Tag Archives: Bipolar

WIDE AWAKE ROTTING

I don’t know why I blacked out. If it was the stress of dealing with my dad, the heat, me not feeling well, all I know is that I woke up on the floor.

When I woke up on the floor of my bedroom it was like I was somewhere else. I didn’t recognize this disgusting place filled with bags and bags of empty water bottles, paper towels, cigarette butts and ashes that had taken over the room. But it was my room. I had let it GET THAT BAD. I kept ignoring it or I didn’t want to see it. The shame of finally seeing what I let happen was too much. I had to leave it a little longer and remember what had triggered me in the first place.

I know I’ve been allowing people, places, and things said, get to me when I shouldn’t. I exist with every nerve ending exposed, my heart on my sleeve, and no protection. I always have, I also replay conversations and events in my mind that I feel were hurtful or that I deserved. (the key words are “I” and “I” am not a good judge because I am so sensitive) It’s probably one of the worst parts about it all, the constant film running in the background of my mind. It’s been the hardest thing for me to control or find coping skills that actually work.

Music, coloring, and research, work depending on the day. With an autoimmune disease, kidney disease, and medical disorders having to do with my blood that can’t be explained, my medications work at different levels in different ways.

One of my doctors believes part of my Conversion Disorder comes from watching my Mom die. Not just the horrible way she died in the hospital but the way she slowly killed herself at home.

She knew everything she had to avoid to stay alive, she knew everything she had to do to stay alive. I knew when she gave up. When she started staying in her room all the time, stockpiling food she wasn’t allowed to eat and not talking to anyone.

At the time I was working 60 hours a week and trying to maintain my alcoholism.

My mom was never thin but started to gain weight rapidly. This made it harder for her to breathe and put stress on her heart. Her bones were brittle and weak from chemo and radiation she had 7 years before. We were so lucky she even survived, most people don’t. I don’t know what it was that made her give up after fighting so hard previously.

When she fractured her back it was the beginning of the end. She would lose control of her bladder and bowels. She cried, moaned and screamed in pain all night long. Nothing we or the doctors did gave her any relief. They decided to do surgery even though she wasn’t healthy enough for it.

She made it through the surgery but the weight gain and immobility made it so hard for her to breathe she felt like she was suffocating. It was her biggest fear.

I now see some of the same behavior in my Dad and it scares me. It’s the opposite with him, he’s lost a lot of weight and does too much. He has old fractures in his back that he chose to ignore over the years. This time his sciatic nerve is being compressed so he can’t ignore it. He’s fallen down numerous times and doesn’t tell me unless I see blood and bruises. Yesterday he was stuck on the pavement of our driveway for over an hour bleeding from a large wound on his arm. He fell out of his truck coming back from dialysis.

He refuses to go to the hospital.

I called my twin sister to let her know what was going on and I might be taking him to the ER. She never called or texted back. Once again I’m left to deal with watching a parent die. Only this time I don’t think I’ll handle it at all.

My Dad and I are close. I told my Mom everything but my Dad and I have a lot in common. When I quit drinking for the last time he watched movies I know he had no interest in, same with TV shows, just to keep me company. He’s never given up on me. It’s only been these last 2 years that we’ve really argued and that’s due to both of our illnesses.

I want to live my own life.

I’m just not sure if I deserve to.

I destroy everything around me or they leave.

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A VISIT TO MY PSYCHIATRIST

Today is the first time I’ve left my house in 3 weeks. I had to go see my psychiatrist and get ready for the big snow storm coming tomorrow. I hate snow and I hate the cold. I hate a lot of things lately.

As usual I was called into his office late. His first question was “How is your Crohn’s?”. First I don’t have Crohn’s Disease I have Celiac Disease so that was strike was one. I hate correcting people. I decided this visit I was going to write everything down that has been going on. I also wrote down observations from my Dad and my twin sister just in case. I was going to correct him when he said the wrong diagnosis or medication too.

