 20 hours a week. I need to concentrate on classes this semester. I need a 3.5 every semester from here on out. I need to retake some F's and D's which means waiting around for the classes to be offered again. I'm never going to graduate.

I haven't heard from Dave for over a week, closer to two. He knows it drives me nuts when he doesn't call me, and I end up rummaging through all of the obituaries I can find just to see if his name is in there. I thought he understood the hell it puts me through to not hear from him, and how it makes me feel like I'm just a piece of ass to him, nothing important, nobody worthy of his love, nobody worthy of a phone call just to say hi, I'm OK.

I'm looking forward to classes starting up again, but I'm also reserved. It isn't a matter of "if" the bipolar is going to kick in and wreak havoc on my classes, it's a matter of "when." I need to work on revising my autobiography and try to get it published within a year too. I need to work on my historical fictions. I need to work on my epic poem about Boudicca's revolt. I need to do a lot of things.

I need to be a part of society, but that's never going to happen. I'm always going to be an outsider, a loser, the one who falls through every left-wing crack known to man. If Dad were to keel over tomorrow I'd be on the streets, homeless, jobless, with no chance of getting a job. All because I had to be born fucked in the head.

10 August 2011

Speeding Tickets and Relationships

So I got a speeding ticket with a seat belt violation today, I was running late to my counselor appointment. It only made me more late. Yay. More money given to the City of Saint Joseph. He got me dead to rights though. Dad's not happy about it. Can't say as I am either, it's my license that gets points on it for each moving violation I get caught at, not his.

Anyway I am supposed to come up with a list of things I'm good at for our next meeting. I can't think of much, writing, cooking, sarcasm. That's as far as the list has gotten, I don't see it growing much. Maybe Dave can help out with it... if he ever calls again. Probably busy with the garden.

Otherwise, I was reading blogs and came across this one Relationships how does bipolar figure into it? It got me to thinking about Frank and Dave. It's easy to make me freak out due to stressors (like losing a friend or just the thought of it) and that's something Frank couldn't cope with. Dave on the other hand understands I don't see the world in the same way he does and forgives freakouts and transgressions, also unlike Frank.

While the author states:
Keep in mind, crazy is normal to us. We’re used to disasters and to facing challenges. When our world comes crashing down on us, it’s often no big deal. Paradoxically, we are often in far better shape to deal with the situation. 
I have to slightly disagree with him. Us crazy people have our limits to our worlds crashing down around us. There is a point where it will make us go batshit crazy to the point of self injury or suicidal thoughts. I should know, I've been there far more than I'd like to have been. The thing is you need a partner, and friends, that can weather the storms of your insanity. While Frank proved himself in the beginning, he disproved himself in the end. Dave... especially after sitting on the bench awhile, has gone the distance. He's defended me when I was being attacked behind my back, he's let me cry and ramble on when the flashbacks flood my brain, and he's been a friend when I needed one. Dave has just been my rock, I guess he missed me while I was gone.

I don't think either realize I carry a grudge like Stalin did. Never forgive, never forget.

08 August 2011

Up, down, up, down, up

The August hell is setting in. August is always my worst month because I'm isolated, bored and intellectually unstimulated. I've been manic/hypomanic quite a bit lately... which means screwed up sleep patterns, inability to fall asleep, paranoia, agitation and creative juices flowing. I've missed two appointments with one counselor and one appointment with the other. I have to go tomorrow regardless of how I feel... at least that's what I'm telling myself. I don't know if the counseling is helping or not, it's at least someone to talk to in the real world.

I spent the day today spamming Youtube videos on my Facebook wall. I'm sure people appreciate the fine quality of black and death metal. If not, they're missing out on high quality music. I'm full of energy. I'm twitching as I write this. I have lyrics, poems and books flooding my brain, begging to be put down on paper or an electronic version of it. My brain just won't shut down.

The more I think about it, the more I realize I just suck at interpersonal relationships. Yeah, I've been thinking about Frank and how he abandoned me. I should have known better than to listen to some asshole that says "I'll always be your friend." Been there done that, got the scars to prove it. I suppose it was my fault, at least in his mind it was. I shouldn't have relied on him. I shouldn't have ever let him as close as he did. He was allowed into my emotional keep and he set the fuckin' place on fire. Too bad he had his own hangups about whether he was sending me mixed signals or not, instead of listening to me, and paying attention to what I was saying and doing he just decides he's sending mixed signals (after I told him a million times he wasn't) he just decided I wasn't worth having in his life anymore. Well fuck me. I should have known better than let my emotions and thoughts get the better of me, but they did. I guess the price to pay is abandonment. I'll never get to hang out with him again... I'll never get to talk to him again... I'll never be anything he gives a shit about again. Someone I invested a lot of time and money into and called a friend sees me now as a piece of shit stuck to the bottom of his shoe. How fucking wonderful.

I can't help it, it pisses me off the way shit ended between us. Losing a friend is as bad as losing a lover, at least it is in my eyes, especially a friend that proved himself to be trustworthy and accepting. Guess he wasn't as accepting as he thought he was. Guess he's not as awesomesauce as I thought he was. It's too bad he never believed me when I said I wasn't carrying a torch for him anymore... that I was back with Dave, which is honestly what I wanted the entire time now that I think about it.

Hell, Dave and I are stronger than ever now that he sat on the bench for awhile... why would I leave that? Why would I leave someone that's honestly had my back for the last 8 years, who accepts me for me even if he doesn't like it? He tries to be there for me as much as he can... he's getting better. I guess one could say he's mellowing with age.

So why do I "dwell" on Frank? Lack of closure for one, unanswered questions, paranoid thoughts and feelings cropping up, like who has he talked to about me, why, what was said and do they now think I'm a psychopath too? Include the desire to call him a pussy that abandons friends when a piece of ass comes along, the desire to go the fuck off on him in a fit of emotionally pained rage and the desire for him to see how much he's hurt me by being an abandoning pussy. The only part of me that "pines" for Frank is the one that wants real friends in her life, people I can call on when I need someone to talk me off of the ledge since hospitals are now out of the question, people that accept me and love me for who I am, not ones that get scared off by the disease that makes me who I am, that shapes me, that is me.

27 July 2011

After the last fruitless blog post I figure it's time for an update for anyone who cares. I just took my last Klonopin and can't get more until Friday, assuming I can get to the Dr. since Dad has my truck this week and his car won't make it to town without losing all of its water.

