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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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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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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Bucket Lists

I have never truly understood the point of bucket lists. To me, they are the last vestiges of a life lived unfulfilled, a last chance dash to do all the shit before you die you refused to take the chances to do before it became nearly too late. Once, they were lists of “things to do before I die” utilized by the aged or terminal. Now it seems every teenager not yet out of high school has one.

Don’t get me wrong; I am ALL for setting goals, both attainable and lofty. But this shit is just ridiculous. What became so wrong with just living your fucking life, every day, to the fullest possible for that day? Is that not worthy enough a goal? Hell, the gods know it is about as lofty as one can get!

Let me explain why I have no bucket list…

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