I told him that I’ve been having trouble concentrating, leaving the house, issues with controlling anger and irritability, and going over past events. My family thinks I have gotten worse in the last year. I also told him that spoke to a few of the companies making my medications and they said that they needed to be adjusted because of my kidney failure. The Klonopin manufacturer said it’s most likely only staying in my system about 2-3 hours. The maximum dose for people like me is 4mg and I’m on 2mg. I only take it at night. He disagreed and said I had probably built up a tolerance to it and it’s only a band aid and not meant to be used as a cure.

I told him I refuse to live like I used to, dry heaving all day with a lump in my throat for no reason. That’s one of the biggest reasons I drank.

He said we could try an antidepressant. I think when I started laughing he got nervous. I have a list of all the antidepressants I’ve been on. It’s 2 pages long. I asked him if there were any new ones not related to the ones I’ve already tried.

His answer? “Trintellix” I said “You mean the one that’s just like Brintellix?”. He said “Yes”. I said “The one I was on when I almost got arrested for assaulting a police officer?”. He said “Oh! You’ve tried that one?”. Yes moron I have. If you looked down at your screen it would probably be listed there. Or maybe not because he gave me a bag filled with samples that the sales rep had just dropped off and must have thought I would be a good guinea pig.

He then suggested another medication for PTSD but he didn’t say the name of it. He asked if maybe I had been eating Gluten and that was why there was change. I told him I eat 1 big bowl of Rice Chex a day and that’s pretty much it.

Then he asks me “How are you managing your Eating Disorder then?”. WTF? I said “WHAT Eating Disorder?” “I’ve never been diagnosed with an eating disorder. My appetite is poor because I have Chronic Kidney Disease”. His response was “You do?”.

He did mention the hospital where he works is doing Ketamine trials because he thinks it’s the same as mushrooms or organic psychedelics. I couldn’t help it at this point. I said “There a little late. There are already a lot of studies showing the negative effects of Ketamine specifically with people who have PTSD or Conversion Disorder.” He didn’t respond to that one.

He repeatedly mentioned Therapy and I repeatedly mentioned that I already tried every kind of Therapy there is including Shock Therapy.

My family doesn’t want to talk to me, I cry all the time, and I don’t want to leave the house.

The only person that has offered any kind of help or support is my Auntie Lee. She called me yesterday to tell me she loves me and that I should come to Florida and be with her. If I had the money I would in a second. She’s my Mom’s sister and I love her. She’s positive 99% of the time. We’re like best friends when we get together.

I think I’ll start saving my money. It’s time to make a change. the-mind-of-freud


STUPID QUESTIONS EX: WHAT’S THE NUT HOUSE REALLY LIKE?

I don’t know why I’m still shocked by the things people say or the questions they ask when they find out something from my past. I try to keep a low profile in the town I live in but I’ve been arrested a few times and I did go out every night for many years.

I also live in the smallest state so it isn’t hard for gossip to spread to people you don’t even know.

What I have a problem with are the idiotic questions from people who should know better. These are not teenagers, these are adults.

Here are some questions I’ve been asked.

“Do you get really good drugs?”

“Can I buy some from you?”

“Is that like One Flew Over The Cuckoo’s Nest?”

“You must have felt like Frankenstein, did you?” (ECT)

“Did you meet any real crazy people where you were?”

“You’re not that bad are you? Like dangerous?”

“Aren’t there bugs and people writing on the walls with their own feces? That must have been awful”

“You’re okay now though, right?”

“Are you cured?”

“Oh, so you’re like the guy in One Flew Over The Cuckoo’s Nest?” (If I hear it one more time I’ll scream)

“So what kind of drugs are you on? Anything good?” (this is asked often)

I’m not sure why people have this specific image of the mentally ill but they do. It hasn’t gotten better if anything it may have gotten a little worse with violent acts being blamed immediately on the mentally ill in the media. I notice that people are more weary around me at times. I don’t feel comfortable with this. I don’t to frighten people.

