I woke up pissed off. At everything. At everyone. But it’s not even a good pissed off where I want to rant and lament. No, this is a “what’s the fucking point of existence when I am surrounded by assholes” anger. I have nothing to say that isn’t nasty.
R has already texted three times to complain that he’s not getting much work done because it’s not as much fun without me there.
Yeah, that’s me, a manic depressive, bucket of laughs and ball of fun. Happy fun ball Niki, that’s me.
Not fucking today.
I ignored the first text. Work’s not fun without someone there to keep you company and amuse you? So sad, you fucking loser. That’s what I wanted to say. I did not.
The second text…I just wanted to toss out “I wasn’t fun when you broke up with me and married someone ten times nastier than I could ever be so fuck you.” (It also implies that I somehow am jealous and considering he’s still the same self absorbed fucker he always was, I sometimes pity his wife as much as I pity him for having to put up with her.)
Sending that text would, however, be a dick move on my part.
I am infamous for being a dick.. It’s hard to have filters when your mood is like a fucking infection raging through your body giving you a fever and chills and aches. I imagine it to be a lot like demonic possession. I can’t “shake it off”. Best I can do is repeat the mantra “it’s just a mood, it’s just a mood, it’s just A STUPID FUCKING MOOD.” Not that it helps a whole lot. I inevitably forget to bite my tongue and say something douchey. In a mood like this, it’s bridge burning territory. I can’t afford that.
So I fired back a text quoting Pinky and The Brain (it was one of our favorite shows to watch with his kids) and said I may be in later AFTER I find Abe Vigoda’s pants. (It’s a Pinky thing.) But the alternative was to say something nasty, and for all I know by afternoon I could be bouncing off the walls manic.
That text felt so fucking forced and false, because I am not feeling mirthful or amusing. I am just pissed off. I don’t even know why.
Which leads to another long running dilemma. I am never entirely sure if I am actually having an honest feeling or if the current mood is skewing it, blowing it up into some big deal that it truly isn’t. I try to gauge it by if it’s still eating away at my mind three days later, then it really is a problem. (I lived in that perpetual three day rule state with the Donor, because just the fact the man drew breath pissed me off, and it never seemed to go away, so while he made it seem like some sort of personality or mental defect, I am pretty sure it’s just that he was a walking talking version of nails on a chalkboard for me.)
This mood sucks. I don’t like taking my moods out on others, either. Which is why I tend to self isolate and live life from that self imposed exile.
Unfortunately, the powers that be, the ones I kinda need and can’t afford to piss off by fading into my agoraphobic hermit state, take precedence. Which just makes me feel angrier because I don’t want my ability to handle my moods to be shunted aside just to please others. I need to deal with this shit in my own way, without an audience, and it feels now like I don’t have a choice but to go forth and risk making dick comments and pissing people off with what they consider “rudeness”. Yes, I say please and thank you but my angry outbursts are a simple matter of bad manners.
Fuck. I’d rather have Ebola than bipolar. Bleeding from the eyeballs would probably be more socially acceptable and worthy of compassion than “mental issues”. And at least ebola would be swift and put me out of my fucking misery.
I am beginning to think the Lamictal is starting to konk out. I shouldn’t be cycling this way, I’ve been through six different mood cycles in three days. Tis not optimal. But Abilify is crap and Lithium makes me a fucking numb zombie, so I have no clue what I will do if Lamictal is indeed losing effectiveness.
As for the depression…I am beginning to accept it. Maybe I am just a miserable bitch who’s too nasty to find a point to the whole life. Nobody gets out alive anyway, so what IS the fucking point?
I am a dozen rays of sunshine today, am I not? Never mind the rays have razor sharp points on them and might just skewer anyone who comes near.
To boil down this rather convoluted post…
I’d just like to know why I am so pissed off.
And am I really pissed off or is this some bipolar thing?
My kingdom for some clarity.