Terminology

The co-worker is having an issue with the muckity-mucks not using the correct terminology. I suggested making a picture book dictionary. He's not willing to allow that because "well if this picture doesn't look exactly like theirs, then its wrong." I say he's giving them more issues than they have. Take an apple. How many apples do you know of? Think of all the colors and shapes. But they're all still an apple. So if I make something with the terms the muckity-mucks are misusing, it's still what the picture is even if it's not identical. He gets so wound tight and nothing gets in. And I'm the one with the mental disease.

Then there is his hand holding. *sigh* If they have climbed the corporate ladder, they have achieved some tangible education. Which means, if you offer them a set of steps to do something, they should be able to follow those steps and complete the task. And failing to do so, does not automatically become my department's fault. Our boss and I won't tolerate the whining that comes with the "but can't you do it for me?" Perhaps it's because we're both mothers and he hasn't any children. Maybe that gives us an edge he lacks. But if Monkey needed to learn to tie her shoes so I wouldn't be doing it for her in college, then the adults in upper management can learn to enter their own password in the company smartphones.

This is not a week we want to poke this bear. I will fight back. And I will win, by whatever means necessary.

This Is Hard

*sigh* I don't know how to do this. Today... well yesterday was much better. I'm tired. The day just drags on. Tomorrow I'm supposed to go to work and I will have to act like this weekend didn't happen. The racing thoughts are back. I get the emotions are all always there. I just hate that I get SO angry and I have nothing I can do about that energy. I ... I feel like an idiot. A huge flaming idiot. I feel like every muscle in my body has completely knotted up. The amount of shaking I did in the last two days, frankly I'm surprised I was able to write anything and didn't fall off my chair. Now I have a kink in my shoulder making me not want to move. The shaking has stopped for now. I'm not sure when the tears will. Which means my eyes will still burn.

*sigh*

Well, Shit

This the worst I think I've been since being diagnosed. I'm nauseous. I feel hollow. My heart hurts. My head hurts. I don't want to kill myself but sure as shit don't want to be alive. I know what I have but am blinded by what I don't. I hate this disease. It takes over and makes me awful. Yes. I've been taking my medication. No I haven't called my therapist. I'm trying to see about a new one. Yes I left her a message. I'm hoping she calls back soon. I don't know if she handles this. I have an appointment with my medication therapist next Friday. Something needs to change. I'm so exhausted by this. I want to curl up and die. Putting Monkey through this is so unfair to her. It's so unfair that I did everything right and I'm still going trough this. And explaining to someone that yes, I know what's real, the problem is all this feels real too. That I'm going to be alone forever. No one wants me. I don't want me, why would anyone else? I was truly happy for a brief moment but I don't get to keep it. How do I know I will find that again? I need to KNOW. Why is it wrong to want what everyone else has? Why can't I have that too? Why can't he drop everything to help me right now? We've seen when I'm good I can handle things. We know this. I stepped aside when she needed his help. I said I'd wait and do what I could to help. But when it's me, I'm told not to be selfish and manipulative. How is a fucking disease I was most likely born with manipulative of anyone other than me??? It's so hard not to just scream at the top of my lungs until I have no voice. Or break everything I can get my hands on. "Hulk smash!" Maybe that's what was wrong with Bruce Banner. I want to cut my heart out, toss it in the trash and just walk away. I want to vomit so much I finally just pass out. Or maybe I should just dope up until I'm a zombie (hello Prozac). If I can't feel it won't hurt. There's no cat for me to get at the end of this. Marti would be jealous. For how much this hurts I'm angry I won't have any external injuries to show for this. I want to look as beat up as I feel. And I want to be able to say, "You should see the other guy.". A writer I am not. Paragraphs that make sense don't flow from me. Stream of consciousness makes sense to me if I read it months later or even if it's someone else's consciousness. Puffy eyes. Tear stains on my cheeks. Exhaustion in my face. Pants that will fall off me soon. This is the face of a crash victim of bi polar. Not a scar or bruise to be seen, but I wish there was. I'd have war wounds from my battles. Claw marks that run across my body. Get mauled by a tiger, everyone can tell. Get mauled by bi polar, you're the only one. Get over it. Get back to work, to life. Snap out of it. You're being a baby. Believe me. I would do just that if I could.

The problem is I can't.

Warning: Stream of Consciousness

*This hasn't been edited. I just wrote what popped onto my head.

How am I supposed to maintain a relationship when I can't even trust the thoughts in my head? He tells me things. And I know them to be true. I *know* it. But then my mind twists it all into something ugly and mean. I lash out because I can't hold it in anymore. I say things I don't want to say because they're mean and spiteful. But I'm hurting and I want it to stop. So I pretend I don't care. Even though we all know I care more than I should. I think if I'm alone no one can hurt me. No one can disappoint me. He doesn't do it on purpose. The world around us happens whether I'm ready for it or not. I hide in my space. He deals with the world. But I want him with me. I'm tired of fighting myself alone. Battling thoughts that aren't even my own. But they're in my head, don't they belong to me? If they do then I'm a mean, hateful person. I don't want to be that. Make them stop. I'm not like that. I don't want to be that girl. No, I don't care if everyone doesn't like me. But the people I like/love... I want them to like/love me back. But who wants to love someone who snaps for no reason Or is irrationally angry over something minor. Or gets so out of control she doesn't recognize herself anymore. And doesn't even like herself. I promised a long time ago not to hurt myself. But the broken part of me doesn't care what I promised people even yesterday. It just hurts until I want the hurt physical. So it's something I can fix. Unfortunately stitches won't fix this. I don't know what will. This is something I can't fix on my own and I have a very hard time asking for help when I know I will always need it. Is it even fair of me to ask for him to help me?

Count Your Blessings (Instead Of Sheep)

When I'm worried and I can't sleep
I count my blessings instead of sheep
And I fall asleep counting my blessings
When my bankroll is getting small
I think of when I had none at all
And I fall asleep counting my blessings

I think about a nursery and I picture curly heads
And one by one I count them as they slumber in their beds
If you're worried and you can't sleep
Just count your blessings instead of sheep
And you'll fall asleep counting your blessings

I think about a nursery and I picture curly heads
And one by one I count them as they slumber in their beds
If you're worried and you can't sleep
Just count your blessings instead of sheep
And you'll fall asleep counting your blessings

-Cole Porter

I'm having a major downswing. Yes, I'm taking my medication. No, I haven't missed a dose. I don't remember much about the manic period. I think I was angry about a lot. It's right before Christmas, usually. This year is particularly bad. One day, I'll be able to spend New Year's Eve without being in tears... Right, the blessings.

My daughter. Without her I would not be alive. My friends. Any hope of sanity would be completely gone without them. My love. I can live without you, I just don't want to. My health. Even though I'm a nutcase I'm a healthy nutcase. My job. I hate it but I have one. My house. It's never been home for me but it's more than others have. (Uh oh, resolution?) My family. You're fucked up, it's genetic. But your mine and I still kinda love you.