Overall I'm in a better place than I have been, and it's been a fight getting this far. I still have setbacks, like thinking about Frank and wanting to kick him in his lying, abandoning, promise breaking balls. I've been having lots of flashbacks too, those don't help at all. It seems the world is still against me, though Frank absolutely believes the world doesn't care. It's the people in it who don't care about me or anyone else, him being one of the non-caring dickheads. It feels so great being thrown away like garbage by someone who was supposed to be your best friend, and then have it blamed on you. Hopefully he still reads this blog. If he does here's the message: That was a bullshit and pussy move you pulled. Thank you for shitting on me.

Dave and I are going strong. He's working himself to death in the gardens and yards (he takes care of his mother's place too). He's actually been calling and saying "I love you" in return to mine. Maybe those months of sitting on the curb taught him I'm not going to put up with bullshit and discompassion forever. Still he called 8 times while I was locked up in the asylum. He didn't have to. We weren't together. He didn't have to come get me when they let me out. Now he finds time to call or come over or even better, take me fishing. He has rarely snapped at me for no fault of mine... and when he has I've stood my ground and told him to fuck off if he's going to treat me like shit for no reason today.

Dad and I are getting along still. It's rather scary because I know it's going to blow up again sometime. He read the letter and the only response was "I don't agree with everything you've written" and an explanation about my movies like they were the most important thing on the list. No discussion. No information. Nothing. It's the same response I got when he read the chapter of my autobiography dedicated to him and my asshole brothers.

I'm on a bit of a downslope at the moment because the collection agency Heartland Health and its doctors send overdue bills to called again saying I owe them money when the fucking bill has been paid. She said it's going to another collection agency and I'm going to have to pay overdue fines and other fees because I didn't voluntarily pay them $375 from my money shitting ass. I don't know why it bothers me as much as it is, but it does and it creates stress, anxiety and depression. I'm never going to the hospital again, for any reason, even if I'm suicidal. I'll just take my chances and hope it works out.

Since Dad has the only working vehicle to go to work every day until he gets his car fixed, I'm more isolated than normal. The Sims 3 is getting boring. TV is boring. I'm broke and couldn't go anywhere if I had money. Hopefully the car is fixed soon and the isolation I'm experiencing doesn't become all consuming like it does every August when I'm not in school.

09 July 2011

Letter to Dad

Dad,

While I realize we haven't fought in a few weeks, that is a rare thing, and I think it's only because I spent most of my $300 financial aid refund on food for us.

When we do argue you absolutely make me feel like dog shit and you seem to enjoy it. I don't need to hear that you're going to be the one paying back my student loans all of the time. I don't need to be told in so many words that I'm a failure. I already know I am. You go for the jugular and hit below the belt every single time we fight. You know damn well that badmouthing Mom is going to set me off more than I'm already going off, so why do it?

I'm not sure you even love me for real. I feel like you just tolerate me because I'm the piece of shit that you created. I can only remember one good thing you and I did together when I was growing up and that was making homemade apple pies. The rest of it is me begging you to do things with me, take me places and to stop picking on me. Your version of teasing is not cute, it cuts me to the bone every time. It always has. And you let Joe and Jon tease me the same way. Neither you nor Mom defended me whatsoever.

I was fed to the wolves from day one. You knew Mom was excessively using corporal punishment to the point I was welted and bruised but you didn't do a damn thing to stop her. You didn't do a damn thing to stop Grandma and Marsha and everyone else from using me as their personal dysfunctional toy, someone to bitch at and hyper criticize because I would defend myself against their attacks, I wouldn't mold myself to their super religious views of what a child and woman should be. Shit this Fourth of July was the first family gathering I've been to where I wasn't the victim of some asshole's attacks that you just sit back and watch, or more honestly, join in on.

Why did you never defend me? Why wasn't I ever good enough to take fishing? Why did you think it was cute I would bang my head into the wall instead of seeing it for what it was, a warning sign that something wasn't right? Why did you decide it had to be me against the world from the beginning? The only solace I got was from Grandpa Lowry and that was too short lived. At least I knew he wasn't going to hit me or tease me or criticize me to the point of wanting to die. Yeah, I was suicidal by the time I was in the fourth grade but nobody noticed or cared. Nobody cares if I'm suicidal now.

How come when we fight now you have to hit below the belt? Why do we even have to fight? Why do you always start it by yelling at me for no reason, making me feel like dog shit that you stepped in? Why did you have to tell me that you've resigned yourself to living with me until you die, like I'm some horrible thing? Did you stop to think how that sounded coming out of your mouth and how it would make me feel? Why did you always attack Mom every chance you got to make her feel like shit too? Why do you always tell me I'm just like her in every bad way? And why are my missing pornos in your desk drawer?

Ups and Downs

I sit here rather pissed at the moment, trying to relax to Belphegor.

I've had a tough week as far as everything goes. Right now it's just easy as hell to piss me off. I keep cycling from mild manic to mild depressed. Today is apparently agitated manic. And in looking for my headphones in Dad's desk I found my missing pornos. Not that they'd do me any good, my medicine has completely zapped my libido. Yay for Dave and I.

My estranged aunt and I came into contact after months of not speaking. I discovered she looks too much like Mom. All she wanted to talk about was the dysfunction on her side of the family that her and Mom grew up with, then remind me that I wasn't the only one that got hit and tried to defend Dad by saying he tried to defend me. He never tried to defend me. His version of teasing fucked me up royally and he allowed my piece of shit brothers to be hypercritical and follow his flavor of teasing.

Then I got into it tonight with her daughter, likely because she thinks I'm snitching. I'm impressed that she read my holiday blog. I'm impressed anyone reads this thing. She told me I made my point clear... good. And while I'm making points I can have whoever the fuck I want in my life. Fortunately there's very few I want in my life. Aunt and cousin pending decision. I'm still pissed at how the whole Mom dying thing went down with those two. I ended up getting an F in German because I couldn't do my homework by the way. Hope you're happy. Now I have to waste another 3 credit hours fixing it so I can go on with my studies. Then again, I actually give a fuck about finishing school with a better GPA than my current bipolar/dying parent induced 2.5.

I've had 2 shitty nights of sleep. Thursday night I swear I heard Mom yelling at me to do something for her. I woke up every hour Thursday night. Didn't sleep well last night either. Probably won't sleep well tonight. I can hardly wait to try. It should be a ton of fun.

04 July 2011

Relatives and Holidays.

