memories in the key of FU

Dear Doc,

I fell asleep in my chair, again. I know sleep is a thing with you, but I just can’t hack it all the time. Sleep is a thing with me, too, you see.

I took your ‘nightmare’ pills night before last, and I’m pretty sure they almost killed me. I’ve never felt like that before. They don’t work, anyway, and I was just giving them a last shot. If they did work, I’d take them, no matter the side effects. I’m tired of living the dead life in my dreams. The more I study certain things, the less certain I become that I’m even dreaming, at all. This is a vast and mysterious world, Doc. You can’t label everything. Sometimes, things you would love to believe are creations of a disturbed mind are not what they seem. Sometimes, those things are real and no pill is going to make them go away. It just won’t. I’d even venture to say that God wants us to see certain things. They remind us of where we came from and what the stakes are. Just a thought…

I’m sounding like my brother, Captain Crazy. He’s really giving Mom Hell lately. He’s still in Austin, though. I’m happy about that, as I am certain that he is a danger to her. But, my brother knows things, Doc. As crazy as he is, he is tuned in to something that is fantastical and hugely present in this world. I’d say he’s given himself over to it; something I’d never do. He is a legacy, though. We all are. The difference between the Captain, me and my other brother, is that my other brother and I won’t give in. It’s a difficult thing to shake. It is the start of all of my misery. Even so, it’s like there is something in my DNA that draws me to it. I don’t have any intention of ending up on the wrong side of Heaven, as it were. I know that, whatever the Big Fantastical may be, Almighty God is stronger.

I’m just talking out of my head right now, I suppose. The hour is late/early, and I feel very…out of sorts. I need a shower, but I swore that, the next shower I took, would be in my newly painted and decorated bathroom. That was two days ago. OMG. Why am I stubborn like this? It’s ridiculous. But, I still want to wait. Good grief, I’m disgusting… Been this exact way as long as I can remember. If it’s not what I want, I don’t want it, no matter the cost to myself. The good news is that the bathroom will be done by early afternoon. lol! Sonofabitch…I hate myself. I also hate the number of times I use the word ‘I’ in these posts. How fucking self centered can you be? Seriously.

My cousin, A, is trying to stir up shit in the family. She’s always trying to. She loves drama. She’s the type of person who can’t let things go. I will say that the Big Fantastical did require much more from she and her sister, when we were kids, than anyone else. Nobody could stop it. Nobody. You think that people are all out for the best interest of children and/or those who are less fortunate. That’s a lie. It always has been. People are out for themselves, Doc. They don’t give a solid fuck about anyone else. Especially if it costs them something. And I’m not talking about money. Most anyone will throw money at a problem, but it’s rare when someone is willing to throw themselves on the grenade.

I wonder, at times, if I’m going to pay for the things I’ve done. It feels like I should be paid up. I don’t think anything I’ve done is even in the same ballpark as those who went before me, Doc. But, I’ve not been the best Christian. I try and try, but I can’t let certain things go. I don’t want to die like my grandmother did. On the night He came to get her, she was seeing things dancing around her that terrified her. She knew it was time and she didn’t want to go with them. She was taken, anyway. I don’t want that to happen to me and I’m scared it will because I just can’t stop these stupid things I do. Shit.

I was thinking of my childhood friend, S. I had a dream that she’d died. It was horrible. I miss her so much, as it is. If S has gone, I don’t know what I’d do. Just knowing she’s in the world means so much, Doc. She’s the only one who knows. I gave her up after Bennie tried to sleep with her. She knocked the living shit out of him, and she told me what happened. I gave her up because the situation was so uncomfortable and I was pregnant with our oldest son then. I gave up everything for Bennie. Every fucking thing that ever meant a thing to me. I still feel him looking over my shoulder, as though he knows any more about life than I do. I am starting to fucking hate him, Doc. Maybe I’m through grieving and I can look at him as he was, again. I don’t know. Fuck him. In the neck in the pouring fucking rain. That’s what. I feel like taking that picture off the wall and using it for target practice. I should’ve used him for target practice when he was alive. So he could understand what he did. Just to show him, plainly, how he made me feel. He’s only the second person I’ve ever really considered killing in my entire life. The first was my grandmother. I wanted to cut her throat and give her a nice Colombian necktie. Yes, Doc. I did. And, had I, I’d have been out of kid prison in plenty of time to have a great life. Only, I’d live knowing I finally stood up to her in a real fucking way.

