Daily Archives: March 4, 2013
Oh it’s been a month of Mondays, or more I am not sure, since I have participated in Romantic Monday and I miss it and decided I would like to [...]
This week’s Flash in the Pan - Flash Fiction Challenge ; Red from The M3 Blog is offering up the challenge and anyone can join the fun, Just link your [...]
I feel like I am burning inside today. It is not so much a depression as an all encompassing nervous anger where I want to scream at everyone and everything. My gums already ache from gnashing my teeth, trying to keep it in check. I do not want to deal with people right now. It will not end well for them. Then I will have to feel guilty for being a bitch even though I didn’t ask for this and I don’t know why I feel this way.
I just know if you get too close to a crematorium, you’ll get burned.
But of course, “venomous mood” is not a valid excuse to avoid what must be done.
I am about to say screw valid. I can’t afford to burn bridges over a mood subject to change at some point today.
My kid keeps asking me why I am not happy, who I made me feel angry. It’s not any different trying to explain mood swings t a 3 year old than it is to 50 year olds.
No one gets it.
I am fighting it with all I have got. But I am failing.
I’m not sure what the deal is today, but I feel mega puny. And along with that, it seems that my hands have gone sort of fuzzy and clubby. It’s definitely not ideal for writing or typing (and probably not for crochet either, but that I will probably try). I’m sure that this is more related to whatever cold/flu/malaise has been passing back and forth between the family rather than bipolar-related, so I might whine a bit, I’m still relieved to physically feel poorly over mentally feeling poorly. As I’ve said in the past, it serves as a great distraction from my brain’s stupid bullshit.
I’ll take a moment to pat myself on the back for managing to half-assedly do a few things today, and then go back to mulling and feeling puny.
Ever heard of the concept of email bankruptcy? Well, I’m declaring blog bankruptcy. I can’t keep up and I’m not …
It’s me. Just thought I would pop in since it has started getting a little dusty in here. I gave up Facebook for Lent, but then realized a couple days ago, I kind of need to keep blogging in my blogs.
I’m still med free, well, bipolar wise…. I’m still on meds for my other health issues. But I’m in a remission of sorts I suppose. Doing good. Although I have to say, after a couple of years, My body feels like a limb that has been asleep. You know how you get the pins and needles, and then they start to release and your body feels a chill, like you just bit into a peppermint patty? Yeah, that is how my mental state has been.
I’ve been super emotional lately.I attribute that to my menses. But the thought web I have…. It’s just insane! I have been reigning myself in, so at least I am realizing that my mind is getting a bit haywire.
I have always had the belief that I have gone through everything I have gone though in my life for a reason. And I stand firm by that. I know I’m supposed to help people. (Maybe it’s just the crazy talking…)
I’m still pissed that the person never contacted me back for that mental health volunteer position. I don’t do rejection well. What about you? Am I the only one that takes rejection super personal? I mean it’s like my soul is wounded, and I go crazy trying to figure out why I have been rejected, and then I get sad because i’m “no good”, and then I go back to being pissed again. I wish I was just one of those people who had a ‘fuck it’ attitude with that sort of thing.
My cat Nightshade had her first litter of kittens last night. They were premature. Two did not make it. I had to bury them today. It made me feel very sad. She is caring for the remaining two who seem like they could pull through but nothing is ever certain.
Which leaves my other preggo Cat, Belladonna, a waddling round ball who should be popping any time now. Only one survived her first litter, so let’s hope her second litter fares better.
I am not big on religion, not a believer of the heaven/hell/god stuff…Nothing against those who are, it’s just not me…But IF there is a heaven…I hope those poor sweet newborn kittens go there and it is a magical place with lots of catnip toys for them to frollick about with. It is so sad that they drew breath, that they lived…only to have it snuffed out of them because they were born too soon.
Rest in peace, wee ones.
Onto my rant, because that talk is making me way too sad.
Watched more Vampire Diaries today. Really liking that show, to my own shame and chagrin. I’m 40, I should be watching…Um, I have no clue what people my age watch because I don’t really care. I watch what holds my interest. If teenage vampires does that, well, it’s a victory over my ADD.
Had a sudden severe mood crash today. It just came from no fucking place. Abrupt, like driving along at sixty and feeling the engine drop down to zero. No warning, no seque, just CRASH.
I rode it out.
Mood went back up a little.
Wrote a bit on my vampire story.
Now it’s 9:18 pm and I feel the compulsion to make my way to my safe bedroom. I need to prepare for yet another week of pretending everything is okay so I can serve the purposes and needs of everyone but my own. I guess that’s the very definition of everyone’s life. It;s just harder when you’re completely unstable mood wise.
My anxiety was climbing off the charts earlier.
I took the full klonopin dose at once.
Still didn’t help.
So I took a xanax from the stash. (it makes it sound so nefarious to call it that and yet, it only proves my point. How would someone who abuses the drug have a surplus?)
Now…I think I am ready to tune out reality for awhile.
I really don’t want to go to the shop tomorrow.
Maybe it’s just the mood crash. Happens every night toward 7 or 8 pm when the clock’s ticking becomes deafening and reminds me I am about to have to put on the “all is well” mask.
So sick of faking it.
Because I’m not faking it for me. I’m being honest with myself about how I am feeling.
No, I fake it because those around me have no desire to know the truth, to know how I am struggling and how their demands make it even harder for me to get my feet back under me. They don’t care.
Which makes me wonder why I care enough to keep faking it for them when it fills me with so much self loathing.