Rotten To The Core

So apparently I'm spoiled. Yea I know I was just as shocked too. I had always thought spoiled meant this:

What? You did too? Well you're wrong. That is NOT what spoiled is. Spoiled is buying a $200 appliance from the store, bringing it home, unpacking it, and finding out that it DOESN'T FUCKING WORK, and then saying to your husband, "can we take it back and exchange it because it doesn't work properly?"

Yes THAT is spoiled. Oh and want to know what else is spoiled? When eating certain foods make you puke your guts out for hours and days on end so you don't eat those foods. You instead eat foods that don't make you puke your innards outwards. That is also spoiled. 

You're welcome for the educational lessons. I accept donations for this exceptional service. Email me for paypal details.

Oh and blogger? You and Facebook can kiss my ass with all your fucked up changes. I don't like the new blogger thing and I don't like the new Facebook and I realize neither of you care what I like but I'm spoiled so I'm fucking telling you anyways. Suck on them donkey balls. 

Can You Hear Me Now

I'm loud. I don't mean to be.I do have an inside voice. Majority of the time people have to ask me to repeat myself because I speak so lowly. But sometimes when I feel safe and free, when I'm emotional, even happy emotional, I get loud. I don't mean to. I don't know why that is. Jigger  thinks I'm "yelling". I try to watch it. To always be aware of how many decibels are exiting my mouth at any given moment, but that's exhausting. Like trying to walk a tight rope made out of egg shells. Sometimes I forget. 

To be aware. 

And the decibels leak out and Jigger thinks I'm yelling at him and he gets angry and "yells" back. Which causes me to actually start yelling. I don't know why this happens. It's another one of those life isn't fair moments. Where I pout and whine and stomp off to the corner wondering why it is I'm being forced into the world's concepts of right and wrong. So what if I leak more decibels than you. Why shouldn't I be allowed to? In my own home? In my own room? Why am I monitored within the confines of my own four walls? 

Because that's life. So I'm aware and I count the decibels because Jigger puts up with all of the temper tantrums. So for him I count the decibels.

Free the Birds

There are days. Like today. When I want to do nothing more than to give the world the double bird salute and say FUCK OFF. Then hop in my convertible and ride into the sunset with my unbrushed hair blowing in the wind. I wouldn't even look in the mirror to see if the world's mouth was hanging open in shock. Fuck you world. 

What's even funnier? Is that I COULD do this. Fuck the world and its inhabitants. Let 'em rot and die. Fuck 'em, but I don't. Want to know why? So do I. Why do I care for people? People who don't give a furry rat's ass about me. Not really. People who hurt me day in and day out. People who only remember me on the first of the month when it's time to hand out money. So why do I fucking care? 

Because I don't want to be like them. That's why and I hate myself for it because a part of me DOES want to be like them. To be able to use and abuse others without a second thought. To not give a fuck and just take and take and take. But I don't. And I won't. And I never will be that person, but I want to be. Ooooh do I WANT to be. I pray that someday I will be that person and I wait for that day when I can walk away and say 

But instead I just take it. I take all of it. Heave on top of the pile that already sits on me. Why can't I just be like others? Why can't I just take? If it's the last thing I ever do, I'll figure it out and when I do.Fuck 'em all to hell. 

Lost in Translation

I'm often misunderstood. Not in the teen angsty kinda way, but in the "I think I'm displaying one emotion but people interpret it as another". As if I hear myself speaking English but everyone else hears Chinese. This happened today and I must say I am extremely proud of myself for how I handled the situation. My current project has offered me insights into myself and I've come to realize things about how and why I react the way I do. I still have the reflex within to react but I'm better able to catch and keep it from coming into existance than I was before. 

Today Jigger asked me a question. If a certain something was possible to do in our current project. Because I'm a much more visual person and have difficulty explaining why things do or don't work, I decided to just design what he was asking so he could see why it wouldn't work. At the end of it, I did say "if you don't like the current design, just let me know and I'll change it". I even giggled a little as I said because the design is a bit goofy and doesn't 100% fit our theme but I liked it so I put it in. However I realize I'm not the only person working on this and if it was really just out of place I was more than happy to put something else. It was a moment I was in it. 