We celebrated the Fourth on the Second. Amazingly enough my family was somewhat behaved toward me... that was probably because there were other people to pick on. The biggest cringe/want to stab moment was when the little ginger kid was throwing a fit because he couldn't go outside (he was overheated) and Grandma in her infamous ways said "Oooooh those tears come quick don't they?" I wanted to smack her. It's a good thing the kid probably couldn't understand what she said. I took enough of the shit like that as a kid when I couldn't understand it and when I could understand the insults being hurled at me.

The brother that lives close came for dinner and fireworks at Grandma's with the rest of us. His wife cut her hair and I didn't recognize her so I was glaring at her trying to figure out what strange bitch my brother had and wondering if his wife knew he had the strange bitch with him. Oops. No I wasn't drunk, her haircut changed her appearance that much and she didn't talk so I couldn't peg her for her voice. Yes, I face palmed.

I guess Dad's side of the family can get along with me as long as we're blowing shit up. This is probably the first get together ever that I was not the target of insults and belittlement... at least not to my face. Maybe they're finally learning that I fight back.

Somehow it got brought up that both of my counselors want me to have a dialogue with Dad about our arguing, what it does to me, how it makes me feel, etc.. to which the response was, we don't fight. Granted we haven't fought lately (probably because I used most of my $300 on food) but that doesn't stop the fact that when we do fight he hits below the belt as soon as he can and as much as he can and pushes every single button imaginable... especially badmouthing Mom. That sets me off quicker than anything else. I'm thinking of writing him a letter with all the shit in it. I'm better at getting my point across by written word rather than spoken.

Apparently there's still tension between the two warring factions involved in the molestation case (which goes to trial later this month). What one side doesn't realize is small children don't usually make this shit up, and I can totally fuck up that side's day by telling them about their son molesting me from 8-13, not that I would be believed by anybody in this dysfunctional family. It'll all come out in the book I'm authoring at the moment anyway. I personally believe the victim and think the one side needs to wake up to reality.

Factions are warring on Mom's side as well. One person can't see that she's abusive and needs psychological help as bad as my fucked up brain does, the other can't see that she neglected her kids enough that foster care has them and she needs psychological help as well. DFS doesn't just arbitrarily take children away. Then again there are plenty of kids that DFS should take that they don't. Personally I think they should all be in foster care and away from the dysfunction of the family until some epiphanies are made.

Both sides of my family are completely messed up. I fell victim to both sides, including my immediate family. I hate to see other children being sucked into the lifeless void of my family.

As you can tell my give a shit is busted. I just don't care about anything anymore... and I'm not about to hold back when I see injustice.

27 June 2011

Boundaries? I don't respect boundaries?

So I finally see Frank today, bright and early after a shit night of sleep because I had 2 dogs hogging the bed during the hellatious storm and having forgotten to take my meds this morning. He returned some books and told me that all contact had to be cut off because I don't respect boundaries. What fucking boundary did I cross this time? Was it blogging about him? Was it still trying to be friends with the knowledge that he has a girlfriend? I was behaving myself. OK I got a little obsessive with the calling once or twice a week, but I was getting over that since he was ducking my calls. I think I have a right to be pissed and hurt.

I feel lied to. This person said he would always be my friend. Lies. All fucking lies. I feel disrespected and that credit has not been given to me for a) not going insane enough to cut or try to commit suicide (an improvement). b) actually backing off. c) being loyal enough that I'd have done anything for him. d) wasting my time in a 1 year friendship that was supposed to last "forever" and ending up hurt in the end. Unlike somebody I know I would have communicated that there was a problem instead of being a pussy and spontaneously cutting off all contact.

The counselor I talked to today said I can't look at or think about things in the extremes. That's hard to do when someone who was your friend kicks you in the fucking teeth. I still don't know what boundary I crossed this time. It helps when the boundaries don't move all over the fucking place. I won't respect boundaries... I bet someone's ex wife helped him come up with that.

So Frank, thanks for the lies and heartache. Much appreciated. It's just too bad you aren't strong enough to handle intense friendships. Don't fuckin sit there and tell me it's because I read everything as a mixed signal either. I've been back with Dave for a while, happily at that, therefore the option of romance with anyone was off of the table. Besides I haven't had a romantic feeling for you since Feb. when I got smacked down. Yeah I was out of control then, but guess what?

I have 2 counselors and enough medication to tranq out a horse on my side. You were too blind to see that I was calming down, too busy to see that I was pulling out of my legitimate depression and you hit me with I don't respect boundaries, out of the blue, without seeing or caring that I was sick in the mind as recent as a month and a half ago and therefore not making great decisions. I was (am) an emotional train wreck, but you couldn't see that I am/was getting better.

Now I have to deal with having anxiety attacks every time I'm on campus because I might see you, worse if I actually do see you. I also want to thank you for building my confidence only to destroy it. I have no clue why the fuck I'm even in college. I'm too fucked up in the skull to make anything of myself, so why did you bother ever telling me I could do anything I set my mind to? Building me up just to tear me down, or did you actually mean some of the shit at some point in time only to take it away. You better believe every day I wish I never let you close. I also wish that I'd died instead of Mom. If your life is better without me in it, then so should the world.

16 June 2011

So, I was feeling good...

Then I got triggered. As you know I'm having difficulties dealing with the bullshit loss of a friend. I walk into the living room and low and behold, guess who's on TV... the friend. I was going to call and tell him it was a good interview but I think he blocked my number since I get "The AT&T customer you're trying to reach is not available" instead of 2 rings and voicemail.

Of course just hearing his voice and seeing him made me start thinking of our last words to each other, how there's not been any closure, though I'd like to pick up the friendship where we left off, and now I'm crying like a little bitch because of it all.

It hurts to think that I'm no longer good enough to be his friend, that I'm just trash that he set on the curb, that he could hurt me by saying the shit he said and not expecting me to react adversely.

Then again the final argument was all my fault and I probably shouldn't have said that I only started counseling because I couldn't handle being rejected by him, which he responded ever so wonderfully "you say that like you had a chance in the first place." If he could only understand it's easier to blame him (someone who's not supposed to walk away) than admit I'm junk and fucked up in the head, maybe he'd understand some of the shit I said and not take it the wrong way or be scared he's giving out mixed signals when he's not and hasn't since February. He would know that if he read anything I've written to him, or even in this blog.

