Day Of The Living

God damn, broads are tuff, despite their hormones, any MH issues... Yeah, me, today, right now.

One day you can feel, literally feel like slashing your own throat in front of a mirror with a brand new straight razor so you get it right, hit the right spot, see the start of the  blood gush out, see it clearly in your mind (among other suicidal visions), then bleed like you may need to go to the ER the next morning, realizing also that your head is clear of the deadly, noxious fog of stupid, useless emotions that you really have no control over due to hormones and "mood disorders" -- those "emotions" or thoughts that drag you to visions of suicide and/or creation of a "plan of action".
Madness? Self-kindness. Self-mercy. Self-care. Whatever can get your mind through that bit of time needed.

I gave up... well, quit is a better word, 16mg of perphenazine at night that I suggested/decided to take to both humor a couple family members and shut the spouse up. He thought I was "paranoid", acting "paranoid", and for some stupid reason decided to share that with an OCD and PTSD diagnosed relative (unmedicated, in denial), and the fact that I have a (legally purchased) pistol (with a license to carry a concealed pistol in effect). This is ALL (xcept for buying the gun, of course) due to the continued phone/computer douchebaggery/destruction/fuckery/childish games, now violating civil rights and constitutional rights with 'threats' of blackmail. What can you do with that? We shall see. Well,  the fact that he doesn't believe any of it, when he, himself has been affected by it.

Why the fuck would he do that? This relative does not know me, though they are close family. They are not friendly. They are pretty fucking antisocial themselves. Why he didn't call a friend who actually DOES know me is a complete fucking mystery, not to mention completely fucking stupid. He called the most hysterical, worst possible person he could call. So, eventually he had to tell me that he made this stupid phone call, and if topiramate didn't exist, he may or may not have kneecaps after that fucking stupidass violation of privacy and motherfucking stupid move. Nah.. I can get ugly, but only physically if someone attacks me first.

I had to talk to the whacked-out relative over the phone and convince them that the spouse is completely overreacting, and that the gun is not a big deal. It's for protection, as in self-protection, if I ever get outside alone. I mentioned one of the local drug dealer's death threats that I got, and she is just terrified and completely ignorant about guns to the point of NUTS. "Oh we don't want guns in the house"... I don't give a fuck what you want in YOUR fucking "safe" suburban haven, where no one can hear you scream... I never had plans on shooting myself. It's not my style, and not why I bought the gun in the first place well over a year ago, which I already mentioned. Now I've got to worry about if anything my daughter may know about is worrying or worried her.

The spouse also offended me by saying, "You're acting like (I think...) you're one step away from a tin foil hat.' one day. It was then that I wanted to punch him in the face, but the topiramate just sort of eased over those thoughts in almost an instant, replacing them with... almost "mellow" ones, surprisingly, but still irritated in a strange, calm, rational, controllable weird way rather than all-out furious about opening his trap to my family in the first place. And for being a dick. He should be kneeling down and worshipping the topiramate, and maybe asking me to up my dose a bit, offering to pay for every cent of it. All due to the fact that he's "tired of hearing about things not working on the computer or phone", and that he thinks I'm acting "overly paranoid". He just won't open up his fucking eyes, and refuses to see the proof that is available in b/w and//or color, right in front of him.

Fucking stressful as fuck having to live with someone that completely doubts you, writes you off, and thinks you know absolutely nothing that has anything to do with computers, just because he can add memory to his computer, buy loosening a screw or two, and snapping it into place, like any other monkey can do. He can't even make a guess at HTML and/or Java, logs, script in general, fucking names of programs loaded on ones computer? Or suss out a fake web page? After two OS destroyed on 2 sep computers, phone OS destroyed, fake bills, fucked up bills, now trying to violate my civil rights to get/sign up for Medicare Part D, etc. And yet he still refuses to examine or learn more about evidence presented! JFC! He cannot bear the thought that I might know something that he doesn't that has something even vaguely to do with computers or "smartphones". He cant bear to think that he is less knowledgeable about ANYTHING, or could be, than me.

