I Gotta Get Outta This Place!

I'm gonna go Billith if I don't get out alone tomorrow!

I'm over my cold, and ready to go out. Tomorrow is the perfect morning. I don't care if the spouse is going to work or not, I'm getting the hell out of here for my own sanity! Sanity?

D'oh! Whatever! He'll have to make his own damn coffee. He's fine, going back to work soon, so not my problem.

I'm going to have to venture out past starschmuckfucks one day very soon too. I'm sick of that shithole, even it I can drag my computer down there, and use up their electricity.

Off to bed early, up early, coffee early, smoke early, then exercise. :D It will be ok...

Stolen Rose

Couldn't sleep very well last night, even though I had my Seroquel and clonazepam. I woke up so many times because of my spouse's tossing and turning, then complaining about the cold. Cold? It's summer! Anyway, I couldn't take it anymore, so I got up at the asscrack of dawn - sometime before 6.30am. On a Saturday, of all days. I went out pre-medicated!

I remembered we were low on half-n-half for coffee, and that just wouldn't do for me or the spouse. So I once again thew on some clothes and a hoodie, and ventured outside, walking up to the 7-11. I was wearing sunglasses, and carrying my trusty iPod, so I assumed that's why the cashier ID'd me for the cigarettes I bought.. I'm very very well over 18, so I didn't mind too much, and used my passport.

I don't carry a state ID card because I don't want to have my address on it and strangers knowing it. I also continue to use the checks I have with my old address on them, which also has no telephone number. It's too much information to hand over to a total stranger at a cash register.

I brought another empty coffee bag to Starbucks and used it to get a free coffee, but also ordered a croissant and what they called a "chocolate croissant", that was actually a pain au chocolat. Once again, they nearly got away with heating them up, which of course you don't do, especially to a pain au chocolat! Retards! Will melt the croissant and melt the chocolate! Duh! I thought it would be nice for my spouse. Trying to get on his good side when he wakes up is very difficult, and become an awful chore that I don't look forward to.

When I got back to my building, I was digging around for my keys when an old man with a single pink rose passed me by. There was something familiar about him, though I could swear I've never seen him before. I waited at the front door of my building to see where he went. I thought he was the "crazy man" that lived across the street in the only house on the street. He ended up going right up to the house and let himself in. I wondered where he got the rose, since it was unwrapped and he came from the alley. There was something kind of sweet about it. It was gorgeous.

While outside, I felt no anxiety at all. Was it due to the fact that I just got up? I don't know, but it was good. The sky was all cloudy out, but light, without a car or person in sight. My kind of situation.

The day is only beginning, so god knows what will happen. We desperately need to go to the grocery store, and I'm trying to let the spouse sleep in as long as he can. He wakes up too early on the weekends, and he had a 6-day week this week. Now I'm anxious about how things are going to go. We need some cat litter desperately, which I could only get without him by paying for delivery or by taxi, neither of which I wanted to do. So it's up to him when we go. That also causes me some anxiety, and it could get really bad. Bad to the point that I'm all doped up on seroquel and clonazepam, desperately hanging onto a big shopping cart so I don't fall over. Add sunglasses and poor eyesight to that fucked up equation. A real mess. The spouse detests going to the grocery store. It's never a smooth ride.

Now begins the wait for him to get up so I can make a fresh pot of coffee.

The cat is running around, and acting crazy, trying to wake everybody up - probably so she can have the bed to herself. I can't blame her. That's the way I prefer it.

I'm hoping for a non-freakout day, and a trip to the grocery store, which the thought of already triggers anxiety. Could be more to come...

Rescue

I should be writing every day, but somehow I get distracted by one thing or another. It's fucking hard to concentrate on one thing only. Today my excuse was writing long replies to some pretty sad emails that are a lot like mine, passed back and forth. It kind of got me down, but I had to reply. I don't like to leave people hanging. They need to know that I'm here and that I care.



The past couple of days, I've been able to get out at least to the Starbucks on the corner, just a block away, past sleeping homeless people and restaurant owners doing some kind of early morning business.

The last few months I've been wanting a gun. Not to shoot myself! That's never been the method I'd try, and I believe everyone has their own way to "opt out". Mine is pills and more recently, tall buildings. I haven't been thinking about suicide in a... suicidal way. I just imagine what I'd lose and who I'd lose.  I've just been extremely depressed, but it's mostly been due to crippling anxiety I had been feeling for so damn long, making me almost a total shut-in. The anxiety had become worse than the depression.Then suddenly I'm able to get out the door three days in a row, I think. I think it might be the seroquel.