I fucked up when I wrote Isolated Once Again. That was in fucking May though. I was writhing in pain from being emotionally lashed for 2 hours. But when I said goodbye, I didn't mean forever, which is how he seems to have taken it. He shouldn't still be pissed after all this time. Then again I shouldn't give a rats ass what he thinks about me. I shouldn't give a rats ass about what anyone thinks of me. It just seems like I've lost so much time to being friends with him that I'll never get back, but I don't regret either. I'm just upset he's decided to end it instead of dealing with the problem. I guess he was ill prepared to be friends with a bipolar. I just wish he'd talk to me again.

07 June 2011

It's been awhile.

It's hot and I'm cranky. I want to sleep but can't fall asleep because my mind keeps racing. I took my meds like I was supposed to so I'm a bit dizzy too. I've tried for weeks to get Frank to talk to me but he keeps dodging my calls. I guess that means he hates me now. It eats me up inside that someone I thought was a solid friend walked away knowing I was just lashing out in pain. Maybe he didn't know. Maybe he should know that our last conversation left me devastated and tear filled with snot running from my nose. I even puked a couple of times, I was that upset. I should say it doesn't matter, that it doesn't hurt, that I'm not bothered in the least by Frank's abandoning me, but that would be a lie. I should be OK with having no friends at my immediate call should I need one, I've lived my life alone - I should be used to it.

Interpersonal relationships have never been my strong suit. All of my friends go as quick as they come. I'm surprised Dave's still around. That's probably because he doesn't have to deal with me 24-7 or when shit's really piled up on me. Dave has the liberty and leisure of only having to be there when it's convenient for him. Even then it's hell spending time with him when I'm depressed. I think that's because he doesn't understand what it's like to be in my shoes, and he never will understand. Maybe he wants to fix it. He can't. Nobody can. I can't just snap out of it either. If I could snap out of it, don't you think I would have by now? The medicine is helping a little bit, but I'm still depressed, especially when I think of how few people I have in my life... and how much I want Frank back in it. I guess he doesn't have the time or patience for me anymore, which is a shame and makes me feel stupid for allowing him to get close enough for me to open up to him. Stupid enough to open up to anybody. All it ever leads to is pain and disappointment.

You'd think the two counselors and medicine would be working by now and I'd be over Frank abandoning me. Guess not. I guess he's never going to speak to me again... which sucks. Maybe him telling me he liked conversing with me was a lie. I never can tell when someone's just trying to be nice to me, and when they actually mean it. I've been burned that many times.

28 May 2011

So it's Saturday and I'm home as usual.

I believe the meds are finally starting to kick in, I don't feel as depressed as I did. I'm still highly anxious with a bit of paranoia in the mix.

Saw both counselors this week. Both wanted to delve into the relationship (what?) between Dad and I. It's obvious to anyone who knows me that it is a strained relationship. It depends on his mood the father I'm going to deal with on any given day. Some days I get fussed at about finances, other days he claims I'm special and talented. When he's on his high horse is the worst, he presses every button to piss me off like it's a game. He and my brothers have done this all of my life.

He also seems to like making me feel like shit, like when he told the hospital bill person that I'm unemployed and there's no chance of me getting a job anytime soon. Granted I cannot work and go to school at the same time (I congratulate those who can, I'd end up in the asylum), it doesn't help my confidence level at all to hear that bullshit. If he doesn't like making me feel like shit, then he's failing at preventing such feelings as a reaction to his words.

My brothers think I should just shut the fuck up and let him run over me verbally and psychologically. I think my brothers should take a flying leap at a rolling donut.

I have one brother who is clueless about anything to do with emotions or psychological disturbances, and another one who pisses me off to the point of blackouts at just the mention of his name. He's the one that tells me (and probably Dad) that I'm a "lying, manipulative, fat mooch that runs around the house like a ranting, raving lunatic." I'd love for that asshole to have to live with being severely bipolar like me. I'm still pissed at what he did to Mom for the last few years of her life. Yet people still wonder why I hate him enough to not be able to be in the same house, let alone the same room as him. And to top that off, it seems Dad still won't defend me against my brothers. Then again why should anything change after 30 fucking years.

Do I wonder if Dad loves me? Yes. Do I think he does? Depends on the day, usually the answer is no. I feel like he sees me as a big disappointment and failure at life because I can't get and hold down a job and may be just spinning my wheels with this degree seeking venture of mine. Apparently history majors are "do you want fries with that" degrees. Totally impractical.

I should work on revising my memoirs/self help book and actually try to get it published. I think there's a market for sob stories of overcoming abuse. I just don't feel like I can be a good model for getting past the shit since I'm the one seeing two counselors, on 3 medications and in an overwhelming depression that just won't go away completely. Maybe I can sell the movie rights to Lifetime and make some money for a change. I'd pay my student loans off and see if I have enough left to pay Dad's house off since I'm such a mooch. Then I could get to work on my historical fiction novels... and pray those sell.

Yeah, delusions of grandeur coupled with the feeling of impending failure. And this blog has totally gone down the journal route.

22 May 2011

Down

I've remained down lately. I've been really anxious and irritated. The bad dreams are back. I feel like I'm in a dazed rut that I'll never get out of... depression, it's a killer. It grabs hold of your throat and doesn't let go. It reminds you of all of your failures. It tells you things like you're worthless. It makes you feel worthless. It makes you feel psychotic. It makes you wonder if you shouldn't be locked away in the lunatic ward for years and years. Then we have Cognitive Behavior Therapy. It does work for a mind like mine, it just takes more work than other people. It's difficult to differentiate between rational and irrational thinking right now. I guess that's what the take home sheets I got are to help with, figuring out rational from irrational. Lots of my thoughts are irrational at the moment. I still can't see how I'm not a failure.

In good news Dave and I are going great and summer session starts May 31.

16 May 2011

Roller Coaster Day

Today's been a roller coaster of emotions. Dave and I got back together yesterday which is good. I got more of my tattoo finished today, also good. I confronted how I feel about myself... bad. I told the counselor I feel like I'm a failure, worthless, a lunatic and something else. He tried real hard to get me to see it's faulty thinking, and I tried real hard to believe it. This Cognitive Behavior Therapy is going to take far more work than anticipated. I thought I could just relearn what I had forgotten from the last round of it, but no... my brain is going to be stubborn.

