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...
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