Yesterday I was swimming in hypomania. Like, watching nothing but funny collegehumor videos on youtube cos everything is great and hysterical hypo. To my credit I did go to a thrift store and NOT buy a single thing, which is rare even when stable but when manic? Frigging miracle. Of course, some strange lady came up to me and asked if I knew where the used baby clothes store in town was located.
Which started the whole “Did she just ask me that cos we’re both in a thrift store or does she think I am so fat I must be pregnant?”
Meh.Thing with hypo, it nags you a little but it floats away pretty quickly. In contrast to depression where such an asinine occurrence can haunt you for days and chisel away at your fragile self esteem until you become convinced you should ban all your clothes and just buy a circus tent and some safety pins because you REALLY ARE THE SIZE OF A COMBINE.
Oh, depression, you make me giggle. NOT.
I think all bipolars can agree. Mania feel good. It’s like ten orgasms on a roller coaster while dosed on laughing gas and ecstasy.
I think we can all also agree when the mania, long term or brief hypo, ends…The following SPLAT sucks swedish meatballs marinated in ricin and cat piss.
How I want to cancel my subscription to this bipolar byproduct called Splatify. But it’s a lot like trying to cancel those freebie AOL discs in the 90’s…HA HA HA HA HA YOU WILL NEVER BE FREE EVER EVER YOU WILL DIE AND WE WILL STILL CHARGE YOU BECAUSE WE OWN YOUR SOUL, YOUR PCS SOUL, AND THE SOULS OF ALL OFFSPRING AND…
No, I’m not really manic again, just got a day and a half dose of Lithium on board so I am in that mixed place where I wanna smack people with shovels yet don’t have the energy to actually do it so I just prattle and swear like I’ve been sniffing sea monkeys and rubber cement.
What is so galling about all this is, it never should have happened. Between the doctor and pharmacy, I should never ever have been placed in a position where I didn’t have enough pills to run on should their stock run out. I have to start all over because all these professionals don’t realize what living hell all this is. And while yeah, I ran short on my meds cos I was broke, I also made sure I at least split the remainder up and had 300mg Lithium per day until I got money. Only for them to not have the stock to fill the script. So even when I fuck up I am trying to do it, well, intelligently (intelligent fuck up? Oxymoron?). I feel like they all failed me and it’s such a disappointment, even if nothing new. And if I complain all I will be told is to go talk to a counselor because yeah, counseling totally fills out that script and has the pharmacy fill it.
If we are to take responsibility for our dysfunctional thoughts and personalities, then it’s about damned time the professionals take their share, too. If you want to be conservative with the refills on shit like Xanax to avoid addicts and people who sell them or whatever, fine. But no bipolar patient should ever find themselves limited to the extent they are left without a net for days.
Yeah, yeah, harp on it some more, Morgue. At this point, I am acting on the assumption most of my tribe has abandoned me and no one is reading this aside from a couple of truly devoted individuals so I will rant and harp all the fuck I want.
What I learned last night is that nothing I do matters at all. Ever.
See, I was hypo and laughing and feeling okay, maybe I can deal with some company. So R comes over and he’s all sad sacky and quiet (normally he can’t shut up about broken stuff) and I asked a couple of times what was up in the event he needed to vent or ya know, do that socially polite thing which he never does for me. Ya know, give a damn or pretend to. Like true man form, he said he was okay.
Which was why I was so flabbergasted when he went to leave, after reiterating numerous times that I was acting batshit (he was warned about the mania for the last five days, used to love manic me) but last night he was tired and sore from working and apparently, I was annoying. As he sulked out, he said, “Hope you feel better soon.”
WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK IS THAT????
If I had felt any better (thank you mania) I’d have been humping my refrigerator while singing “I’m too sexy”. So I spend a year in a barely functional grump ass depression which he ignores yet I have a few days of mouthy laughing fun and “feel better soon”????
These bitches be crazier than me. Besides, he wasn’t tied to a chair, he could have left at any time if my mania was that irksome. Instead he waits until he’s got a few beers in him then he acts like a fucking (word that rhymes with runt). Sorry, truth is obscene and hurtful. It was uncalled for, especially after all my warnings and talking about my frustration over the situation with me meds. It’s like he wanted to piss me off or hurt me, whatever he could manage to do to let me know how insignificant I still am in his world. Like so many times way back when. Because mental illness isn’t real and Iam just doing all this for shits and giggles.
How long do I have to chap my lips kissing this man’s ass to atone for my past bipolar sins that hurt him?How long is iT reasonable for McMUggles to hold this shit against us? And now with this car deal my dad got me into I am beholden to emotional battering (and yeah, no drama, that is how it feels to be disrespected for simply having a mood disorder.) for fuck knows how long.
I sent him a text to let him know his behavior was very unsupportive. He never replied.
So I deal with his functioning alcoholism and narcissism because it’s just who he is.
I have a mental imbalance and he can shun me when it becomes irritating or troublesome.
Fuck a fancy bag, those fuckers are assclowns.
Then he had to offend me further because my old laptop, Ass Trash, that went blue screen of death and my nephew revived it…Well it’s gone dead. I mean, no signs of life. I have two different power supplies, they work. The charging port was never right and I told R numerous times and he kept telling me to get a new cord and ignoring me. As usual. Now the battery has drained to zilch and it’s one of those computers that won’t even power on and charge unless it has a little battery juice left. Now to get it running I have to spring for a battery and still that port is gonna be broken. Yet this jackass is telling me I am wrong even after I researched it, tested all my outlets, both cords, and of course….I am wrong.
I am too stupid to know this so next time he has some customer computer issue I am gonna be too stupid to work on that, too.
Furthermore, I think if I hear from him I am just gonna text back “still not feeling well” for the next six months.
Oh, that car deal with be wielded like a sword, no doubt. At this point I want to go set it on fucking fire just to get out from under this debt. I’d rather owe some knee breaker from Chicago called Rocco than be indebted to these fucks who act like this bipolar thing is some scam.
Just fucking disgusted.
Ya know, it was one thing when in marriages/ relationships and the “in sickness and health” thing was pissed on. Marriages and shit don’t work out, fine.
But to get this sort of thing from people who call themselves your friends…
It hurts. Yes, it is even hurtful to people like me with cold dead blackened hearts.
Because of all the things I can to improve myself…I can’t become not bipolar.
And I think being hurt and angry are perfectly justified emotions and NOT part of any personality or mood disorder.