I'd been laying in bed trying to go to sleep since my medicine knocks me out and naturally my mind wandered to things not nice. I got to thinking about Frank and how shit went down with us and how much it hurts, I noticed the thinking and tried to sidetrack myself with thoughts of Dave. But the thing is, Dave hasn't caused me pain lately, Frank has, so naturally thoughts of the events leading up to the dissolution of our friendship puts knots in my stomach and tears in my eyes. Happy thoughts don't seem to dent the emotional reaction I get from these specific negative thoughts. His words are daggers that are still stuck in my back and twist occasionally. Naturally thoughts went from Frank to - What if Dave and I fail again, how much is that going to hurt both of us? Can I take that pain? Can he take that pain? Does he understand why I left him in the first place and is he willing to fix the problem, or at least make an effort to?

Then the thoughts moved to my mother dying, seeing her wilting body fade away from life, watching her become a skeleton with skin, the hell I played trying to take care of her the last 6 weeks of her life. I wonder if she's in some peaceful beyond and can see everything inside of my head, the torture I go through on a daily basis. I wonder if she tries to communicate with or comfort me from the beyond. I wonder if she realized what she was leaving me to when she left. I pray that her spirit can give me the strength to actually publish my memoir which removes every skeleton this family has from every closet. This makes me wonder if she knew what she was bringing me into when she bore me... why I had and have to suffer everything.

So here I sit, saddened once more, displaying my open wounds for you to salt.

12 May 2011

Silence and Isolation

This silence kills me. Having the TV on makes the isolation a bit more tolerable. I cringe every time Dad leaves for work... it means I'm alone. No friends are going to call me. I don't want to bother them so I'm not going to call them. They're too busy to deal with me anyway. Just imagine a life where your only contact with other humans is the human that you live with. Sometimes it's nice, most of the time it drives me up the wall because all I do is think. Thinking is not a good thing for me. It drives me deeper into depression mode.

Thinking has made it more difficult to sleep at night. I think of how I've hurt Dave, how I shouldn't have written the blog about the best friend and the one sided friendship (but it was cathartic), now he's dodging my calls. I'm sure he hates me now. I can't stop thinking of our last argument... where he told me the friendship was one sided and how much that devastated me. I think of how the friendship shouldn't have ended like that, how I should have held my tongue and not lashed out in pain, but cry out in pain I did indeed.

The quiet gives me time to realize Mom's not here. She'll never be here no matter how much I wish it. I am left with nobody to talk to, nobody to spend time with, nobody to enjoy life with... and when I do make a friend I fuck it up somehow, usually by getting too close to them which opens me up to getting hurt. It's a vicious cycle.

When I'm alone I find myself crying or starting to cry at stupid shit. I'm crying right now actually, knowing nobody is here with me, feeling like nobody cares, feeling like shit because of how shit went with me and the best friend.

I feel like shit right now. I need to stop thinking but I can't. I can't stop feeling either. Sometimes I wish my heart would just stop beating so I wouldn't have to live with this fucking disease anymore. This disease that consumes my life, my being, burning so out of control I don't know that it can ever be reigned back in to normalcy.

I know I'll never be normal. I'm jealous of the "normals," their brain works right and I got stuck with a diseased piece of shit that causes me to do crazy things and say crazy shit and react in crazy ways, it just causes me to be crazy. Just ask any of my ex boyfriends or ex friends they'll agree that I'm fucked up in the head and should be in an asylum rather than walking the streets. Maybe I should be locked up. I tried that once. It made things worse for me, being isolated in a room full of people. It cost $5000.00 too.

I just want shit to be right with me for once. When do I get my break?

10 May 2011

Finally Done

Finals are done being flunked, term papers have been decimated, a friendship fucked up (I guess it's his loss) and the high probability I won't get Dave back. It's been a great week. I think the Wellbutrin is helping the depression at the new dosage, but I still seem stuck in the rut. I guess the rut is too much for certain friends since the real isolation begins now and will last until summer classes start... which is not soon enough. I'm certain I've flunked or gotten D's in all of my classes but one this semester which does nothing but make me feel worthless and like a complete failure. All in all I'm glad this shitty semester is over.

07 May 2011

Mother's Day

No mother is perfect. Mine sure as hell wasn't. Those close to me know she was an abusive bitch until I was about 20 or 21. What made me look up to her was she changed. She saw what she was doing was wrong and that I was a decent human being and started treating me like she actually wanted me as a part of her life... something I had yearned for all of my life.

This is the first Mother's Day without her in my life. She said she was proud of me and she thought I could achieve my dreams. She told me she wished she were as brave as I am. She finally accepted me for who Ii am. She learned as much about bipolar disorder as she could just so she could be closer to me. She'd sit on the couch and listen to me babble on about history class. We'd make chocolate chip cookie dough and devour it before we could make cookies. We watched CSI, Criminal Minds, NCIS and The Mentalist together every week. Every year for my birthday she'd bake me a red velvet cake. When she was actively dying I put on a Lord of the Rings and Harry Potter marathon for her, even though I didn't know if she would know it was on or not. She died at the opening of the end credits of Fellowship of the Ring at 5:17 a.m. September 27, 2010. I feel robbed. When she came home from the hospital on hospice she was to have months to live, she didn't even make it a month.

While our relationship was tumultuous for the first 2/3 of my life the last third made me realize she actually loved me. I'm sad I only got 9 good years with her, but happy she's not suffering from the cancer anymore.

Happy Mother's Day 2011.

05 May 2011

Isolated Once Again

So the guy I elevated to most trusted friend because he was actually there for me when I needed it has found himself in a relationship. He claims he just won't be as available. I claim it'll be like every other friend I've had that's gotten into a relationship or married - I will be abandoned. It's actually already happened with him, he just doesn't realize it, or maybe he does and he's purposely ducking my calls. Not that it would surprise me since I did not take the news of the sudden relationship well at all.

Probably because a part of me still pined for him. He had the balls to tell me he had hoped that had gone away by now. Well no, it didn't. It lessened, I started waking up and seeing things that drive me up the wall, I started seeing him as a fallible human, and one that probably wasn't as compatible for me as I had thought a long time ago.

Yes Sire, as you hinted at yesterday, my emotions and my brain are all fucked up. I doubt it's fixable. I doubt I'll ever be normal like you. I doubt I'll have someone fall madly in love with me, ever... so excuse the fuck out of me for being jealous that you have a life and I never will, no matter how hard I try. If I knew why my friends keep their distance from me I'd let you know, but now you've joined their ranks, ignoring me, being too busy for me, unable to deal with my emotional side, whatever the fucking problem is, I'm sure it's all my fault.

