I've just finished a short walk on the treadmill out of guilt. I tried to help myself along with 1mg of clonazepam. I only allowed myself to sweat a little, because I'm too lazy to wash my long fucking hair. When I was done, I finished re-watching the latest True Blood ep, then showered.
Quickly, I dressed and came out digging around for seroquel to numb the horrific anxiety and a bit of my brain, that usually begins around noon or so. Better a numb zombie than freaking out and entertaining suicidal thoughts. If only I could numb myself with painkillers, and lay around alone and smoke cigarettes, enjoying my high all by myself. That's the way it should be, in my opinion.
Maybe I'll kill a little time on Twitter, I thought, since there's nothing on tv that I want to see and nothing that needs immediate cleaning. But fuck it, all that information, too many words coming too quickly at me triggers some anxiety that I don't need. I'd already been on at the ass crack of dawn, mostly posting True Blood related pics. Fuck knows why. I made a few wisecracks that just came off the top of my head. No, I don't need the stress of Twitter. I just want to be comfortably numb. Is that too much to ask?
Instead, I will listen to the Sookie Stackhouse audio books, refill my meds box, and hopefully become boneless. If not, I will make myself comfortably numb.
WARNING AT BOTTOM OF PAGE
This is a mental health/mental illness blog dealing with daily life with words that are real and raw, video, pics, and music chosen by one fucked-up kitty. I am diagnosed Bipolar, with (crippling) Anxiety Disorder, and seriously horrific PTSD.
Sometimes it's a real treat of Freedom of Speech and Crazy to let it out, and scream something out in public when you just lose it, and let the stress out of your sails in one quick go, unlike the "unlucky" majority. Nope. Can't say everything is bad 100% of the time. Now take your meds and get ready...
This blog is permanently under construction/destruction.