You know that’s the reason my mother and I are mother and daughter again, right, Doc? My grandmother was so afraid I was going to kill her that she kept calling my mother to tell her to ‘do something with her daughter’. Oh, sure…take me from my mother, but give me back when you think your life’s in danger. Please…give me a break. If I’d ever wanted to kill that bitch, it would’ve been done with a quickness. I hated her then, I hate her now.

My mother. There’s a subject I’m conflicted about. She’s now my best friend and I love her more than anything. But, the other side of that coin is that I’m starting to believe that I wasn’t ‘taken’ as much as I was ‘given’. And I think there was a reason for it. If I explained it all, you’d have me put away, Doc, so I’ll save the dirty parts. Suffice to say that this whole expedition into my psyche has got me seriously shaken, as I told you before. It’s like the web my ceiling spider made. It’s gotten very large, and I do enjoy watching it go about its business of living up there, far away from me. However, there are times when it looks as though the whole thing is about to fall down, taking my spider with it. That’s exactly how I feel inside since I met you. I feel like, one more revalation, and I’m fucked for life. I thouroughly understand why you don’t want to ‘put me through’ an intense recall situation. You think I’ll implode, don’t you? Well, Doc, it’s already happening, but I think I can control it, as it stands. Any more, and I’m honestly not sure. I’m already barely here. I haven’t been fully present in this life since I was a child, whatever the Hell that is.

I am sure there’s a reason…a purpose…for everything I’ve lived through, but I just can’t figure out what it is. I am grateful that I made it, because so many others don’t. I worry about them. So many people in this world who truly do have it worse than me, and always have. I wish I could make it better for all of them. I feel so guilty for ending up with a decent life when they are still struggling so. It breaks my heart into a million pieces. But you can’t fix things for everyone. You just can’t, Doc. I’ve tried, during the course of my life, to fix things for a lot of different people. In the end, it was always a waste of time and money. Once the Big Fantastical turns its attention to someone, nobody can help them. Goddamnit. It just make me want to scream! The evil in this world never takes a break. Not even for a second.

I’d better go, Doc. I’m sorry for rambling. I just have so much to say, yet I have nothing of real consequence to discuss. I don’t know how to explain it. I ramble on and on lately, like one of those old ladies who talk to themselves. OMG…I’m the white Miss Mary. That’s about right. I wonder what happened to her…Last I saw her, she was yelling at her invisible invisible and I was afraid to stop and give her a ride. She looked beautiful, as always, though. I love how Miss Mary dressed. You should see her, Doc. Always in her Sunday best. I’m now sure you’d appreciate it. I know you’re a Southern man, but you are polluted by higher education and that often leads to a certain blindness, I’ve found. But, if you could see her, you would see a crazy lady. You’d also see the most beautiful lady you ever saw. You’d see the finest clothes and the most perfect makeup and hair and nails and you’d wonder at this vision. Then, she’d start yelling at you and you’d zero right back in on reality. Miss Mary is a roller coaster, that’s for sure, and she takes you along for a ride, if you stop rushing long enough. She’ll also backhand the shit out of you while you’re driving, but that’s a story for another time…

Happy Saturday, Doc 🙂

…5% tint so you can’t see up in my window…la la la…

Dear Doc,

I don’t feel so good today. Well, this evening…I’ve been crying all day. I just can’t figure out how to forgive Bennie. So much went on and it’s like this landslide just starts pushing me down, sometimes. I know he wasn’t the start of my pain, but he was the end of it. The bitter endless.

I’m getting my environment how I like it. Maybe that’s what all this is about. The house is starting to look like MY house…the way our home looked before Bennie stopped loving me. I’m so pissed at him for talking to that bitch, Jenny, right before he died. I mean RIGHT before! Why did he do that? Telling her he couldn’t leave me because he didn’t want me to have one square inch of this land? OMG! After thirty years, I asked for one acre to put a fucking trailer on. A TRAILER. I’m just starting to get these lil flashbacks that make what Jenny said to me after he died make sense. That bitch. I wish I could talk to her ass now, but she’s got me blocked nine ways to Sunday. Jay cleaned up his dad’s phone before I saw it, so there’s no telling what was on it that I didn’t see. I guess all this fucking nesting is opening old wounds. I don’t know. But I love it. My lil living room is so chill. It’s mismatched, but it matches, you know? Like me. I hope that taking this action will shake something loose.

Listening to Fat Pat. I love the SUC. It’s a shame what happened to most of em. Ok…starting to ramble. Im working on that lately. I just constantly talk, I don’t know why, since I have nothing to say.

