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.
Wednesday, August 21, 2013
Bring On The Zombies
I finally saw my babygirl, but have to admit disappointment. I don't know why. Maybe she was too. Very moody and strange experience it was, but just hanging around together was a good thing. She's left town now.
I just got back from a trip to the shrink out in H Hills, the store, and Rx store. I was bored at the shrink and surprised he didn't talk to me more since I hadn't seen him in weeks due to feeling really crazy shitty anxious, etc. I just went over what happened in the past week or so, visit with babygirl and spouse's bday. Mostly things have been sucking as much as usual, but I had some kind of breakthrough yesterday, thank God, FINALLY. Bring on the zombies, I say. My shrink said I looked "tired". I said "glassy-eyed and stoned". Well, that's mostly just the good ol' seroquel talking.
After out visit that I cut short, I rode back to my neighborhood and went to the Rx store first. The fucked up my order all over the fucking place. What's fucking new? This happens at every fucking pharmacy that I go to, and it's just a matter of time before I lose my shit and get banned from the store. I had to hold it in today, and they REALLY fucked up, plus I had to pay an extra "co-pay" because the Medicare Part D insurance co won't pay for more than 30 tablets per month. Motherfuckers. I need a pill splitter, too, but of course at this huge drugstore, they had none.
My next stop after about 45 minutes of waiting around in the Rx store was the grocery store. Apparently my "club" card didn't register and I didn't notice until I got home. I had two boxes of overpriced cereal and overpriced beer imported beer (I refuse to drink American beer), so I didn't care. Fuck it. I should go back and buy some more... So we got beer for later. We shall see what happens.
I'll probably get some snotty looks and attitude from the spouse, but after seeing the shrink after so long, I don't give a fuck. This bitch is gonna roll how she sees fit, and it appears she has an independent bit of a manic thing going on, or is it the larger doses of seroquel in the morning that are setting the stage for zombie out in public? Bring on the zombie, I say.
I'm listening to a Canadian "classic rock" station. Man, I feel old. Listening to the stuff I heard and liked as a little kid. I was glad to be exposed to radio from day one. As far as the future goes, it's still day to day, and today I see the spouse coming back with a pizza after work. Hopefully, he'll bring some more beer, but at least we have a 6-pack to fight over. He can have the pizza.