I am on my 3rd (I think) try-out computer at the moment, trying to pick out one that feels right and has a DVD player, CD/DVD RW, and good sound. I think I want a little portable entertainment center and maybe some games (new to me). I have plenty of DVDs to watch, and CDs to play, if I have to dig those up. I was crazed at packing time and tossed the cases to make more room in boxes.

Since then, I've managed to get out more alone. "Armed", yes. It hasn't been a lot of times, but it has been when "necessary". I have dealt with people when I've had to. I still hate talking over the phone (due to the continued fuckery also - always did), but have dealt with that too when I've had to. Unfortunately, I never get to speak to a real worker from the company or bank, or other that I'm trying to reach. It's exhausting, but not for my foot to tap on the button that hangs up the phone, nor for my mouth to spew obscenities and shit. Bad acting and a limited amount of voices make people recognizable. The computer and phone are really nothing more than a convenience than a necessity.

I haven't yet made it all the way to the suburbs on the buses yet, which is a goal I've set, as I have a friend that is stuck out there, unable to drive, and in the disabled way of physical pain, so it's hard for her to get around. I'd like to visit, make it all the way out there, somehow. I know I'll make it. I have to admit, I do feel more safe having a gun in my purse, not carrying a wallet, and the least amount of valuables possible when out in public. Now if I could only use cheap purses, but I can't. I have to have good quality leather or some other stylish, well-made fancy fabric. Picky, picky, picky.

Here's to a happy late Dias de los Muertos

 CLICK HERE FOR DAY OF THE DEAD ALTARS!

Day of the Dead is what I had been looking forward to in a way, trying to make myself less and less anxious as it came about finally. I bought makeup and a top hat to wear to the public celebration. I became less an less sad and anxious, and was good to go when the event came around. It wasn't that bad as far as the crowd of people part - there were a lot of Mexicans, lots to look at, lots of entertainment and a badass tamale stand with horchata. My daughter and her friend showed up as well as a friend and her daughter. I was all made-up, and dressed up. I had trouble sitting "like a lady", I noticed. Not used to wearing a dress! I did stuff myself in the end with Day of the Dead pan dulce too. Oops! My ancestor were honored, offerings given up, invitations to come back secretly sent out. It was a good night. Lots of people took my pic due to my make up and getup. I didn't mind at all. Hopefully one will email a copy to me! Didn't get a whole lot of pics. It didn't feel or seem appropriate except for the set-ups of the altars and "graveyard". Seeing kids with their faces painted was cool. It made me wonder what the non-Mexican or non-Day of the Dead were telling their children as they dragged them around. It seemed very bizarre to me. What could you say to a kid that wouldn't confuse them?

Now I have to stay alive in order to stay at a friend's house later this month. That ridiculous "holiday", "thanksgiving" has been cancelled. I have to remind myself that I have something to look forward to besides Dr Eye Candy, the shrink for now, halfway decent sleep last night and maybe more due to active hormones, and maybe some snow! Peace and quiet, hanging out with an old friend, getting away from here, and possibly playing with a dog in the snow. And wearing my ridiculous furry hat! I have reasons to go on kicking and screaming, if necessary. No restraints, just shoot me up with Haldol. I don't care if I drool.

I'll be just fine when this shit blows over, I'm physically "normal" again, and all is groovy. Well, groovy-ish. Back on more on even ground with the emotional crap and not falling asleep all over the place. Today is such a huge difference from yesterday's moods/thoughts/feelings/depressive shit. Hell, I might even make it outside again soon.

Some Are Born To The Endless Night

The Doors - End of the Night

Take the highway to the end of the night 
End of the night, end of the night 
Take a journey to the bright midnight 
End of the night, end of the night 

Realms of bliss, realms of light 
Some are born to sweet delight 
Some are born to sweet delight 
Some are born to the endless night 
End of the night, end of the night 
End of the night, end of the night 

Realms of bliss, realms of light 
Some are born to sweet delight 
Some are born to sweet delight 
Some are born to the endless night 
End of the night, end of the night 
End of the night, end of the night

It's Saturday, which means that doing the treadmill should not be an option. It should be done. I feel too sick to even move too much at this point, so I can't see that it's going to happen. Another fail?