Oh, shit…this dude pulled up in our yard a few minutes ago, and I called my son because I thought it might be him, coming or going. Anyway, it wasn’t my son, just a man looking for an adress. He asked if he could use our phone and Jay told him ‘No.’ I feel terrible. This is a very dark and scary place to be lost, but you can’t take chances these days. I’m sure that he wasn’t happy to encounter a big ass redneck. But, he seemed very nice. So did Ted Bundy. My son, unlike me, is not willing to bet on the kindness of strangers. I understand why, though. It just pisses me off that this society has finally made us into the kind of people who won’t lend a stranger a phone to make a call.

I guess I need to meditate. I haven’t even tried the EMDR, or whatever that thing is. I can’t think of any positive affirmations. I thought I’d write a hypno script for myself. I used to write them for men with erectile dysfunction and I was very good at it. Yes, I even got good feedback. I stopped all of that when Memnoch came for me. That crazy bastard. I wish I hadn’t wasted four years on ‘winning’ his stupid game. Whatever. Shit. I’m just discombobulated this evening.

I guess I’ll go. I have some things I’d like to finish before bed. I’m very happy about my home. I guess they’d call it boho…the style. But, miss matched has always been my style. Things that look too perfect scare the shit outta me.

Peace out, Doc!


Dear Doc,

It’s almost 4pm. I’m just at this weird baseline leveled out place. I’m assuming that this is actually the goal you were talking about. That concerns me because I can’t see myself living with this state of mind for any extended period of time. This is the worst. I feel almost nothing. No up…no down…nothing. Surely, you cannot imagine this to be a better state than I was in. Feeling horrible is more preferable than feeling nothing, Doc.

I’ve given much thought to the subject of normalcy lately. I find it disturbing, to be honest with you. I’ve always considered myself to be fairly normal, but with a lil spice added. I’ve been called ‘eccentric’ and ‘weird’ my entire life. That never bothered me as much as this ‘normal’ thing is bothering me now. Eccentric and weird people have occassional flashes of genius. True, they are often followed by gut wrenching depression or mania, but they at least have amazing moments. If this leveled out situation is all there is, I don’t know what keeps the entire population of normals from offing themselves, en masse.

I don’t know what I expected. I know I did need your help and you’ve given it with grace and kindness. The very last thing that I want is to seem ungrateful. I’m not. However, I don’t think that this is a ‘fix’ that I can live with.


this…that…the other

Dear Doc,

I hired my son to help me improve my surroundings for the next two months. We started inside, moving furniture and unpacking all the things I’ve ordered in the last year for the house. It’s coming along very nicely.

This is the first I’ve cared about my home in a very long time. Until now, the only requirement was that it not be filthy. It was very cluttered, but I did keep the kitchen and bathroom clean. I think that’s because my grandma pounded it into me that you have to always have a clean kitchen and bath. So…that’s that. But, everything else was basically where we left it when we moved in. We lost everything before moving here. They even took my fucking Hummer, and it was almost paid for. I miss P. Diddy. That was his name. He was big and black. But, I digress…

The thing is, losing all of your material possessions and effectively bringing your net worth to $0 really sucks. It just takes something out of you. For me, I grew up at $0, since Dad spent all his money, (and he made plenty), on women, boats and booze. So I just landed right back where I started. Bennie had a much more difficult time with it, as he was raised in an upper middle class environment, and was already way off into his addiction when it happened, and it only compounded his problem. I mean, it revved it the fuck up. I hate that he died on that particular note. He felt like a failure, but it wasn’t his fault the oil industry went to Hell in a handbasket under Obama’s regime. He outdid his father by leaps and bounds during his career and I’ll always respect him, and be proud of him, for that. The man knew his shit.

When we moved here, we went from a large 3 bedroom home with formal living and dining rooms, to 685 square feet of converted garage. One tiny bedroom. It’s like an apartment, and I love this lil house, but even though material things aren’t supposed to be important, losing them is quite sobering. And, this is where the blame started going on. I won’t get into why, or what have you, but living here with Bennie was horrible. We couldn’t get away from one another. And, like I said, as long as the kitchen and bath were clean, I didn’t care about the rest of the house. I tried to keep the dust down to a minimum, and that was it.

