Daily Archives: June 18, 2013

Able to breathe

So, this is how far down on the food chain I am with my illustrious “friend” slash “boss” :He couldn’t take two minutes to call me himself last night, he outsourced it to his wife. Which is fine, I’d rather talk to her anyway, since she is aware I am a human being and not simply a procurer of parts to fix the busted stuff. Still…

She told me he said to take Tuesday off because his friend Mark would be coming in to help him. I would be a little miffed except it means he actually LISTENED to me yesterday when I explained that the reason I don’t like to be there when his friends are is because I’d rather be with my kid instead of letting my mom warp her some more.

Now logical brain is ecstatic that he actually HEARD me for once.

Paranoid brain, on the other hand, has decided to start throwing out these little messages: “Maybe this is his passive aggressive way of punishing you for daring to speak up.” “You’ve been waiting to get thrown under the bus, watch out for those wheels, it’s coming!” “You’ve alienated him so much with your moods that now he doesn’t even want to tell you to fuck off, he has to have his wife talk to you.”

If ever I feel a moment of peacefulness, my scumbag brain is there to ruin it. And of course, the “professionals” are always there to point out the paranoid thoughts are in keeping with the facets of my disorders and that logically, I know it’s just misfiring in my brain.

Unfortunately, that paranoid misfiring has been right often enough to make very wary of it. Maybe my paranoia isn’t logical, but being on the receiving end of the worst people have to offer is just my life. I pissed in someone’s Cheerio’s at some point and have been paying for it ever since. If there’s a knife in a 50 mile radius, chances are, it’s spent some quality time plunged into my back.

Sound whiny? Like I’m portraying myself to be a victim? How I wish it were. Because after being stabbed in the back so many times for no reason other than knowing crappy people, you start to question yourself, your actions, your entire existence. Which leads to the bad bad “I should just die” thoughts.

Again, scumbag brain at its finest.

R says I am contrary. I prefer the term mercurial because my personality does change according to my mood swings. How could it not? It’s not something I do on purpose. “Oh, I asked for a vanilla shake so you gave me a vanilla shake? Now I don’t want it, I demand a chocolate shake!” Nope. Not that damn simplistic. But just judging on the days when my anxiety is skyrocketing and I have trouble simply making a phone call…Only to bound out of gate, intrepid and feisty, a couple of days later and call everyone and their dog and their’s dog’s cousin. It is all about state of mind, and the very definition of bipolar, especially cyclothymia disorder, is varying states of mind related to erratic mood swings. If it made sense, we’d have all the answers and could cure it. Being surrounded by people who lack the intelligence to grasp the facts is taking a toll on me yet again. I feel shitty enough ab0ut the bipolar. To have people who just assume it’s personality and basically dismiss me as too much of a pain in the ass is a thorn in my paw.

I digress.

Once informed my presence would not be required, it’s like every muscle in my body unknotted and the tension dissipated and for the first time in weeks, I felt like I remembered how to breathe again. No rush to put my kid to bed, no hurry to ensconce myself in my bedroom. I played Neopet games. I watched Law and Order. I played with my kid. At 11, I put her to bed, then retired to my room and read until 3 am. No panic over having to get up and deal with the petri dish. Just relaxed clear mindspace. It was amazing. I took 25 mg of Trazadone because I knew other than getting up with my kid, I wouldn’t have to claw my way out of the hangover to function to R’s specs.

I was foggy and down when I got up. Now it’s almost 10:30 am. We ran out, she got a donut, I actually grabbed a slice of pizza for breakfast. Maybe I was just hungry, because while my mood isn’t up, it’s not down, either.

It’s amazing how much more functional I am when the pressure to perform to the expectations of others is removed. It definitely improves the mindspace.

Alternative (Holy Roman) Medicine

After the last encounter with the endocrinologist, I’d reached the end of the line in terms of standard Western medicine. …

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Queen of inappropriate emotion

Much to my dismay, I was basically ordered to be at the shop today even though I tried to bow out. It wasn’t so much the bullshit “No one can do what you do” argument he gave. It was more my “if I want my car fixed, I am going to have to swallow some major pride and earn my brownie points.”

Since being told how I annoy him, my desire to be in his proximity has dwindled to negative numbers.

But I sucked it up.

Of course, I was down, then…BOOM. No reason at all my mood shot up and I was half manic, talking a mile a minute even though I swore to myself I was going to keep my mouth shut since I am so annoying. But the brain just kept misfiring and the words just kept coming out of my mouth. He was in a stressed out pissed off mood, so it did not go over well. I fail to understand how he has the right to demand good moods or stable moods from me when half the time he himself is in a mood that wouldn’t qualify as good.

He wasn’t exactly forthcoming with mirth. He just sounded annoyed with me for being so talkative. Yet when I am quiet, he asks repeatedly what is wrong.


I am beginning to see that nothing I do will ever be right for this person. He is just emotionally unavailable and so self absorbed, I either accept it or move on. And if he could just accept my quirks, I’d have no problem with his. But I absolutely cannot stand people who have this “Take me as I am but change everything about yourself” mentality.

I got shit done, though. It’s amazing how my abilities vary from mood swing to mood swing. Some days my anxiety is so high, I can’t even make a phone call, I will deliberately “forget” or make excuses, waiting until I feel less vulnerable and panic stricken. Today was not one of those days. I was turned up to ten like a blasting stereo, kicking ass and taking names. Meanwhile, he got fuck all done, he was pissy and distracted. I did everything on my list except the one thing he said he would do, and as I was leaving he said I forgot to do that.


The end of the day was when it hit me like a ton of bricks just what a wretched person he is. And by wretched, I mean, he cares only if it pertains to himself. My mom called me, said my kid poked herself in the eyeball and wouldn’t stop crying, so I darted to go get her…And R actually hands me money and tells me to get his beer while I am out. I was just floored. No concern for my kid, no waiting to see if maybe I wanted to go get her and bring it back, just telling me to go do it.

If I had done that shit to him as far as one of his kids being injured, he would have busted my balls.

But it’s always different with him. He can make demands and be oblivious and downright cruel.

If you reciprocate, intentionally or not, well, then he is free to call you annoying and take an attitude with you. Like earlier when I said my kid had changed her mind about something and he said, “Oh, contrary, like her mom.” I bit my tongue, because every instinct told me to defend myself, but at this point, there’s no chance in hell it’s ever gonna do any good.

Another thing that really irks me is he will fake being interested in my life, then halfway through answering his question about something, he will interrupt me to start talking about busted stuff or some comedy skit or some classic rock band from Nitwit, Canada.

He’s so shallow and vapid, it makes me nauseous. And I know deep down, like down in his bone marrow, he’s a good person, but it’s buried in so many layers of bullshit, associating with him is going to bring me nothing but misery.

Unfortunately, until someone finds my resume worthy of an interview, this is what I am stuck with.

A person who tells me to be more positive and in a better mood, then chastises me for being positive and in a better mood.

He says he can’t win with me, but can’t even draw the fucking parallel.

Knowing my cycles, I will be in a shit mood tomorrow and he will be in a good mood and it’s just gonna be as much fun as gargling razor blades with battery acid.

Bipolar disorder has crowned me the queen of inappropriate emotion.