Tag Archives: anger

Blind Bashing

On Facebook I am a member of several groups dedicated to making jewelry.  Earlier today, in one such group, one of the members posted this photo:  towie mankini photo

I believe this person was attempting to amuse the group, as we could all ‘make fun of’ the men in this photo.  One woman responded that no “real man” would wear this and called the men in this photo some kind of pussies.

The photo features two stars from The Only Way is Essex.  For my purposes, I don’t really know or care about too much else.  Here are two adults – not hurting anyone – being mocked simply for what they wear and/or look like.

Thankfully a moderator of the group took down the photo, but it  has stuck with me how a group of people who spend their time trying to make the world a ‘prettier’ place can attack other humans so viciously simply for what they look like.  They wouldn’t dare speak that way if a fellow member posted a photo of his/her work, so why would they do it to two people they don’t know?

Why are so many people so damn vicious?  Why are we nothing more than starving dogs waiting for a jugular to rip out?  (My apologies to dogs, but they do some very nasty things when abused, as do all animals and most humans.)

I wish I could find more words to describe how this is wrong and how it makes me feel betrayed, but for now, that’s all I’ve got.

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My bipolar is my greatest enemy and my oldest friend, but what exactly is it?

While browsing through my stuffed inbox, I found an email from Psych Central, which eventually, after much link-clicking, led me to this page: http://psychcentral.com/lib/the-two-types-of-bipolar-disorder/000612?all=1

 

I’ve discussed with my psychiatrist how crazy and alone I feel before, and I can’t remember what she told me I have.  According to this page, I have something somewhere between ‘Bipolar 1 Group 5’ and Bipolar Depression.

How exactly do I feel?

Well, it may start with a giggle but turn into a choked sob.  I may laugh hysterically, blowing something that may not even be funny to other people far out of proportion.  (It’s difficult to not laugh and cry simultaneously constantly while living in Oklahoma.)

I find other people depressingly hilarious.  They’re so sad, but they’re so sure.  (Political rant withheld.)

I prefer the inappropriate and vulgar to the pristine.

Right now I am: troubled, excited, anxious, depressed, feeling like I’m worthless but also destined to be famous, feeling useless, pent-up energy coated in exhaustion.  I could fall asleep at any moment, but I’m in pain, so never mind, I can’t.

I’m generally quite paranoid about other people, especially those with whom I must share this state.  I’m terrified of every kind of person, except the kind that is just like me – presumably the scariest of all!  I occasionally entertain thoughts of killing.  I do not enjoy this thoughts, per se, but they cross my mind nonetheless.  I’m terrified of death.  I was convinced that my golden birthday, the 16th, would be my last.  When I woke up after several handfuls of pills were consumed the night before, I realized something had either gone terribly wrong or wonderfully right, or maybe it’s the other way around.  That was not the last time I tried.  I imagine falling – from grace, from a cliff, or into an empty pool.  Since then, I’ve become convinced that the next birthday will be my last, and I’m amazed that I’ve made it so far.

I often toy with the idea of my own mortality.  I occasionally become convinced that I have multiple sclerosis.  My aunt has it, my great uncle died from it, and I’ve experienced almost every recorded symptom of it.  But hey, maybe I’m just crazy.

I was given medication for ADHD, but I had to be prescribed an anti-anxiety medication in addition to it, to level me off.  Now I’m still stuck with Klonnie, while the amphetamines are gone.

I can’t hold a thought, form a sentence, without cringing, grinding my teeth…

My dark thoughts race.

My eyes feel both gluey and unglued.  I have a ton of ‘floaters’ and ‘sparkles’ that remain unexplained.

I’m unbalanced, both when I stand and when I think.

I want to create.  I want to embrace the elusive mania, [a red dragon], but can’t summon a signal.

I don’t even have the patience or attention span to play my favorite video games anymore.

I imagine my hair fanned out, in flames.  I imagine myself at 23, ‘woe is me’, but I’m just not combustible any more.

In person I am quiet, shy, withdrawn, fearful, timid, tearful, when I really just want to scream “FUCK” and run around stealing shit and kicking people.  Oh, those were the days.

Oh, I still get upset in public.  I still fill up on rage, I just seem stuck, filled, unable to release it, unable to summon the dragon, breathe flames and “burninate the countryside”.

I remember things that seem to have far too much significance to me, while forgetting to complete simple, yet important, tasks.

I’ve applied for disability, but unless The Cell’s technology comes to fruition, no one else will ever know what it’s like in here.

I feel so fucking stupid.

Thanks for reading, if you do.