Frankly, it was difficult to care if the sofa was in the right spot when you spent your days sitting across from a man with an AK by his side meant to intimidate you. It worked! I’ve never been afraid of guns and such, like I’ve written about before. But, there is something very disturbing about someone who, when they are tired of the sound of your voice, will quietly get up, go to the gun cabinet and get a gun, then sit down with it propped up by their chair. After he’d get the gun, if I talked when he didn’t want to hear me, or said the wrong thing, he’d put his hand on it. I spent days staring at that thing, wondering and waiting. I fully expected that he’d get me. I just didn’t know when. I guess that’s what was so bad about it. I mean, someone puts a gun in your face, you know what cards are on the table. Someone sits quietly with a gun, day after day, it’s like waiting on a Jack In The Box to pop up.

Bennie yelled at me all the time. If I said his name he’d answer ‘WHAT!!!’. He never had anything nice to say and, when he was really pissed, he’d scream in my face till he was spitting. Usually, he’d finish with actually spitting in my face to make his point clear. That was disgusting and it made me feel so fucking mad, but helpless, too. I guess that’s why I hate the whole ‘victim’ label. Because, in truth, I was one. And it’s easier to say I put up with something, as though I had a choice, than to say that my husband victimized me with his abusive ways. I’m thankful that it wasn’t nearly as bad as it could’ve been. So many women and children are beaten within an inch of their lives on a daily basis. All I had to worry about was one bullet. That’s not so bad, if you really think about it.

Well, I guess I should get off here. I’m going to get going on my decorating. I feel so free today. I don’t know why. But, it feels good.


Dear Doc,

Today was a fairly good day. Mood seems stabil. I took one Abilify when I woke up, and one a few hours later. I didn’t feel sick, at all, so I think I’ll continue to take them that way.

I missed Bennie today. I know it makes no sense to you for someone to miss someone that was so cruel, but I do miss him. The brain and the heart are very different things. Whatever my brain may say is always overridden by my heart. That’s how I’m made. Although, I do understand why you say I have issues with boundaries. And, yes, perhaps my affect is off, but that’s because I don’t like to hurt people’s feelings. So, I smile. Or, at least, try to look pleasant. And, it’s also true that I can do that while I’m getting spit on and yelled at. So? I don’t know what to tell ya, Doc. I guess I shouldn’t have smiled while I was crying at your office. But, it is what it is.

I can smile through other things, too, Doc. Things I’d never tell a soul about. I’m smiling now because, if I don’t, I’ll fall apart. So, you think that there’s something wrong with misaligned facial expressions? Well, I don’t. Sometimes, they are the only way one can hide. Isn’t hiding behind a smile better than tears? I think so. I just relax and float away behind that smile, Doc. I’m not even there lol! I am not even close to there. Remember that, the next time I’m smiling while I’m crying over something in your office. You can talk. I can hear. But, really…a million miles are between us. And I like it that way. Why would you put a label on that and try to make me fix it? Dissociative? Yeah. So? It works for me. Why do I have to change?????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????

I don’t know how I’m ever going to get what you would consider ‘better’. I didn’t even know much, besides panic, was wrong. While I fit certain criteria, that is because those things help me. All I need is something to make the panic stop so I can work and be around people and all those things. I can’t even date. Nothing. Now, since I have all these labels, it feels like I’m at the foot of a giant mountain and, if I don’t climb it, I’m just fucked for life. Goddamn it. You make me so angry. But, I know you’re just doing your job and trying to help. I guess I’m really angry because I need help. Even so, if you hadn’t have told me, I’d have just felt like a weirdo and that’s it. Now, I feel like a fucking head case. It’s humiliating to me. Even when I’m alone, I feel humiliated when I think of the fucking labels assigned to my disposition. Yes, I know….that’s ridiculous. But it’s the truth.

I should go, Doc. I’m going to try to get up early in the morning. I just feel so…even. I don’t know if I’m comfortable with this. I’m just like everyone else today. That creeps me the Hell out.


abilify…it’s what’s for dinner!

Dear Doc,

Thank you for understanding about the lithium. I do think that an increased dose of Abilify might do the trick. Although, I’m still unclear about what ‘the trick’ is. I remember you saying that ‘happy’ is not the goal; mood stability is the goal. So, does that mean that it’s better to be full-time depressed, or full-time manic? What if I do accidentally stumble across ‘happy’? Will it stay? Can I capture it like one of those lil monsters in that weird game? I’m honestly curious.

The new meds are making me feel as though I have the flu. That’s still a huge improvement on the lithium, which made me feel as though I were going to actually die. But, when I first take this, I can feel my brain reacting to it. Literally. I don’t think it likes it. And I don’t like that feeling.