But apparently the "joking" I thought I was portraying came across as "bitch slapping pissed". Jigger got angry with me because he thought I was "angry" at him for asking me why I did what I did. This isn't the first time this has happened. 99% of the time when I'm joking/teasing/being playful I'm taken to be very serious. I cannot joke with anyone or tease them because my appearance and the way I sound is interpreted as me being angry. Which is odd for me because I feel as if I'm being playful. In my ears I sound as if I'm being playful, but apparently it doesn't come across that way. My expression for "playful" and "so pissed I could cut your head off and dig out your brains with a spoon" are exactly the same. I don't know how to change this. 

I admit I'm not a giggly bubbly airheaded hair flipping "oh my gawd" type female. I get that I'm more Pink than Snookie and I like that.  I like being strong. It's who I am. I don't want to change who I am fundamentally but at the same time I also don't want to start fights with people because no one gets what I mean. I'm unsure how to approach this or what to do about it. 

Is it my fault or does the other person bear some responsibility? I mean should they not at least "ask" if I'm pissed instead of assuming? I don't know. I'm still learning how to be human. I know I have trained people to understand 99.9% of the time I am pissed so this new found playfulness is strange for them. It's not something they're use to. I get that, but when does it stop being 100% my responsibility to ensure everyone around me understands I'm not about to fucking rip their heads off?! 

So today when Jigger flew into a rage, angry because he thought I was angry I instead got up and kissed him. Before I would have picked up the nearest object to me and began throwing until I couldn't lift my arms or until I was dripping with blood. On certain occasions I've even managed to do both simultaneously. But not this time. Even the rage I suppressed inside was not at atomic levels the way it would have been before. Somehow I've just come to a point where it's not worth it anymore to be right. Fuck it. I just don't want to fight anymore. No more yelling. No more throwing. No more bleeding. I'm tired. I'm done. Now how do I convince others of this? 

I have no fucking clue.

It Won't Last Forever

I HATE when people say this. It pisses me off to no ends. Because you know what? I'm fucking BIPOLAR. Not just normal catherine zeta jones take a weekend off and everything's all fine again bipolar. I'm more of the Sybil boil your bunny on the stove bipolar. And you know what this will LAST FOREVER. Bipolar is not curable. It is managable to a certain extent if the person WANTS to manage it and I do want to manage it and I manage it and my life actually quite a lot better than most fucking sane people do. 

I work my ass off. I support my family. I put up with shit that most normal sane people would not be able to put up with, but I deal with it. And fuck you  and everyone like you for saying such  idiotic comments when you don't know jack shit about me and I never asked you for your opinions. 

When you live inside of a bipolar mind, one of the best things to do to get the shit out of your brain is to vomit it out and I do that here on my blog. I vomit out the shit so that I can function and manage. I put all of the shit here instead of in my life. I say here the things I can't/shouldn't say because I"m in a moment of no control so I say them here and get it out so that I can think clearly and act with a clear mind. So that I can make reasonable clear headed decisions instead of fucked up decisions that are totally NOT in my best interest. I don't come here to hear your pathetic attempts at "advice" because obviously you know jack shit about what it's like to live with a brain that makes no fucking sense half of the time.

I Want To

Scream and Rage and HATE and Yell and Hit and Cuss and Beat and Destroy and Rip and Tear and Demolish and ERASE and Deny and Annihilate 

But instead I am 

Silent and Invisible and Resentful and Hurt and Angry and Still 

I want to rip the pounding from my chest, to tear it from my body and throw it on the ground. I want to stomp on it and make it feel pain the way I feel pain but instead 

I type these few letters and syllables as silent tears no one will ever see slide down and make the floor wet and slowly stuff the pounding back down from whence it came to hide it from the world and from myself...

Yep I Said It Outloud so the Universe Can Hear

I wish I'd never had kids. I love my kids. I would cut myself to pieces for them, but I wish I'd never had them. I wasn't strong enough or good enough to fight the rot in my brain and I failed them in so many ways. They have no idea what today is. No fucking clue and that is my fault. I didn't fight. I gave in. I surrender to the decay and the rot and fell into the abyss and now they're left to swim through reality totally unaware of the truth. Totally blind to reality and it's all my fault.

I wish I could turn back time and know that birth control pills do NOT work on me. I wish I could go back and say no when he asked "will you marry me". I wish so many things. None of which will come true and today of all days I hurt the most because they have no idea what today is. They're off enjoying life and the world and they have no idea what they're missing. And it's my fault for not being there to show them.