My usual little thing is to just throw on some clothes, try not to care about my looks, wear sunglasses, and somehow push myself out the door. I recently got a bus pass, which is even more incentive for me to just hop a bus and go downtown, at least.

I had a misunderstanding with my spouse the other night and we were ignoring each other. I hate going to bed angry, without getting shit out of the way. I'll stay up all night if I have to, but in his case, I couldn't. He had to work the following day, and get up at the asscrack of dawn. He told me to "fuck off" earlier because I wouldn't be his dictionary for spelling a word he needed there and then for some forum he was writing in at the time. Assy, yeah. He couldn't be bothered to open another window and look it up, but somehow I'm

The next day I went downtown as planned, but found myself way to early. I forgot to check on the house for the headquarters. I there early and didn't want to go find some place to drink coffee, so I sat on a bench around the side of the building, in front of another building. It was the municipal court. The benches in front (in my corner) were empty. Two older guys dug through the giant ashtray searching for butts. I watched the colored lights in the fountain change colors while I listened to my iPod for a full hour.

Finally the cop shop was open, I went in, paid money, applied for a permit, and got my fingerprints done. The office was run by two older ladies, and the one that worked with me was very nice. I know it sounds wrong to others for me to get a permit and eventually a pistol, but I want to shoot, and like I said, shooting myself is NOT my "out" of choice. A friend of mine has a gun and it was fun just shooting targets on her family's property out in the sticks. It would certainly make me feel more safe when I go out alone, because of so much harassment I've had in the past, including the incident a block away from where I live.

Sure, I'm going through one of the worst depressed and crippling anxiety cycles ever, but I'm not suicidal. I'm depressed about my life and ? I've no reason for the anxiety. Who can explain any of this shit that we didn't bring down on ourselves. I've no fear that I'm going to lose and and do something stupid or wrong. If I can live with a stash of pills that could easily kill me, I can sure as hell handle a gun. I doubt anybody other than another nut would believe that.

I want desperately to be able to continue to go outside, to go anywhere, even if it's only the corner coffee joint, or outside to smoke. I'll be forced out to catch a bus to visit the shrink on Wednesday. Not looking forward to that, but I'm going to try not to think about it until the night before. It'll be hard. Very hard.

Sidewalking

This my first post of an ongoing hell trip that some people call Bipolar. I've been diagnosed with Bipolar Disorder, PTSD, Anxiety, Borderline Personality Disorder, and fuck knows what else. I'm going to try to use this blog as my personal journal for the curiosity and/or amusement to some, but also to join a web ring of similar crazies. I can't stomp out the stigma of mental health disorders, but I can write about it so you can see what it's like to be certifiably nuts.



Today I told myself that I was going to walk almost 10 blocks to get to the drugstore to pick up my prescription, because I didn't want to have to ask the spouse if he could drive me. Also, I thought of a few things I could drag home from the nearby grocery store.

I washed up, brushed up, and completed the chore of my makeup mask. It felt almost as if I'd forgotten how to put on lipstick, mascara, and eyeliner. Come to think of it, the whole makeup process. At one point, I had to stop because I was feeling light-headed and anxiety ridden about my plan to get outside. Holding on to the sink and closing my eyes helped a bit with anxiety and more 'balloon head'. If someone had flicked me on the arm, I would have gone down hard.

Later, with sunglasses on and iPod in hand, I stepped out and locked the door, thinking how flimsy the door was. Then I was out on the sidewalk. I stumbled up the street to the store, which was about 10 blocks away. I had taken 200mg of seroquel and 2mg of clonazepam about 30 minutes earlier. Walking was difficult and hurt my back a bit.

I made it straight-ish up the sidewalk to the drug store. Walking was difficult and awkward, and I sort of tripped up at times. The only real walking I've done lately is walking a few miles on a treadmill. After staring at the variety of facial moisturizers for about 10 minutes or so, I was dizzy again and just sat on the floor, pretending to be checking out the bottom and lower shelves. No one was staring, at least from what I could tell.

I walked out of there with a few things, then found myself outside again, a little disoriented. And for some reason, I thought the alarm was going to go off as I walked out the door. There was the possibility that I could have been holding something and walked out of the store with it, unknowingly. It's happened before. But no buzzes or bells, so I crossed the street and went into the grocery store. Luckily, I knew exactly where the stuff I wanted was located in there, so it was almost an in and out trip.

Walking home was more difficult as the seroquel really started to kick in and my head was feeling like a balloon, my body a puppet on strings. It was a successful trip out, and all I wanted was to rip my clothes off and stand in front of the fan. Fuck it was rough, and I feel a bit traumatised by the whole thing. I was just glad to be back at home, alone in my cage again.