As you disappear from my life I'm left to my usual isolated, friends that won't do anything with me, tortured existence. Thanks for the ride and thanks for telling me I was never the type of friend you'd have dinner with and it was a one sided friendship. That made me feel fucking excellent. And since you're dodging my calls to spend time with the new girlfriend, I only called to apologize for reacting so badly, but now I'm pissed and hurt again so fuck that. You don't see it, but I do... your back, walking away from me.

02 May 2011

Mother's Day is going to suck this year.

So we got Osama. Congrats to the servicemen involved.

Mother's Day is coming up, it sucks. I'm sick of the commercials reminding me that I don't have one anymore, that I can't have her back, that she's gone forever. I don't have a shoulder to cry on anymore, anyone to ask if I'm OK because I am just pacing around the house, weighed down by my thoughts and depressed feelings, nobody that loves me. Nobody to nurse my broken heart or bandage bruised emotions. Nobody to laugh with, cry with... no, I have no mother. I'm stuck pacing this house or laying in bed yearning for one more good day, a hug, a "he's the one not good enough for you, not the other way around." We'd make chocolate chip cookie dough and eat more dough than not.

I'd ask her why I pine for men who don't want me, why they don't think I'm good enough for them, why I get jealous that they have lives and I am stuck here unable to go anywhere, not even fishing, because I need the gas. I'd ask what's so repulsive about me? Why could she marry her high school sweetheart and I'm the crazy cat lady at 30? Why do these tears fall for him, yet I have to swallow my emotions around him because I don't want him out of my life? I'd ask why I can't have that one man in the world that could tolerate my ups and downs, love me for me, and love me in the way I want to be loved. With tears streaming down my reddened cheeks I'd ask her why I'm so unlovable, why I fail at everything I do, and why do I have to feel these feelings.

30 April 2011

Update

Internet was shot for a bit. Not much change, I'm still depressed, though I think it's getting a little better. I actually laughed at a tv show tonight. Been awhile since that's happened. Still trying for disability, that's adding stress to the situation. Still going to get D's or F's in all but one of my classes. I just have to deal with it. I should pass the one class that was the most important one. Been having issues with sleep. Either I'm asleep by 8:30 and wake up at 11 pm or I'm just awake like I am tonight. One thing's for certain, I've been having the feeling of "why do I have to be alive" lately. It's probably associated with my stubbornness in believing I'll never get into grad school. It kinda hurts to have dreams destroy themselves right in front of your eyes.

15 April 2011

So I Have Another New Counselor



On following the lawyer's instructions I found yet another counselor. Psychiatric Nurse Practitioner to be precise. She seems cool. The annoying part is having to explain to yet another person how shitty life is and why I can't handle working or working and school. We have the awkward "get to know you" phase to deal with again. I'm just afraid she won't believe me or back me up on the disability. She said something about disability usually makes people lose their self esteem.

I wake up every day feeling like a failure because I'm 30 and can't handle the real world and have to rent half a house from Dad. I can't get a job. I can't handle a job and school. Shit, this semester I can't even handle school. We have 2 weeks left and I'm getting a D in everything except one class, the important one. I am not a D student. I don't know how to handle having this bad of a semester other than just wanting to curl up in a ball and cry until it's over. I have anxiety attacks all of the time, most of the time I see no reason for my being alive, I already have no self worth, I've been searching but not finding any.

On the plus side, Dad's actually reading The Idiot's Guide to Bipolar Disorder. He's actually making an attempt to understand the hell which is my brain. That's a step up from what it was.

I saw Dave. Actually, he came over. We had a nice chat until he went to leave. He knew I'm being a female this week. He made moves anyway. Naturally I'm all like um we're not bf/gf. He's all like "so." So I guess he wants friends with benefits, or he wants me back, I'm not sure. I'm not sure being with him is healthy for me since it made me feel like shit when he left he said "It's ok, I don't handle rejection well anyway."

Overall: Rough day. Stressed max. Still depressed, but not as bad as a few weeks ago. Still not seeing a real reason for me to be alive other than to write... that's a hard business to break into. I guess I'll take my meds, watch How To Train Your Dragon again and see if I can sleep tonight. I have an important concert to attend tomorrow night.

08 April 2011

Demons Within Me

Lately I'm finding it more difficult to fall asleep due to my brain being the asshole that it is. I try to relax and I see Mom's face, or remember how she treated me growing up, or see a skeleton with skin sagging off of it gasping for air.

I remember arguments with Dad. Painful arguments. In the most recent one he told me Mom had no heart and I'm exactly like her in bad ways. I think about how he thinks me getting a bachelor's degree is a waste of money and time because I'll never be able to get a job or hold one. It may be a waste of time and money to him, but it is my source of self worth. With me doing bad this semester I have no self worth. That's just the way it works.

I think about my stupid brothers and the bullshit they've played on Mom, me and/or my niece. I think about how they got to live normal lives and I get stuck with this bipolar bullshit which may very well mean in Dad's words - "I've already resigned myself to the fact that I'm going to be stuck with you until I die." I guess the truth does indeed hurt, because that hurt like a mother fucker.

That's OK, he has read my manuscript and the chapter about him and my brothers. He said it's well written but he doesn't agree with the analysis of some of the things he's done or said in the past, like the big part about the argument in which he told me he accepts that I have a mental problem but doesn't find it necessary to understand it. Apparently he did Google search bipolar and got confused. Now there's a book on his end table called "The Complete Idiot's Guide to Bipolar." I bought it for Frank but we both figured it would do Dad more good.

As I try to drift off to sleep I think of things like my own death, my suicidality (that is a word now), how much of a failure I am at life, and every dream I have ever had has blown up in my face. I get bitched at about the horses, I'm probably never going to find a man strong enough to date me, let alone marry me, I'm getting cold feet about trying to publish "Heart of a Survivor." It just seems fake now. In the book I'm telling people to be strong and keep going and here I am wanting to lay down, cry, die and give up on everything.

Negative thoughts just flow into my brain most of the time, and they're most annoying and painful when I'm trying to fall asleep. If anybody has some self worth and ego to spare, can you send it my way?