I admit that I also feel anger at the entire situation. The lack of empathy and basic humanity is appalling to me. MV5BMTc5ODUyMDI5Ml5BMl5BanBnXkFtZTcwNzM5OTQyNw@@._V1_SY1000_CR0,0,1480,1000_AL_MV5BNDc2NjMwNTUwOF5BMl5BanBnXkFtZTcwOTUzNTIwNA@@._V1_SY1000_CR0,0,1499,1000_AL_MV5BMTA3MTE1ODE0NDReQTJeQWpwZ15BbWU3MDQ2OTQ5NzM@._V1_SY1000_CR0,0,1494,1000_AL_


RANTS & RAGE AGAIN

When you’re a person that has always been afraid conflict you have a tendency to push down any anger of your own. You don’t defend yourself often and stay quiet. Eventually this catches up to you.

I used to have a problem once in awhile, usually while drinking, but it tapered off as I got older. Except I find in the last year I’m having more periods of rage. Times where I want to throw something, punch a wall, and scream until I lose my voice. I can’t always tell the difference between rage and pain.

My sister has refused to have contact with me since Saturday which is unusual for us. We usually don’t go more than 3 days without at least a text because I stalk her with texts. This time I’m not. I’m not begging for my twin sister to like me.

My Dad’s hearing has either gotten extremely worse or he’s pretending it is because when I talk to him he acts like he can’t hear me until I throw something at him.

I hate repeating myself because my voice isn’t strong it never has been. I’ve had a sore throat for months now and I have trouble remembering words most times. If I start to get stressed then I start to stutter which makes it all worse. So I don’t bother anymore. I sit by myself everyday, I only talk out loud to the dogs sometimes.

The bad thing about this is when I have to go out in public and talk to someone. I feel like I’ve lost the ability for conversation. My throat feels rusty. I worry I’m making a fool of myself. Then I stay home more and more.

I just tried talking to my Dad about something on the news. One minute in I notice he isn’t looking at me and his eyes are blank. It’s like I’m not there, I’m invisible, what I was told by other people in that one moment is all true. I don’t matter, no one will ever love me, I’m a waste of space, ugly, nothing, I don’t deserve to live. The hamster wheel starts with all of these thoughts and the voices that went with them.

You can heal physically, for the most part I did. Emotionally I have never healed from my past. When I think of when I was locked in a bathroom not allowed out until I cut my wrist while they stood on the other side of the door taunting me I want to vomit. I allowed that and maybe I deserved it. If my own family can’t be around me than maybe I am that bad.

I feel like I want my Mom and I want to go home but I’m already home. So I’ll wait it out because I know it’s temporary or at least I hope it is.Klimt-Crying-Woman

 


WHO ARE YOU SUPPOSED TO BE?

People say I’m the life of the party

Cause I tell a joke or two

Although I might be laughing loud and hearty

Deep inside I’m blue

So take a good look at my face

You’ll see my smile looks out of place

If you look closer it’s easy to trace

The tracks of my tears

Outside, I’m masquerading

Inside, my hope is fading

If you look closer it’s easy to trace

The tracks of my tears

Smokey Robinson

When you have a twin who does not have a mental illness you get to watch that person have a “normal” life. When your twin was also thin and popular it makes it worse. From the beginning I just wanted her to love me more than anyone else. I thought we were special because we were twins. I thought we were supposed to have a strong bond that would last forever. It turns out I was the only one who felt this way.

W became my sister and was there for me when no one else was. The times I had no choice and had to call my sister I was met with disgust and judgement. I hadn’t been diagnosed yet but I don’t think it was a secret to anyone that something was wrong. It wasn’t a secret to me, I just didn’t want to admit I was like some of my family members. I didn’t want to live in an assisted living community with other mentally ill people and a case manager who could come over any time they wanted to. I didn’t want someone else deciding what I did with my money, where I went, what I put in my body or didn’t put in my body. I had seen it all when I was younger and it was horrendous. My Aunt and Uncle had miserable lives when the State was in control. My Uncle chose to be homeless instead of dealing with them. I don’t blame him.