I keep telling myself that this is all for the best. But, is it? Really? Am I so fucked up that totally blacking out my personality is an improvement? Yes, I realize that I came to you. You did not seek me out. Even so, I never dreamed so much would surface about my life. It just shook me up. And, I still feel shaken. You opened a Pandora’s Box and I cannot seem to close it. I don’t want these memories. That’s the main thing. I wish you could erase them without erasing me. I think I’ve pain a high enough price, now I have to give up myself? Shit. That’s so unfair. What about the others? I want to know they’re burning in Hell now. I do. And I know that’s horrible. But they deserve it.

Do you think I’d be like this, anyway, Doc? You said the bipolar stuff is genetic, and the rest is the result of childhood trauma. Sooooo…really? I wonder. I just can’t help but think that maybe this is just me and I’m supposed to be this way. Except for the crying part. That’s just embarrassing. I have to figure this out for myself. I’ve never been so confused in my life. Now, I’m taking this medicine with no real idea of what is going to come of it. If I could just get over the panic, I’d be fine, Doc. I mean…I just need to get over that. I wish you understood that. I’m sure you do, and I know you mean well. You aren’t a stupid man, so I know that you probably know what’s best. But, still…I feel so…I don’t know. It doesn’t matter, anyway. Never has. Why should this be any different?



































































under the velvet black
i emerge
my mind; amped up
i’m tingling
thoughts soar about my brain
i can feel them, i swear it
i never feel as alive as i do when i’m manic
living suits me; Death can’t touch me

at such times
i crave the red
deep, dark
warm on my tongue
exquisitely satisfying on so many levels
i imagine that i will, one day, stumble upon a new donor
someone who cares
for people
like me
a giving soul
who would much rather give than receive
mmmmm…one day…

the crash always comes before i’m ready
forced back into the Never-be
like a dirty ol dishrag, i’m tossed aside
i feel the light go from my eyes
and a heaviness fills my heart and soul
thoughts that once raced have ceased to be
and every one is a distant memory
true Darkness falls
i am crushed by its weight
days and nights run together in a river of misery
nothing excites
nothing entices
i am in the deep part of the river
and cannot find my depth
i find life unsettling; i welcome Death with open arms








hocus pocus

Dear Doc,

It’s getting late. This has been quite the day. I am not sure what’s going on with me, but it’s not good. I’m out of withdrawals, having taken a couple of Zoloft today. But I’m still very dizzy and nauseous…blurry vision…feeling like I might pass out. I was feeling better earlier and drove to town to get cigarettes and a sandwich. Big mistake. I almost didn’t make it home. I blanked out for about five miles; totally lost any concept of where I was, though I did know I was trying to get home. I finally passed a sign that sort of snapped me out of it and I made it home ok. I’ve also been hallucinating all day. Snakes, dogs, people.

I don’t know what the Hell is going on, but it wasn’t happening before Lithium. I’m not taking it anymore. I’m not going to end up like my brother. All that I needed was a pill for panic. That’s it. Now, I’m diagnosed with all this scary ass shit and my life is upside down in terms of how I see both my past and my future. Seriously. Before Lithium, I saw big black bugs that were obviously not real in any way, and that was only when I was stressed beyond stress. This shit I saw today, while I wasn’t afraid because I knew I was hallucinating, was very realistic. All I could think about what that I’ve fucked up my brain chemistry with ‘just a lil salt’, as you put it, and now I’m on a different road. If you think I’m going to stay on this road…please understand why I cannot.

The above link should help you understand, since I have most of those symptoms. They are almost identical to withdrawal symptoms, except that it is impossible for me to be in withdrawal at this time. I’m really scared, Doc. I’m alone and can’t get anyone on the phone. I live in the fucking boondocks. Yeah…I’m scared. I feel fine for a few minutes, then back to this. I feel like I’m going to vomit. I really needs some help. Shit. I don’t know what to do. But I do know that it’ll be a cold day in Hell’s bloody belly before I take more Lithium.

You must think me a most ungrateful patient. I’m not. I still think you’re kind and smart and compassionate. But you need to listen to me. Don’t tell me that it hasn’t had time to work. If it weren’t interacting with my brain chemistry at this very moment, I wouldn’t be hallucinating. And I wouldn’t be worried about having a seizure. So…I’ll be talking to ya on Monday. I hope you’re not disappointed. I am. I truly believed this was the answer. Trust me, it isn’t.









Dear Doc,

I hope your Saturday is going well. Mine has gotten off to a good start. Compared to yesterday and the ongoing Lithium/Zoloft withdrawal issues, today is a cake walk, thus far.