It's my fault.

Not June Cleaver

Tomorrow is my anniversary. Jigger and I will have been married four years. It doesn't seem that long and at times it seems even longer. In true us fashion, we had a major argument today. Seems only fitting since it's been about two weeks since the last one. We were overdue. Today's argument, like most of our arguments, started over food and the fact that I don't eat it. I know how hurt and upset it makes Jigger and even as he was sitting there I could see the pain and hurt in his eyes, but I could NOT put the food in my mouth. Even though a part of me wanted to for him. A part of me wanted nothing more than to just be normal and able to pick up the food and eat it like normal people do, but I'm not normal. The normal brain cells are way outnumbered by the crazy ones and like usual the crazy ones overruled in this case and the food sat in front of me untouched. 

I hate being this way. I hate being unable to just be like everyone else seems to be able to do. I hate causing Jigger pain. I hate that I'm so fucked up and broken. During these times, I so wish everything would end. Don't take that the wrong way I'm not suicidal and don't have suicidal thoughts, but there is  not a day that goes by that I don't wish it were my last. There is not a breath that escapes my body where I don't pray that another doesn't follow it. I so wish for this existence to end. I'm so very tired.

Dear Penis Owners

 

This is an open letter to those who have given me unsolicited "advice" (aka telling me what the fuck to do) over the last few days. While I appreciate having a penis is a prerequisite to having an opinion where you're from, it is not however necessary in my world. In my world, a non penis owner has as much right to not only have an opinion, but to *gasp* make decisions based upon what they think is right. Non penis owners do not have to follow the advice (aka orders) of penis owners. In my world, having a penis, makes you  a dick. It does not make you intelligent or know it all. While I appreciate your interference in my life and giving me advice I did not ask you for, I'd like to request you keep your nose and penis out of my life in the future. 

I realize this comes as a shock to you because in the past I usually bended to your will, and now I'm not. I believe in my ability to decide what is best for ME and I know that your decisions are based on what is best for YOU. Maybe that makes me selfish, but I really don't give a fuck because it's my world and non penis owners make the rules. So suck on that.

Fraudulent Friendlies

Pet peeves. I have many. My biggest? Fakeness. Pretense. Specifically pretending to be interested and/or concerned about my well being when in reality you're not. I am not as stupid as I pretend to be. I see more than people realize. Call it a gift. A sixth sense. Whatever, but I'm not stupid. I don't understand why people do this. It makes no sense to me. If you want something from me, then just say that. Don't pretend to be my friend. Don't pretend to be concerned about me when you're not. Just be honest. Truthful Say what you want but don't act like you care for me when we both know you don't. 

Fucktarded people! Everything is just getting on my nerves lately. Little things that I usually could over look seem inflated a thousand times over. I just want to run. Far. Run. I want to be ok. Now. Not a year from now. Not two years from now, but NOW. I'm ready to LIVE not just SURVIVE but I can't. I'm still in survival mode. I can't come out of it. Not now. If I did then I would lose everything. I'm still not out. I still have a long way to go before I'm out, but I'm ready to be out NOW. I want out NOW.

Nothing Else To Do

I've been crying for 48 hrs and it's starting to piss me off. It just won't stop. The pain. The ache inside it's too much. I have no idea what I'm going to do. No idea where to run. Where I can just disappear into nothingness. But yet the tears don't stop falling. Everyone is looking to me to fix it. To make it better. Everyone depends on me but I'm so weak. So unstable. I can't bear their weight. They are hungry but there is no food.No money. 

What am I suppose to do? Apparently cry because that is all I seem to be capable of doing for the last two fucking days. The more I try to stop them from coming the more they fall. I don't know what to do. Who to trust anymore. Every time I trust someone they use me, toss me aside. Break me in ways I didn't know I could be broken and yet I stupidly trust again. When will I learn? I can trust no one. If they breathe, they are untrustable. I am alone.

Push then Pull

I am the first to admit being around me, being my friend, living with me is NOT an easy thing to do. Every day the rules of being near me change. For no apparent reason, and you may not even know they have changed, but I will punish you for not following my rules of being near me. 

Some days I feel like having a chat. Other days I'll slap you cross eyed for even breathing the same air as me. Not because you did anything. Just because that is the roller coaster that it is bipolar. Our emotions twist and turn and pull us along for the ride. For the most part, we have little control over which direction we are pulled especially those like me who are unmedicated. While I know it's very difficult on those around me, I think the thing most people don't understand is how difficult it is on me. 