My twin sister refuses to understand how sick I am. She refuses to see how sick our Dad is. She refuses to see that I’m at a breaking point watching him waste away, being the one he takes his anger out on, and being alone. Yesterday he fell and hit his head. When he came inside it was bleeding a little but he was unsteady on his feet. I made him sit down. He then called the dog by the bird’s name four times even though I told him it was the dog not the bird. He looked at me like I wasn’t there.

I think he’s taking too much Klonopin because he doesn’t know he’s already taken it. I see him popping them like they’re Tic Tacs and it scares me. He’s on a low dose .50 mg but still he doesn’t have functioning kidneys. I tell my sister and she says “Hmm”. Pretty much her response to everything I say.

She only called today to tell me about her 6th vacation. They rented a house in Vermont and they took the kids to see Green Day so the oldest could see his Godfather and the youngest could meet the rest of the band.tear How fun for you and your family. Personally I don’t think it’s a great idea to bring the kids backstage but hey what do I know?

I look and I see a beautiful 44 year old woman with 2 of the most beautiful well behaved loving children I’ve ever been around. A woman with a nice house and a fenced in backyard. A woman with a plethora of friends to talk to or get coffee with. Who between her and her husband have so many contacts they can take 6 vacations in 3 months and not worry about anything else. A woman who graduated college but told me I got all the attention because I f*cked up all the time so no one noticed her achievements.

I remember my mother introducing us at a large family function. She said “This is my daughter D she’s in college and this is my other daughter.” No name and no description. At least she didn’t do what the rest of family the did D is the skinny one and Da is the fat one that’s how you tell them apart.” YOU F*CKING IDIOTS WE ARE FRATERNAL TWINS I HAD BLOND HAIR SHE HAD AUBURN HAIR WE LOOKED NOTHING ALIKE IN THE FACE MAYBE IF YOU WEREN’T SO INBRED YOU’D HAVE HALF A BRAIN TO TELL US APART.

My apologies again there was only that one incidence of inbreeding that I know of and she turned out to be a beautiful and smart woman. Again, that I know of because my Grandmother’s side of the family is difficult to trace and the woman herself was sketchy as hell.

I have so much baggage and family secrets/history it’s like Peaky Blinders/Justified/The Decline of Western Civilization all rolled into one.

I’m trying to say it’s heartbreaking and lonely to know the person who is supposed to be there for you and love you isn’t there. It hurts all the time to be so aware of how my twin feels about me. I miss the one person I could count on and talk to, I could cry for hours and she would just hold me and tell me it would be ok. No one does that anymore. I’m not allowed to cry or I get yelled at. No one just hugs me and says everything will be ok or says they love me no matter what I do or say. I need that now because I’m like Jekyll & Hyde lately and there is no warning. I don’t always remember what I’ve said or done or why you’re mad at me.

P.S.~CVS Changed the Generic Brand of Topamax I take and it’s been like starting over as far as side effects go. I feel pretty horrible.

 


A DIFFERENT TAKE ON BEAUTY (From Ugly Duckling To Confused Swan)

I was born in 1973, born five minutes after me was my fraternal twin sister. There is a picture of us only a few weeks old where it appears she is trying to punch me in the face. That should’ve been a good indicator of things to come.

Although we were not identical, Aunts, Uncles, and Cousins still were confused about who was who. When we were born we weighed a little under 5 pounds each and stayed in the hospital until we gained enough weight to leave. Except one of us never stopped gaining. Starting at an early age that’s how relatives would tell us apart. They didn’t care if I heard them or not. “D is the fat one and Deb is the skinny one” is what I constantly had to listen to. As I became older I would scream in my head “Are you f*cking stupid? One of us is blond and the other is a red head! If you don’t know the difference after 15 years than don’t bother!”. There were honestly times I wanted to physically hurt one of them. I would be playing with cousins and one would get hurt. I would automatically get blamed because I was “big” and must have “squished” one of them.

I tried to be invisible. It was easier that way. If I drew attention to myself that would be asking for punishment, humiliation, or ridicule. I wore baggy clothes and hid my face behind my hair for many years.