The ssri withdrawal was horrible throughout the day, yesterday, and long into the night, Around 1a.m., I started having intense waves of nausea, ears began to ring loudly, and I was unsteady on my feet. (I had tried to get up to retrieve my Zoloft), to the point that I felt as though I was going to pass out. I fell back onto the couch and grabbed my handbag to search for Zoloft. Fortunately, there was one in the bottom. I took half of it, and that didn’t stop anything, so I took the rest. Within a half hour, I felt normal again. So, I’m going to go ahead and stay on it, if you don’t mind. Or, if you do mind. I can’t go through that again. I’ve been trying to get off of ssri’s for two decades, to no avail. I wish my original prescribing doctor had let me know this could happen, and how bad it could be. Had they explained, as it was later explained to me in the ER, that the withdrawals are only slightly less intense than heroin withdrawals, I’d never have begun taking them.

As far as my moods are concerned, I’m still cycling throughout the day. I hate the feeling of never quite knowing when the bottom will fall out, again. While my lows are still just as low as they were before, the highs are coming down, a bit. Even so, it is still a great fall from any height to the bottom of my lows. I’ll be normal…my normal…for a few hours; maybe more, maybe less. Then, out of nowhere, comes the tears and this freefall into total darkness. It usually only lasts for about an hour, so I’m thankful for that. Then, I feel myself amping up, topping out at around a seven. That’s much better than I was doing pre-lithium, when I’d top out at about twenty lol!

You know, Doc, I wish I could just stop being so afraid. I know you want to take things slowly, and gradually work though my mood issues and, then, onto panic, but I would love it if you could just give me whatever pill you’re going to and let me try to live a little. I can’t even sit in traffic unless I’m not side by side with the other cars. I want to do so much, and I can’t do it like this. I need to remember to ask you how long does it take to ‘work through’ this and that. And, please do not tell me that it takes as long as it takes.

I’ve been grieving a lot lately. It’s been sixteen months sine Bennie died and set me free. Yet, I still cry because I miss him so much. What’s wrong with me, Doc? Why do I miss someone who despised me? I tell myself that I was just used to him being around. That may be true, but for the last year he lived, if he got mad at me, he’d go get his AK and set it by his chair, never saying a word. He didn’t have to. I wasn’t afraid of dying, but I was concerned about the reasons why he would try to be so threatening. That’s it…the threat. I often wished he’d go ahead and kill me. The only thing I was fearful of was being caught unaware because, if he decided to pick that gun up and shoot me, I wanted him to look me in the face and do it like a man. I didn’t want him to have an easy out. I guess that Time won out on all of that. Here I sit, still missing that monster.

Goodness gracious! Time is flying, Doc. I’d better get going and take care of some chores. Talk soon…

















































a lil bitch & moan before bed…

Dear Doc,

It’s a quiet night here, in Mayberry. I’m so tired. I mean…to the bone. but I can’t get to sleep. My brain hurts from the rushes of thoughts that pound away at it like waves to the shore. I just want it to stop.

I was looking at other blogs here, all written by bipolar people. They all seem to have a real point of view that I lack. I’m not trying to educate anyone. I guess my blog is about what daily life is like when you’re a fucking nut. Even so, I wish I had a tiny bit of what they all have to offer, but I’m all out of creativity and all I want is for this to stop. Yes, I am still indignant. How very perceptive of you…Maybe if I just say, “I’m what I’d call nuts, and that’s ok!”, then I’d be okay with it. Unfortunately, I am exactly what I’d call nuts, were it anyone else, and I am not okay with it. I want a fucking do over and I want it now.

I’ve been through all of this before, but I didn’t know anything was really wrong, except that I was a total failure. I guess that having these labels to put on things makes me feel like I HAVE to face them RIGHT NOW. That’s how I’ve always been. I think I’m going to stop that. I have to, or  I don’t think I’m going to get better. Ever.

You know what, though…I’m learning to take all these time limits off of everything I do. That’s something I’ve always done, but it’s been worse since Bennie died. So, I just stopped. I have a house full of boxes to unload and clothes to put away, but they’ll be there when I wake up. If I ever get to sleep lol I noticed it today, actually. I took a deep breath and relaxed. Then it dawned on me what had just happened. It felt weird. But so good. So, I guess things really aren’t that bad.

I guess I’ll have a couple of smokes and, at least, lie down and get some rest.

Peace out, Boy Scout!  🙂