My alarm woke me up, but also the spouse this time, and he actually got up. I was instantly irritated. Fucking PMS.I could not stand to be in his presence or hear him. I felt a little guilty about it, but stopped myself because I was going out into the dark to the Starschmucks around the corner. Had to get away from here. 

I tried to watch a tv show on my phone, but I guess my connection wasn't cooperating. I don't know anything about that stuff. So that was out. All I had was music, but it just wasn't enough of a distraction to be able to stay after finishing my coffee. 

Outside, it was dry, dark, and not too cold. Again, I couldn't find my friend, the moon, but I found I was enjoying my smoke before I went back in the building. Walking down the hall to my door, the hallway seemed never ending and crazy. Maybe vertigo. Maybe I didn't want to go back, so my brain started fucking with me.

Mostly I just feel...nausea...with a dose of anxiety coming on. I can feel my cheeks starting to burn up. I don't know if that's from anxiety or not getting enough clonopin in time. Very addictive stuff, they say. 

I doubt that I'm going to get anything done, like the taxes. I tried to start doing that yesterday eve, but the spouse was being too noisy and distracting that I couldn't concentrate for shit. No matter how many times I read bits and pieces of instructions and rules, I just couldn't get it. I'm trying not to let it become overwhelming, but it's really feeling almost impossible with the presence of the spouse - his comings and goings, his seemingly happy little mood that I'm doing the taxes. He probably has big dollar signs in his eyes and a big smirk on his face, but I won't look at him.

I'm tired. Tired of this fucking anxiety, taxes, bullshit, pms, irritability, physical symptoms... I just want to push all the papers off the couch and curl up in a ball. 

I feel so weak, like someone has taken the vacuum hose to me and sucked out any energy that I had, and kicked me in the uterus.

I just feel wrong. All wrong and unable to deal with figures over and over. I wish I wasn't that slow and cognitively impaired to deal with paperwork and shit, but I NEED it OUT of my life. No one's going to help me either. I wonder if I should request and extension, but I don't want to drag it on, and I can't. I am obligated to give my daughter my info, and don't ever want to let her down again.

Current status: Fail

Frankie-stein's Monster - WARNING - "S" WORD DISCUSSED

I do not have a solid grip on my "life". I write this as I sit on a towel, in my underwear, in front of a fan,  re-watching last night's episode of "True Blood" like some nutcase. All along the top of this computer screen are addresses and websites of gun shops in the area. One I'm actually familiar with, and have visited it in the past  year or so, purely for the amusement of my spouse, because he's not from this country, and you just can't go out and by all kinds of crazy guns where he comes from. I'm all sweaty and stinking from walking on the treadmill and having such long god damned hair.

I'm getting a grip on something here though, it's called Faking It. One of the first psychiatrists that I ever saw actually told me to "fake it". He was referring to "being happy". He was dead (ha) serious. Anyway, I was thinking maybe it's because I've finally started to take control of working on the possibility of another way besides pills in order to "opt out" of this shit existence called life. When the proper time comes, of course. I'm not pressuring myself. I don't feel so anxious or in such a desperate hurry any more. There are steps I need to take, and later appointments that I need to go to, medication to take, a life to fake, a shower to force myself to take. Because of this, I've removed a bit of some very unwanted stress from my little life.

This whole week, I have no set appointments or anything that I need to stress myself out about. I just don't care anymore about some of the little things that have been irritating me recently. Who knows. This could all be a case of good ol' completely unpredictable PMS. Fucking hormones. I'm not going to feel guilty to be found laying on the couch in front of the fan when the spouse comes home. I'm not going to feel guilty whether I've walked on the treadmill or not. I'm  not going to care much about what I eat, as long as I don't stuff myself and make myself feel physically uncomfortable. No more food shame. I'm not going to care much about getting dressed or putting on makeup so much anymore. I feel a bit more relaxed, and when I don't, I take more clonazepam (sublingually) , and hope it does something to stop the bad feeling fast.