I always had a love for make up, hair products, perfume, clothes, but I was limited in what I could do. There was little clothing available at that time for 16 year old girls who were a size 18. Most clothing was marketed for much older women or what little I thought was nice was extremely expensive.

By the time I was a Senior in High School my Bipolar Episodes (Not Diagnosed Yet) were in full swing. I would have feelings of wanting to belong so badly I thought the world would end. I wanted a guy to actually see me for once. I wanted to be wanted. Smoke and Mirrors became my best friends.

Not many are born knowing how to apply make up correctly or blow dry hair just right. I had to learn in order to wear my “mask” of confidence that was boosted with alcohol. When I was all made up and had a new outfit on I actually felt a little good about myself. Add the alcohol in and I was hot. That can only last so long. 20 years to be exact.

When I was diagnosed as Bipolar and stopped drinking I also stopped socializing. I did start to lose some weight. The Doctor told me I would at first because of the medication and because I have Celiac Disease. A year went by and I was down almost 130 pounds. My family was worried. Well most of them. I now weighed less than my twin sister and she wasn’t taking it well.

I wasn’t doing well either. I had this new body in the mirror, a completely different face, I had changed my hair color as well. I wasn’t sure how to dress for this body. My sister refused to go clothes shopping with me. I would sit in a dressing room quietly crying because I was confused about whether I was wearing a shirt or a dress. Did I have a camel toe or was it suppose to fit that way? Some of the clothing should’ve come with directions. I finally had to ask women in the dressing rooms to help me. I was embarrassed. I was angry that after all the years of bullying and pain my sister would hold this against me.

When I received a compliment I didn’t know what to do with it. When someone found out I had lost a lot of weight I felt like I had to tell them it wasn’t through diet and exercise because it would be wrong to let them think that.

When I started to notice dents in my temples and indentations in my cheeks I became concerned. My Hematologist told me I had “Muscle Wasting Disease” which happens with Autoimmune Disorders. What we didn’t know was that my Kidneys had been Failing. I wouldn’t find out until it was almost too late.

Bipolar Disorder, Alcoholism, Obesity, and even being too thin all carry Stigma. The things I’ve hadthonf73axv said and done to me because of one or the other I still can’t forget. I used “Beauty Tools” to try to hide the real me even when I lost weight. I never leave the house without a mask. But sometimes they serve a purpose.

While in Cosmetology School and working in Salons I would do hair for women who couldn’t afford it. Women who hadn’t had their hair done in years or ever. I can’t tell you how many had tears rolling down their faces when I was finished. As they stood up their posture would be different than when they first came in. Their eyes brighter and their smiles confident. I know it’s only hair but sometimes it’s the human interaction and having a chance to relax and feel good about yourself that can make a difference. It’s those times I enjoyed the most.

 


HOW DO YOU GET RID OF FEAR?

Fear- it’s a word that describes most of my life. It’s a feeling I still live with everyday. The worse part is not even knowing what the hell you’re afraid of, unless it’s everything.

I live with a constant lump in my throat and a feeling in the pit of my stomach that tells me “RUN! DANGER! DANGER! SOMETHING HORRIBLE IS COMING!”. When you have had this for 30 years it is exhausting. You will do anything to get rid of it.

There are only a few things that stop this for me. Alcohol is one of them. Unfortunately the next day I am flooded with blocked Serotonin and feel 10 times worse.

While you are drinking alcohol, a wall is put up that blocks off the Serotonin going to your brain. Serotonin is what makes you feel “happy” or “good”. When the alcohol leaves your system, you are flooded with the blocked Serotonin leaving you feeling agitated, restless, sweating, with a headache, possible diarrhea, nausea, and shivering.

The other two things that help with my feelings of fear over everything are Klonopin or just sleeping. Neither of those are much of a solution either.

I’m not sure what I hate most. The actual fear and anxiety or not remembering the cause of it.

I don’t think most people can understand what a mindf*ck  it is when several doctors tell you there’s something your own brain doesn’t want you to remember. (unlike Dr. Drew these gentlemen were experts in the field and one spoke before the Senate on behalf of people with Conversion Disorder). Some patients, once they are told, stop having symptoms. But like everything else there are varying factors. These people didn’t have dual diagnoses, addiction, or were diagnosed in an early stage.