07 April 2011

Disability Denied

Not my body
So it seems I'm not psychotic enough or bipolar enough to collect disability. The only thing they looked at was the medical records which show absolutely nothing because all I tell my doctor is if the medicine is working or not. They didn't check with my 3 contacts to see what life really is like for me, they didn't pay attention to anything I wrote in regards to what life is like for me, they just fucking ignored everything. I'm having breakdowns every week or so and I'm supposed to be able to hold a job, let alone get one? I can't get one because of the big gaps in my employment record anyway, let alone the fact that I've been asked to leave or quit every job because of personality conflicts... meaning I don't play well with others, but I'm supposed to be able to work at McDonalds (who won't hire me back and food service isn't my thing anyway, I last a month in food service). I'm at the point now where all I can do is cry and want to cut. Hopefully the lawyer can get me what I deserve.

01 April 2011

So It's April

It's already starting off bad. I was a day late and a dollar short on dropping a class that's been stressing me and I have no chance of passing. I'll be doing good to pass one class this semester, and it is one I have to pass otherwise I'm up shit creek until next spring when it's offered again. I'm fairly certain I'll pass it though. I have a book review due in it Wednesday and I'm such a slow reader and have been bogged down so much I haven't even finished the book. I'm so sick of reading though. Nothing I read is sticking with me. I'm sick of TV too. All day has been commercials about lung cancer and lung cancer trust funds. MSNBC is getting boring with the same stories over and over again with the lung cancer commercials mixed in.

I'm stoned out of my mind on these meds, probably why I can't remember shit. I want to go back to sleep but for some reason all I do is toss and turn. I tried reading again, it got nowhere so I came here to blog for no real reason other than to whine some more. That's all this blog has been lately, a bunch of fucking whining. I guess at least the blog listens to me even though it doesn't give a fuck about me. That's the thing about inanimate objects, they don't have emotions, sympathy or empathy. That said, I think the Wellbutrin is trying to work, but there's just too much stress for it to overcome. Oh how I'd love a few manic days in a row.

30 March 2011

30 mar 2011 - Crumbling

I was dumb enough to check my midterm grades. I literally have a D in everything but one class. I got a letter from the registrar's office saying hurry up and get your degree, you're running out of hours. Now I have to drop to a B.S. in History with a minor in English Lit. I wanted the B.A.  On top of it all, I'll never have the 3.0 I need to get into KU's grad program. I'm so ready to give up. I'm sick of working my ass off and getting nothing accomplished.

I can't get this bipolar shit under control. I can't shake the depression. I'm so far behind in my work I'll never catch up, no matter how hard I try. But there are people out there "pulling for me" and think I can make something of myself.

I ain't gonna be nothin' but a po' ass goth redneck on disability (assuming I get it) rockin' in the corner, cryin' 'cause every dream I've dared to dream I've managed to fuck up. I'm gonna be single forever, because honestly, who the fuck would want my ass. The only way I have out of living with Dad is either he dies (which better not happen) or my writing career takes off... even though I'm a mediocre writer.

My friends keep disappearing, and the ones that have offered themselves up just haven't earned my trust yet. I'm what you call "slow to warm." I feel I have good reasons not to trust people. It doesn't matter, every friendship I've ever had has simmered down to lukewarm, is breaking away, or has already ceased contact. New friendships shall end with the same fate of bleakness. Relationships shall always fail. I shall always be a fuckup.

28 March 2011

Me Grieving and Other Shit

First off, why the fuck do people think they need to tell me how to grieve? Why the fuck can't they just let me do it my own way. I'm doing better now than I was a month ago when I ended up in the loony bin. Besides, it's only been 6 months. If you got over it and dealt with a death in less than six months, then congratufuckinglations, I'm happy you have less emotion than I do. Right now I'd love to be a sociopath unable to feel any emotion or attachment to other humans. I'd also love to be able to speed read, but that's never going to happen either.

Apparently my cousin has moved in with us.

26 March 2011

6 month anniversary eve

It may as well be the actual 6 month anniversary of Mom's death. As of writing this it's less than 12 hours away from the exact time. I've been having shitty dreams about her and taking care of her in her last days. I've been having shitty dreams about other things as well. I guess the dreams are going to assault me for awhile.

Dave didn't bother calling or coming over last night so I am assuming his answer is he wants nothing for a relationship/friendship status. It hurts, but I expected it. He could have at least called though.

I've been trying to catch up on my reading. That's not going so well. I'm probably going to fail this semester because I can't remember shit, especially when it's test time. I've spent far too much time trying to deal with this depression bullshit and locking myself up instead of concentrating on school. Then again, concentration is simply out of the question right now. I think it's half depression/grief and half medicine. But I need the meds to survive. Literally survive.

My mind keeps wandering to thoughts of Mom, memories of the horrible things that have been said to me throughout my life - especially by Dave, recent arguments with relatives, everything I've been through in my life, feeling like I'm losing the man who became my best friend. Thinking that nobody would notice, or care if I just keeled over myself, wondering why the fuck it was Mom and not me. What do I have to offer? I'm fucking 30 and live with my father because I can't get/hold a job and go to school, praying I get disability. I can't seem to ever get it together.

A friend said there are two types of girls: Those you go out with and those you marry. He forgets the third type: people like me. I don't have men beating down my door asking for dates/fucks or marriage. If I did, I wouldn't know what to do aside from being skeptical of his intentions. My bipolar would make life hell for whoever decided to marry me, and probably for those that would date me. So there it is, I'm the 3rd type - the untouchable, the perma-friend who won't get a chance at the love she wants.

24 March 2011

Anxiety

I've been having serious anxiety issues lately. I can't sleep, or at least fall asleep peacefully. I talked to the ex last night. Neither of us knows where we stand. I think I'm going to offer friends with benefits, because he doesn't seem keen on getting back with me.

I'm not sure why I was stupid, depressed, or anxious enough to call him. The conversations didn't go well, but he's supposed to come over tomorrow. I guess we'll argue more then. I think there's just too much hurt on both sides for a relationship to work. It's too hard to be in one with him, just as hard as being alone. Why must I fall for forbidden, unhealthy love? Why must I crave love at all?

I'm so tired of being alone though. Surely FWB would be ok? The counselor, and well, everyone else, thinks I shouldn't date until I get myself healed. I'm not sure I'll ever heal or become a controlled bipolar. Everyone tells me to find the good in myself to help me heal, I wish I could see in me what my friends do.

I wish I could sleep 20 hours a day again, that thoughts and emotions didn't plague me as they do. I wish the love of my life would hurry up and sweep me off of my feet already. I wish the depression would go away and the meds didn't make me tired and sick.

I'm so far behind in classes because of the depression that I pray for C's. There's not enough waking hours to read and write everything I have to do. The meds and my state of mind do not help.

