One minute everything seems hunky dory, the next, it's funky poor-y. Fucking anxiety. It is a fact that I pretty much live thinking consciously/unconsciously that I have to do everything as fast as I possibly can, like the Energizer Bunny on wicked coke and a portable caffeine IV. I reminded myself of that as soon as I was done washing up and getting dressed in the bathroom. Then I went into the bedroom and told my spouse the same shit, and that there is absolutely no fucking reason why I should be in a rush about anything! I'm on disability! I can't work! I don't have something that needs taking care of 24/7 FFS. As soon as I was done mentioning it, I let myself cry a tear or two and walk away. I don't like to let myself cry ever, if I can help it.
Fuck this moody shit! Fuck this hormonal hell! Fuck this manic/depressed shit! Yummy is this cinnamon graham cracker!
I do have one really good thing to be giving myself a pat on the back for (or cinnamon graham cracker), and that is getting on the treadmill again! And on a Sunday, of all days, after getting a wake-up paw poke in the face from the cat at 5ish. I just need to calm my ass down and try not to overdo it on the clonopin (addictive) and Seroquel.
Ok, now I have to find something to post with this...
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.