Post shower...

Back on the rickety loveseat (my perch) with my laptop and the noisemaker with pics (tv), I sit again with my laptop. I managed to wash my face and brush my teeth after my shower, as well as put on a crappy "house dress". A house dress is one so shitty and cheap you wouldn't wear it in public. I put perfume in my hair, but still haven't bothered to brush it, which it desperately needs. I put on some face lotion and dusted on some face powder and a smidgen of lip balm.

Now, why do some states allow people with terminal illnesses die "with dignity", or assisted "suicide"? My mental disorders are indeed terminal illnesses to me, and I should have the right to die with dignity when I feel my time's up as well. What the fuck? Does bipolar disorder or borderline personality disorder go away? Can you be cured of them? Are they not then terminal illnesses? Do we not suffer as much mental pain as those with physical illnesses suffer from physical pain? How is it fair that they can eventually "opt out" of life, and those with serious MH diagnoses are doomed and forced to live with their sickness and pain? Tell me how the fuck that is fair? Not that I'm dumb enough to believe there is fairness in the world. I always thought the word "fair" was a fucking joke.

Maybe I do care that I die with some dignity, it's just shamefully unfair that those of us that are cursed with terminal mental diseases, don't have a whole lot of options. I want to be well made-up, hair looking pretty good, and wearing clean clothes when I go. I want my iPod for appropriate music, the fan on, and to just generally be in physical comfort when I go. I want to make sure I've told the ones that I love the most that I'll love them forever, forgive my family members, mail out personal messages to some people. I want my organs harvested and my remains burnt. If there is some kind of service or wake, I will have a message directed toward anyone that might attend, and only one song to play at this thing, as corny as it may sound to some:  Don't Fear (The Reaper). This is a video with the lyrics for the music.



I don't care how silly or stupid it sounds to anyone. I've been listening to the song since I was a little kid, and have been waiting for a longass time for the time to come. In the end, it's all good and there's happiness. That's all I wanted: to be happy like other people. Blue Oyster Cult. Yeah, the "more cowbell" song.

Apparently, after being diagnosed with Biploar Disorder, PTSD, Anxiety Disorder, and BPD, Depression, gone through years of shrinks, diagnoses, med cocktails, etc, one is really not supposed to expect happiness. They're expected to take meds, see shrinks, work, have social relationships, and somehow overcome and/or "manage" their illnesses and their life. Baby, it's been so many years, you wouldn't believe. It ain't gonna ever happen. Unfortunately, I think my spouse isn't hip to real craziness, so he's in the dark, where he shall remain.

The spouse and I haven't talked about suicide in a very long time, but we've talked about death, and the possibility of an afterlife and all that. We've talked about god/no god (or goddess?) shit. We both want to be cremated. It would be kind of cool for anyone close to have some of the ashes, such as a vial or something, if they wanted. I'd rather be burnt than left to rot, though the first image that comes to mind when I hear cremation is some of the ovens I saw in a concentration camp near Berlin years ago.

I became a hardcore atheist at the age of 6 or 7. I destroyed a religious icon with fire, and expected god to strike me down dead if he existed. Mainly, I just couldn't believe there could be a being so brutal as to take my mother away in a car crash, have her covered in blood, and have me remember crawling all over her bloody body in great detail. These days, part of me wants to believe there is something bigger and greater out there than just this life. At this moment, I just want my child to survive and lead a happy life and the rest of the good people of the world. It's taken a long time, but I guess now you could call me an agnostic and not be far off. 

You never know what can happen, so I hope that I can enjoy whatever time I have left on earth with people that I love. Just a little is all I ask. I hope to ditch the crippling anxiety, and shunning socializing. I miss my girl so much and can't wait to see her soon.