I don't want to be the way I am. I would love to be able to control my emotional roller coaster. This past week was the first time Jigger saw such an explosive reaction from me. During the four years we've been together I have managed to hold it together pretty well. Yes there have been yelling matches, but nothing as explosive as this past week. It scared him as much as it shocked him. One second he was arguing with me and the next he was a deer in headlights. Frozen in place. I don't even think he took a breath for a few seconds. 

When he finally did breathe, all he knew to do was to clean up the blood. What I think frightened him the most was that I had been bleeding for close to an hour with absolutely no idea that I had even been hurt. Blood was caked in my hair, dried on my face, smeared on the bed, walls, across everything I had touched in that last hour. The lights were off so the room was dark and I couldn't see. When he turned the light on to see why I flinched when he touched my hand, it was quite a shock for him and me. The sight of the blood shocked me back to reality for a moment. I went into auto pilot. Cleaning the wound, making a temporary bandage that would hold til morning when Jigger could go and buy some proper things. 

I wish I could turn back time. I wish I could be able to find the words to express the chaos that is running through me, but I can't and when the words become too loud, too confusing, too chaotic, then I explode. I push people far away. Not letting or wanting them near me and when the chaos subsides, I start to pull them back close to me. Except they don't usually want to be close to me any longer. The explosion has usually pushed them so far away that they don't want to experience it again. I mean honestly how many people want to live at the top of an active volcano? It's not an easy place to live near. 

That's why I usually just keep people away because I know eventually the explosion will take place and they will run. If I keep them away, then there is no need to fear that some day they'll leave. There is no need to worry that one day I'll do something stupid that even I can't explain and will cause them to love me a little less. Until one day there is no love left at all. Living inside my mind is not an easy place to live. I'm lucky in many ways. Even though Jigger and I have our problems, he never runs from the explosions. For that I am truly blessed.

Blood Spatter

What happens when you have amanic moment and are unable to express yourself with words? Or what happens if every word you is twisted to suit the views of another? Or what happens when you feel yourself falling and spinning out of control? What happens when your mind is unable to cope with the chaos that is surrounding you?

What do you do?

You pick up the water glass sitting in front of you and smash your head with it until it shatters and thereby cuttung your head and hand so badly it'll take 3 hrs,several blood soaked bandages and a lot of compression to make the bleeding stop. you'll need stitches but won't go get them because you won't want to explain what happened instead you'll spend 45 mins typing a blog with 1 finger.

this ends today's episode of "INSIDE THE BIPOLAR MIND"

Run Away

If only I could. Run. Far. From here. From me. From everything that surrounds me. To some place. Where there are no people. No rules of how you're suppose to be. No little holes to try to fit it and you're not able. No hurt. No pain. Just silence. And the wind. 

If only  it were that easy. If only I could squeeze myself hard enough into a little ball until I disappeared within myelf. Fell through time and space into nothingness. If only I did not exist. I question my reason for being everyday. Everywhere I go I reek havoc and chaos upon those around me. Hatred and disgust are my two best friends. They follow me everywhere. They never leave my side. They are the only certainty in this uncertain world. I cannot love nor be loved. I cannot live near others nor allow them to live near me. I cannot simply be nor do I want to be. Then what is the point?

Why am I here? Just to be a plaything for the universe. A broken toy to knock around when it feels bored. What did I do that was so wrong so heinous that I deserve this so called existence that has been forced upon me? When will I ever be free?

Remain Seated At All Times During Ride

Enveloped by fear. Crippled unable to move forward. Lost unknowing how to return. 

I walk through the world in constant fear. Fear of people seeing within me. Seeing the festuring pus that resides within the core of my being. The corroded monstrosity that hides from prying eyes until the darkness surrounds it, hiding its steps from others as it creeps through the world. A silent predator lurking within. 

Ravaged by anger. Seething, boiling, longing to be unleashed. Just to destroy. Anything. Everything. Like a rabid dog, ripping and clawing at whatever happens to cross its path. No reason. No logic. Just pure unleashed anger. 

