Anxiety Attacks and drowning in the ocean…

It’s funny how, being classified as bipolar, when I get stressed enough, I stim like someone with autism, asbergers, Tourette’s, etc. And yes, I’m spelling shit all sorts of wrong, and, at the moment, I could give two fucks or a shit less about that or grammatical errors. I have been having fairly intense stims somewhere around an hour. For those of you who suffer from any psychological prizes (hey, let’s call it something fun, instead of a disorder!!), you know how utterly motherfucking god damb exhausting they can be. Just…life-draining. And when I stim, I tic like a motherfucker. Scratching, rubbing my fingers, hitting myself, rocking back and forth,openingand closin gmy mouth,s ieltn screams, rapid blinking, rapid eye movement, tapping, sometimes sounds.. I get a nice lovely run of the stim spectrum. LUCKY ME. Thankfully, it’s only when I am incredibly super HOLY FUCKSHIT stressed the motherfuc out. And I have been..

This time of year is always pretty fucking tough on me. Starting at the beginngin of July through about the first week of August. I adopted a son out the day he was born, August 4th, 2004. And starting about a month before, I just………sink. I sink beneathe the waves of.. everything. Sounds, tastes, touches, feels. thoughts, breaths, leaves, colours, life itself. I have to keep busy. God damn, do I have to keep busy. I will cut a fuckin gentire yard with a god damn pair of scissors if that is absolutely all I have I can do to keep busy. Today, I rearranged my entire livibng room. That may not seem like much, but I had to vacuum and spray for spiders, too, because I have apparently gained an infestation of cute cuddly wolf spiders. Absolutely adorable, not lethal to most folks, but their bites suck big bulbous elephant balls. And I don’t like things randomly crawling on my face for me to squash. Yes, this has happened. And these motherfuckers are fast as hell. Look them up. Shoo, spider, you belong outside. Assholes. Anyw ay. This involved moving one 32″? television that is somewhere around 75-100 pounds off a 2′ high stand across the room.. rearranging 2 oversized loveseats and an oversized couch, moving two old-school studio speakers (the 4′ tall heavy as fuck type), the tv stand and putting a 42″? 75″ television back on the fucking stand. Alone. While dodging fucking spiders and keeping the kid busy. Whereupon I also found a tote I forgot about, seeing how it was cleverly disguised as a side table (don’t ask) and I found old birthday cards. And pictures.

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Inconvenient Painful Truths

Yes, readers, if I’ve any left, I am back. And the title of this particular blog could not be more apt had I dreamed it, woken and immediately started clacking away at this worn and near-broken set of keys.

I have many things I need to say, want to say, and none of which are likely to come out with ease, if at all. I have been silent, have hidden prior posts, due to the feelings of someone else. Due to.. stupid reasons of my own choosing. Hell, I don’t even feel like posting this now, but I feel I must. I have several anniversaries of high import approaching, and this time of year is always a very hard one for me. And always one I face alone.

My adopted son will be 10 August 4th. Not a day passes where I don’t think of him, and remember my failures. And also the likelihood of what would have happened to him had he not been adopted out.. I keep hearing “everything for a reason” and “your happiness is right around the corner..” And it’s all bullshit. All of it. I had as much happiness, more, than I’d ever had. I met someone, and had even more. For a while. That did not last. Of course not. It seems in my life, I only get a taste of what I truly want for just long enough to really start thinking maybe, just maybe… NOPE. then it all falls apart.

Then again, August 27th marks 5 years being divorced from an abusive alcoholic misogynistic worthless asshole, so there’s that. And he didn’t manage to kill me, OR our daughter. Hooray!
Aside from that, you’d think I would get used to the disappointment, but I don’t. I never do. And this time, I gave a bit too much. Figures. It comes down to me being a crazy bitch, I suppose. But aren’t we all?

I have learned that love is not a lie; love is a liability.

When you stretch out your arms, close your eyes and jump from that ledge, chances are damn high someone won’t catch you. And that is okay. But when you truly believe, you KNOW this person WILL, and they won’t.. It crushes some very special parts of you that.. Hell, I don’t know if they’ll come back. And I honestly don’t care. What’s gone is gone. And what this experience has left me with is.. little.

"You've lost your muchness."

“You’ve lost your muchness.”

Yes, I have, Hatter. But I have come away with a soul that is slowly leaking away at the seams I can no longer sew together quickly enough. I cried out for help for once, and was answered “how”. I do not know. I only know I am mad, to the core, and sinking deeper in to a mire I’ve no strength nor motivation to climb from, because I gave my muchness to someone who did not care for it as he should have, because he was too worried about his past repeating itself, as opposed to happy I wasn’t his past. Only, now I am.. but his past didn’t repeat. I am a new past.

This is why I don’t ask for help. When the person people come to for help, to lean on, needs help, suddenly everyone disappears. Suddenly, no one knows what to do. And gods forbid they just sit, shut the fuck up, and listen. And since I would like them to just sit, not interrupting, shut the fuck up and listen, I have communication issues..no matter how many times I’ve done JUST that for them.

And this is why the strongest motherfuckers so rarely say a word, just end up found with a bullet through their heads. Because even when they said a fucking word, others just kept right on talking.

No, I’m not going to kill myself. I’m not a pussy. And no matter how hard or harsh shit gets, I’ve got shit to do. But seriously, motherfuckers, sometimes it’s YOUR turn to sit down, shut the fuck up, and listen. You’re not the only motherfucker who sometimes just needs a motherfucker to care, to listen.

On this, my deceased father’s birthday, an update of importance, if only to me.

I have been conspicuously silent the past few months, and for good reason. Things in my life have, at points, come to a screeching halt, and at other times they have sped so far out of control, I wanted to yell LETMEOFFLETMEOFFLETMEOFF. This has definitely been a year of upheavals and trials, for sure.. though it has also been a year for good revelations, smiles, laughter, love, dancing, blah blah all that sweet shit.

Where to start? not the beginning this time, Dear Reader. Not this time.

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The captain of your ship of dreams..

Y’know what I’m tired of hearing, seeing people post, reading, whatever, about relationships?
“It’ll work out some day. It HAS to, right?”
Well, I’ve got your answer, darlings.
No.
NO, it does not have to work out some day. This isn’t Disney, you’re not a god damn princess, and the bottom line is NO, it will not work out for everyone.

Let me break it down for you, okay?

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Manifesto with a Death Warrant

As the fifth anniversary of my father’s death quickly approaches (it is less than a month away), many things from the past 5.5 years are popping in to my head with nearly alarming regularity. Not all of them are bad, but they have given me pause for several reasons.. Be they times of great loss or great gain.

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Dear Karma…

Dear Karma – We need to talk.

You know a few years ago, I went through some shit that would be considered pretty damn bad by most Americans’ standards. I say American, because, well, let’s face it: Africa and anywhere oil is located.

Since then, I’ve had bouts of time where things were not going precisely wrong, but they were most definitely not right. I suppose one could say I’ve been on a rocking even keel – overall, of course – for 5.5 years. Which is not to be scoffed at, do not get me wrong. Better to have an even keel than slowly going under. But then again, sometimes keeping that even keel for an extended period of time is a slower sinking process than one could imagine, until one experiences it. Allow me to explain..

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