One of those days #Fuckitol #BiPolarRollercoster

I should be in the hospital. I know it. My mother is predictably suggesting it without saying it. I've been a super bitch for a while now. My meds are off, I'll figure it out. I always do. But what if I can't? What if that's the whole point. I'm not going to be over all of this. EVER.

Being Bi Polar doesn't go away.

One moment I'm happy and energetic and the next my body feels like it's falling apart. Everything hurts and I don't give  a flying fuck about anything that isn't about me. That last part is mostly true most of the time. Actually, scratch that all of the time.

I can't help it if I am my favorite subject. It's not my fault if what I hear from someone can be reasoned by me to be something that I can talk about with experience. I'm sorry for not being able to make you happy. I'm miserable so what do you expect?

There's no pot of gold at the end of the rainbow, there's just us chasing it on a wing And a prayer. Sure its supposed to be about the adventure.... It's supposed to be about the journey not the destination. But I'm so sick of being on this endless road to nowhere ...

32 years old, four books published. I should be ecstatic about it. A book in the second round of the Amazon Breakthrough Novel Award Contest.... all GOOD things.... so why then do I wanna crawl into a deep dark ditch and pull the earth in in top?

My Dad is dying. Realistically he's been dead for 11 years, he just hasn't had the sense to actually lay down and die. The man was once my world and the epitome of what I thought men should be like. TALL, STRONG, HANDSOME. KIND, LOVING, someone who provides without smothering.  My Dad was a great man. Worked 16 hours a day, and still would pack up the car on a Saturday morning to go out to Vermont for Maple Syrup, just to have pancakes on Sunday morning.

Now... He's here, but his quality of life is moot at his own choice. He Chooses not to get out of bed. Chooses not to shower, shave, leave his room. That's a good enough reason to be angry, depressed, or just down right ready to snap.

Then there's the rest of my home life. Those who know me know the crazy that is home. If we have cash, it's awesome. But once the money dwindles.... The claws come out and it's scream and bitch time. I give and get in return don't get me wrong. My Cunty nature is well inherited, and my Mother is the master. I say this with all the love and affection I have. Which contrary to  Most Popular Belief is quite a lot. I can call her whatever I want, cuz she's mine. But I'll knock your fucking teeth in if you say it your self.

Oh I'm not having a pity party. I'm not wired that way. I don't give a shit if people get it. That's the gist of things. I've been taking a bottle of Fuckitol each day just to get through. To push every day. I had someone recently say that we appreciate things more if we have to work for them. That those that have things handed to them don't appreciate. Well it would be nice to have the chance to see it from the Have's side for a change.

 I'm going away in May. 9 days of nothing but good friends, new places and DRINKS!! Lots of them. Nothing is going to stop that. It's all paid for. I'VE FUCKING EARNED IT!!!

As excited about that as I am I'm still not nearly as excited as I Should be. I have a friend that I let ramble on, so that I don't have to think about my own shit. I'm thankful for that. I like the distraction. I need the distraction.

Up down turn around pick a bale of cotton.... Oh my Lordy pick a bale a day... Yes Ma'm I'll do as you say....

This is how I feel about my world today.... Guess I'll go and bake a cake that I won't get to eat.