It’s been a very crappy week mental health wise.
Putting up the tree today for the progeny but my attitude is basically, “Fa la la la, go fuck yourself.”
Least that Corey Taylor song “X-Mas” cheered me up briefly. Grinchiness is not a bad thing when it’s because you’re sickened by the whole commercialization aspect. “I spent this much money on your gift and you only spent this much on mine, so I love you more and am superior.”
Fuck that shit.
I was flying high for awhile.
Now it’s splat time again. (For Bex: “Cos baby baby it’s splat time…”)
Hate this shit. Shit, shit, fuckity fuck fuck.
Yesterday and the day before I just started coming to pieces and the emotional shrapnel went flying. Tears, overwhelming emotions I couldn’t keep in check, a feeling of utter hopelessness and a hatred for everything.
It has passed today although I am far from feeling well.
At best, I am faking it. I’ve had enough drama, my own and that of others’, to last a lifetime after this week.
Ya know, there are people who are educated, classier, make more money and look down on me…But I see their lives and think, wow, mine’s pretty damn good because at least I don’t have to consult a committee on how my hair should look or what clothes I can wear or how long I can be gone without someone being able to reach me on the phone.
I rejoice in the fact I don’t have some overbearing domineering spouse bossing me around.
I am glad I don’t have to take care of a bunch of people by being their maid and slave.
Every time I think I have it so bad…I realize I have the ultimate wealth: the ability to run my own life in a way that is right for me.
I made R mad the other day and he called me a parasite and told me we were done. I thought about it overnight, then informed him we are symbiotic and while the friendship can fuck off, I have EARNED my position at the shop and I do not quit and he will not fire me.
He looked a little stunned but then he kind of smiled and said, “Okay.”
Some people you kind of have to dominate or they will walk all over you for the silliest of reasons. I mean, he got pissed off at me because I broke down in tears the other day and started pouring out all my stresses.
SERIOUSLY? That’s a sin? Friends don’t call you a parasite just because your messy emotions make them uneasy.
I trust him even less now than I did before.
Least this time I am not at his mercy. I earned my spot as shop wench and I am keeping it until it suits me not to. Not like I’m there much anymore since business is slowed. I am taking control of my life and if he really wants me to go away, it better be because I ordered a wrong part or was rude to a customer. Not because I am human and cry. That’s asinine.
And I don’t know why so many men think a woman crying is such a horrific thing. Just because they are Mr Spock without emotions doesn’t mean we are.
It’s been ages, anyway, since I’ve had a meltdown like this. I think I was long overdue.
We were there last night at R’s visiting with his wife and I was just very low, not even wine was helping, so I was a little quick to fly off the handle when offended and mostly, I was sulky and down. He kept asking why and telling me “We’re having a good time, knock it off.”
I flat out said, “I am having a hard time and I am low and frankly, I’d rather be alone than have friends who can’t grasp that concept.”
But he kept telling me snap out of it.
Making it worse.
People suck sometimes.
The whole time we were there, I just wanted to flee the scene. I mean, it was good to see everyone else having a good time, but I simply wasn’t in that mind frame. It’s part of my disorder and my helliday stress and it’s not the end of the fucking world to have a bad night. I was trying to keep to myself and go for a smoke outside if I felt the emotion boiling into a danger zone.
Just, for fuck’s sake, let me have a bad night. It’s nothing personal with bipolar.
I came home and it wasn’t twenty minutes before I basically assumed the fetal position in bed and bit back tears I couldn’t even explain. I couldn’t get comfortable. My mind wouldn’t stop spinning. It was miserable.
But aside from sleepy cobweb brain, today’s mind frame is a little different and less dismal. Such is cyclothymia.
I’m even cycling back out of the irritable spot where I don’t so much mind hugs and cats climbing on me.
It’s a merry go round and since others can’t see it or experience it, they think I am being some dramatic manipulative bitchy trying to ruin everyone’s fun.
Not being able to be yourself, especially when it’s due to a legitimate medical disorder, is stifling and demoralizing.
And the ultimate narcissism is people making my disorder about them, as in “Lighten up” or “What’d I do to make you act this way?”
It’s not about them.
Half the time I don’t even feel like it’s about me. The disorder seems to take on a life of its own and I feel like a bystander, unable to do anything until the mood swings in a different direction.
I think I have a healthy view of my disorder. Yes, I get down and pessimistic and “fuck this, everything sucks, I hope you all die in a fire…”
But I am smart enough to know…It’s not going to stick and it’s the product of a brain that distorts thoughts.
It will pass.
Why can’t others figure that out?
Oh, and fuck them. It’s my insanity and I’ll cry if I want to.
Because chances are, within 24 hours, I will be snarking and laughing again.
Much like a bad storm, you just gotta ride bipolar out.