There are days I wish I weren't alive, days I question life, suicidal days, cutting days, but no days where I'm happy to wake up, to be a live, to just be happy or at least neutral.

In other news I got my manuscript back from a trusted professor, he liked it and gave me suggestions on how to make it harder hitting and not confuse the audience. Overall it was a nice ego stroke. Now hopefully I can write my term paper as well, if not better.

22 March 2011

MAR 22 2011

The doctor upped the Wellbutrin to 300 mg once a day. I had trouble sleeping and woke up with a sour stomach. Still wanted to puke 2 hours later. So far no change in depression. Hopefully in a few days it'll work. All I want to do is sleep. I guess that's better than wanting to cut or commit suicide. These meds kill me though, and my ability to stay awake, concentrate and function, but I need them or I'll never get better.

I ended up dropping a class, but I'm still painfully behind due to missed classes caused by depression and being locked up. Counselor wasn't in today, which sucks, I could have used a session with him today. S much shit on my mind, pain in my heart and torture in my soul that basically only he can help with.

I'm still upset circumstances (choice?) are taking my best friend from me. Pissed my niece can't understand or accept the fact that I only go to certain people, which she is not. I won't go to her because she doesn't need my shit on top of hers; the roles are supposed to be her coming to me not vice versa; she may think I opened up to her when Mom was dying, but she's wrong. I just wish she'd understand a) there's nothing to help me with and b) I'm always going to be closed with the exception of my elite 4.

The elite 4 seems to keep disappearing and reappearing. #1 is disappearing due to time and phone constraints. #2 confuses me because we both still love each other, but the few phone calls are awkward. #3 disappeared for a month because of her own shit, a month when I could have used her, but now she's coming back. #4 has been watching from the sidelines and calling at the right times - keen to my need of a friend. We must be kindred spirits.

I'm going to miss #1 when he finally walks away. #2 needs to step up and prove he loves me. #3 I hope shit goes better for you. #4 love you too Momma B.

20 March 2011

Back from England...

Even while away in England the black dog was persistent. If it weren't for the phone calls home I'm not sure I could have made it. The trip made the depression go all the way down to 5 but now it's back up to 8 or so. I guess at least I'm alive, as are the people I went on the trip with.

Dave and I are talking again, he doesn't remember dumping me though. He made the mistake of saying "I don't know why you're so depressed all the time." All I could say is that's the way bipolar plays its game. It's horrible.

I wish it would go away and I could be happy, if not manic again. Even Colchester was bittersweet. Probably because I had to do it alone, like I do everything. If I want to go to the movies, I go alone. If I want to bowl, I bowl alone. If I want to go to dinner, I dine alone. You get the picture.

I've slept I don't know how many hours. I guess I'm still jetlagged. Tears keep finding their way out of their ducts. I got some shitty news last night: I can't talk to my best friend on the phone much anymore. God keeps taking him from me bit by bit. Can't see him, can't talk to him, what kind of fucking friendship is a no-contact friendship?

I'm confused about Dave. And concerned. I would think one would remember dumping their girlfriend, or at least the argument. That chemo must have seriously fucked him up. I know it changed him. Hell the cancer changed him. He's not the same Dave I fell in love with, and still love. He used to make a lot of time for me... at the end I was lucky to get 2 hours every 3 weeks... and that was just for a fuck session, or at least that's how it seems.

He says he still loves me, but he hates my piercings. Piercing is just part of who I am. Tattoo's are definitely who I am. Why can't anyone accept me or love me for me? It's not like I ask much of a boyfriend, just be there for me when I need you, accept me for me, treat me like I'm equal to you and don't fuck around on me.

I guess I'm going to go cry myself back to sleep. At least you know I'm still alive.

08 March 2011

Breakdown Day 5

The dog has let up for a little bit. I slept 15 hours today. Had many bad or uneasy dreams. I wish my meds would work. Wish they'd stop bad dreams. Spent $60 on the Wellbutrin which may as well be a fucking placebo. I'd hate to see what it's like without it though. Something has got to be better than nothing in my case. Maybe the 2 hour convo with #1 friend on the phone helped pull me out of it. Maybe I'm just getting ramped up for England and Colchester with its Roman things and Norman castle. Maybe I'm just a depressive rapid cycling psychopath. We'll see how I feel in the morning. I doubt it's good.

07 March 2011

Breakdown Day 4

In light of recent interpersonal relationship events I'd like to say some things:

I have a select few (4) friends that I will spill my guts to when need-be. I consider these 4 people my counsel. Their domain is my keep. They are my favorites (in a Royal sense). I will not deviate from this unless one of them falls out of favor due to fucking me over. If you are not in this group, sorry. It may or may not be personal, depending on who you are and how my bipolar reacts to you.

Some of you I just don't trust. Some of you have emotions and energies that totally kick in bad shit with me. Some of you made the mistake of thinking the best friend thing was reciprocated. I've said, I only have 4 best friends, 4 friends I go to with most things, only one will I go to with Everything.

I feed off of the "vibes" people put off. If there's one person in the room who's vibes are bad, it'll fuck me up. If I'm at a friend's house the whole time is dictated by the vibes being put out by both parties, but primarily them. I tend to react harshly to bad vibes.

Furthermore:
Don't tell me I need help. I'm reaching out and getting the help I need. I have a counselor I see every week, and seem to be on a bi-weekly basis with my medical doctor, with no medical insurance. It is not a cure all. The devil dog has me at rock bottom right now, and he will again.

It's not as though it is for no reason this time. I'm still grieving the loss of my mother, my only reason for living. Her death is still recent so excuse the fuck out of me for not just pulling up my boot laces and chugging on over to sappy happy land where everything's fucking cuddly puppy dogs, rainbows and goddamned purple butterflies.

I'm also grieving the loss of a long term relationship in which I was NOT being used, contrary to everyone's fucking opinions, and going through the hell that is rebounding and unrequited love. Again, excuse the fuck out of me for not being little Miss Sunshine Vanilla Wafers with Cool Whip and strawberries.

But wait, there's more!
For the last four days I've essentially been in bed suffering fits of crying for no reason other than breakups hurt like hell on top of already being depressed. The demon dog has me down hardcore.

Waking up this morning to an attack because I don't consider someone a best friend did nothing to help the situation. If you were to ask me, I'd say this person needs more mental health help than they will admit to.

It was honestly all I could do to get my ass out of bed, only to be greeted with how I treat my friends like shit and about anything else that can be said to sound like my familial ties that I despise.