When you have another mental health problem or two and are not diagnosed until later, your chances of the symptoms getting better are slim. That’s me. It isn’t that I have no hope or I want to wallow in misery. I just have no tolerance for sugar coating anything that shouldn’t be.

Bipolar Disorder, Addiction, and Conversion Disorder are horrific for some of us. It will not get better no matter what we do. There is no yoga, meditation, visualization techniques, acupuncture, aromatherapy, cupping, leeches, blood letting, crystals, spells, chanting, prayer, candles, rebirthing, that will do anything to improve my situation.

I’ve been told by more than 2 doctors that my only choice now is more ECT (shock therapy). I don’t know if I can handle it again. The horror in my sister’s eyes when she first saw me was a lot to take in. When she told me what I was saying and how frightened she was that she had “lost” me forever I didn’t understand at first. She thought I would be stuck as a little kid forever. I was talking like the both of us were 5 years old. I couldn’t differentiate what year it was or how old we were at first. It killed her when I kept asking when “Mommy was coming”. I don’t know how she did it. How she kept it together. I’m glad she told my dad to stay away for the day. I don’t think he could’ve handled it all.

I’ve seen my father sink to his knees and howl in pain once in his life. I never want to see it again.

That’s another problem. I can’t absorb meds or vitamins but I can absorb other peoples pain. I’m a sponge. It sinks into me and finds a home. I almost welcome it.e43ed585e1f6acd831a52d97161242f196bd467dc0ba78cfa65724df5175bfe0


I’M SORRY, SO SORRY. SORRY I WAS SUCH A FOOL.

My mom loved music. She loved to dance. She was great at both.

She also loved to cook. She may not have actually loved it but she was good at it.

My dad loved her spaghetti and meatballs, lasagna, Thanksgiving meals, Chowder, clamcakes, fried chicken, pretty much everything.

I loved hearing her sing Patsy Cline, Brenda Lee, music from the 50’s and early 60’s. To me she sounded so beautiful. I liked to watch her knit. The clack, clack of the needles was soothing and watching her long fingers work made me sleepy.

For a few years she was addicted to Donkey Kong and Super Mario. I would laugh when I could hear the video game music at 2:00 a.m.

I didn’t know back then it was a symptom of illness just like when she locked herself in her room for weeks and didn’t talk to anyone. I was too young to know.

I loved her so much and I didn’t help her, I didn’t know. I was so self-involved dealing with my own crap I couldn’t see how much pain she was in.

I listened to her scream every night. I changed her sheets when she couldn’t make it to the bathroom. And I was angry because I was working over 50 to 60 hours a week. Time I could’ve been spending with my mom while she was alive. Instead I took care of her during her worse moments. My siblings were no where to be found until she actually passed.

I loved her so much the pain is enormous. Eight years later. DSC00936


BLOCKED, BANNED, DISMISSED, AND ILLNESS.

There’s nothing I find more cowardly and vile than blocking someone from Social Media. I’ve seen certain semi famous people do it for no reason other than the person was unattractive. Why couldn’t you just leave them on and just not interact with them? The guy wasn’t saying anything malicious or threatening he just wasn’t the same as everyone else.

I don’t think people understand the hurt they cause when they do these things. I’ve been blocked and banned from more bars than I can remember, it was embarrassing when I went to one I had forgotten about in ANOTHER STATE! But the difference is I had deserved to be thrown out and banned. At times my drinking was appalling. I remember letting J throw darts at an apple on my head. Not one of my shining moments. I would get into fights also.

I feel the need to make it clear that when I was violent towards someone else it was when I was drinking and 98% of the time there was jealousy and a guy involved. I usually chose to hit the guy because I had a death wish and I was always bigger than the girl. It doesn’t make it right but it had nothing to do with Mental Illness. Insecurity about my appearance and the inability to think that any man could love me, definitely.

