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, February 12, 2014

Anger and Truffles

Lyrics | Public Image Limited lyrics - Rise lyrics

Whiny woman in commercial, "Help! My car broke down and I need help!"


Crazy woman curled up on couch,"I broke down, and I can't even ask for help!"

Sigh. Breathe...breathe...breathe... let the anger overcome your anxiety. Point out the wrongdoings of another and make a plan to rip them a new asshole. Get their fucking name. Go after them by phone. Leave them a message. Follow up if you don't get a call back. Leave them a hand-written letter next time you go to the clinic they happen to work at.

One of the most unbearable fuck-ups that I cannot deal with without ripping a few new assholes is mistakes or problems with medications. I've even been banned from a pharmacy many years ago. This time, it's personal. I can't be making trips to and from the drugstore because my spouse resents (I suspect) driving me, and I HATE to ask. I will have to do it again very soon for another medication fuck up.

I swore while speaking with the dude working in the pharmacy when I called today about my limited re-fill of clonazepam that they fucked up. NO, MOTHERFUCKER, you do NOT go there.


I had to force a hug upon my non-supportive spouse before I left for the shrink on the bus today. He acted like it was no big deal to him, that he did not understand at all. After this many fucking years? Get a fucking clue! What do I have to do? Wear a sign around my neck? A sandwich board?

I made it out the back door of the building in my dark sunglasses and favorite boots, listening to happy iPod walking songs. I watched a wee murder of crows gathering around the base of a tree and poking around it. They were so close to me but had no fear. I managed to cross a few streets to the bus stop without getting hit. The last time I went out, I think I just crossed the streets and forgot to even look around me.

The bus stop was crowded, which was a little disappointing, because there was no place to sit. Luckily, the bus came early and took me away with my music, and personal space shield. I couldn't wait to get to the part of the route that passed the large cemetery to look, and wish I was wandering around there, listening to music.

Just after I got off the bus, I put on "Don't Fear (The Reaper), which has become a silly habit. I lost a button on the way in the shrink's office. At the shrink's, I bawled the whole time and talked mostly about how to try to better communicate with my spouse, make him more aware of his hurtful words, what the hell he means by some of them, and shit like that. I had green tea.

My spouse picked me up at 1pm and "Don't Fear (The Reaper) immediately came on the radio. It reminded me of how I wanted to shoot myself so badly last summer, and how quietly and calmly suicidal I was. How I kept it all to myself. I had planned to get a weapon, a dress, boots, time, music, place, booze, pills, all that shit. Then something happened that switched the suicidal thought from "ON" to "OFF". It was weird. But I can't write about it because no one in the whole world knows about it but me, and I'm going to keep it that way. So... I guess for some reason, I want to live.

At least live long enough to get to the drugstore and buy a few boxes of truffles and a See's sampler. Maybe even more!

We swung by the drugstore on the way home, the spouse was in a rush, so we ended up with nothing, but I'll have to go back for more meds, and will try to ride the bus again if he won't go with me. There will be fine chocolates here. I swear!

Better living through Rx and fine chocolates? Fuck yeah!


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