The social media thing just seems so much more hurtful. I’ve been hurt by it. It took months to get past it. I have re learn the lesson every 6 months because I forget. I wish I didn’t but my brain has a way of doing that. I get sucked in to someone’s story that I relate to and think that they would relate to me. I never said I was smart.

Changing the subject I woke up on my stomach this morning. I never really do that. When I went to get off the bed my back seized up. I was stuck for 10 minutes. I think having that much pressure on my stents set something out alignment in my back. I’m crooked today and not able to walk well.

Malnutrition is the reason why I am not absorbing my medications correctly. I’m at 140 pounds now, I’ve gained weight just not the vitamins or minerals your body needs to survive. Because of my Kidney Disease and Celiac Disease I don’t get the nutrition I need.

There’s one problem. I don’t care anymore. I’m past caring about anything. I wanted to work with animals when I was little. When I grew older I became obsessed with the Music and Movie industry. How did I wind up spending most of my days alone coloring and crying?


PSYCHIATRIST TOMORROW & ANGER

I feel somewhat angry today. It could be the fact that I have to see my Psychiatrist tomorrow. The man that does nothing for me but try to push whatever the latest Pharmaceutical Rep has pushed on him, on me. He practically reads from the pamphlet. As soon as I see it’s almost exactly like Brintellix, Pristiq, Abilify, Seroquel, or something else I’ve already been on I start to get anxious and annoyed. Then the game of “Have you ever been on?” starts. You’re the Doctor, I’m the patient. I have cognitive issues and write everything down, you have a computer and a secretary. You also make a shitload of money and your telling me that you can’t pull up my file on your screen to see what you’ve prescribed me before? You want me to do your job for you? Which by the way I have been. I’ve been adjusting my mood stabilizer so I don’t rip anyone’s head off or cry until I’m so dehydrated I look like chicken jerky. You’re welcome.

I’m also tired of the Political goop on television. The sensationalism of it all. When did a race for President turn into fodder for Entertainment Tonight or TMZ’s hottest story besides Brangelina’s divorce? (Her fault. Turn your hands into 2 scales. Pretend you are weighing dysfunction with Angelina on one side and Brad on the other. Now tell me between French kissing your brother while looking like the mother from The Munsters and Billy Bob who’s side is weighed down more? Thank you.) ANYONE RUNNING FOR PRESIDENT SHOULD NOT HAVE ANY TAPE RECORDINGS OF SAID PERSON OJECTIFYING OR DISRESPECTING WOMEN. I don’t care how many E-mails your opponent has you f*cking idiot. You should be ashamed of yourself. The only reason any woman sleeps with you is because you are GREEN $$$! Now you insult them? Good luck after this. Although even O.J. still managed to find a girl or two so what does that say about us?

No one wants to talk about one of the biggest issues. The Suicide rate and the Mental Health system. You really are not hearing it discussed much. I really do wonder what other countries think of us when they see our suicide rate is higher than our murder rate. That we would rather kill ourselves than live here? That the U.S. isn’t all it’s cracked up to be?

I’m in my runaway mode again. I want to go somewhere warm. I want there to be a pool, no flies, no one to yell at me but people that will talk about movies and TV with me. They won’t mind if I babble. I won’t have to take extra Klonopin to make myself quiet so they won’t send me home. My mom would’ve listened. She didn’t care if I talked too much. My brother in law before I was diagnosed, thought I had always had too much caffeine and found it hysterical. He doesn’t now. Now everyone finds it to be a “problem” or I must be “off my meds” or not taking them correctly. Odd how they all thought it was funny before. No one finds me very funny now. My dad has started to roll his eyes.

One thing that hurts me deeply is seeing someone eye roll me. I have no spine, no way to stand up for myself. I really want to slap them upside their head until their eyes roll back into position. But I can’t. I’m not capable of it sober. 8 years of thank yous, yes please, no thanks, can I help you with that? Have taken it’s toll. My parents brought us up to be polite. It only stuck to one of us. Unfortunately the other two’s politeness stuck too. I can’t shake it.

I think I’m winding down and I am now having a hot flash. The joys!


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