With every breath I take these emotions roll through me. Slithering and writhing. Tossing me here and there licking me as my senses are overwhelmed by their repulsive stench. I wait for the moment to pass. To release me from its grip. Nothing I can do will make it hurry for it moves at its own pace. Inching along until finally for reasons unknown it simply moves on. Leaving me strewn amongst the aftermath. A broken toy tossed aside by a spoiled child. 

Hurt. Hidden deep within. Locked way in the corners of the darkness. Silent. Overpowered by fear and anger. Unable to be. Unable to grow. Pushed back each time it tries to come forth. Weak and powerless it sits and waits for the moment when it can finally be free.

Maintaining Control At All Costs

Be careful how quickly you give away your fire. ~Robert Bly

Consider yourself an architect for every aspect of your life — your writing, your exercise regimen, your finance management.

How well do you pace yourself with your story’s plots, your workouts, or your financial spending? How much control do you retain in everything that you do? What has happened when you have “given away your fire” too soon? What can you change in your life, right now, if you took greater control?  Smash 365

Allowing others to have "control" is a major trigger for me. Even in little mundane everyday things that really don't matter. Even in things I have no clue what I am doing. I must maintain control. I must do it. I cannot allow someone else to do or have control. This is a major problem in my life and my marriage. It is the source of the majority of our arguments. It is the source of the majority of the manic episodes in my life. Whenever I feel I am not in control, I panic. I imagine the worst case scenario and convince myself that is exactly what will happen unless I have control over the situation. Even though I may have no clue what the hell I am doing somehow just by doing it myself or controlling how it is done makes me feel calm. It makes my world be ok. It makes everything be ok. 

The minute I no longer have control the world becomes chaotic. I feel like it is spinning out of control. I feel like I am falling into the abyss never to return. It creates an extreme sense of panic and anxiety in me. No matter how much I try to let go I am unable to. 

I don't enjoy being this way. I don't enjoy being unable to allow others to do for me. I don't enjoy the panic that floods through me at the thought of not being in control. I WANT to allow others to do, but I simply cannot. I try and try to allow them to take control, but the minute I sense that the situation is going slightly askew even when it really isn't, I panic. I take back control. This causes people to be angry with me. Jigger gets so pissed at me sometimes that he literally REFUSES to do anything if I am present. 

The other day we argued because I could NOT allow him to fix my computer. Even though he is the one who KNOWS how to do it much better than me. Even though it only took him an hour to get it sorted after I begged and cried for two days for him to do it because I could NOT figure out certain parts of it. I had to go take a shower while he fixed it because I literally could NOT sit in the room with him. I knew I would start. I knew we would fight again and he would refuse again and I would be without a computer for another two days. So the only solution I had was to physically remove myself from the room. By the time I returned he was almost finished. 

Seeing that it was almost complete allowed me to remain calm for the remaining 20 mins while he worked on it and sorted it out. For now the only solution I have is to remove myself when someone is doing something. When I have no control. 

But I am working on this. It is something I plan to conquer. Just like the other demons that swirl and twirl and dance inside my head. Some day I shall vanquish them all but for now I dance and twirl like a good little puppet as they pull my strings and demand attention. 

One Roof Different Worlds

The events of the last 72 hrs have been turbulent to say the least. Not on the outside but on my inside. On my outside, I have smiled, laughed, joked, and nearly bitten my tongue in half. On my inside,  a volcano has been erupting, lava spewing in all directions, a crazed missing link deseparately searching for a way out of its cage. It's been a very long 72 hrs.

But one of the things that I came to realize once I stopped for a few moments and simply breathed is that while we all may share the same roof over our heads we are from very different planets. I have watched with disgust as the people around me complained about things which they had no right to complain about and silently I seethed at them. In my mind, I plotted their deaths. Threw unseen daggers and filled their glasses with poisonous venom.

I came to realize one very important thing. Non crazy people disgust me. They are vindictive, unappreciative, greedy, selfish, and jealous. At least the ones I know are. While I am certain there are some crazies out there who are just like them probably even worse, I have not come across them. I don't know if it's the fact that we live inside of the chaos and therefore are more willing to lend a helping hand, a comforting word to someone who is hurting or in need. Or maybe it's because our worlds are so turbulent that whenever someone took a moment to offer a word of kindness to us it was worth more than gold and we want to give that to someone else.

I truly don't know, but what I do know is that I have been disgusted by these people. A resentment is building inside of me. I fear that there will come a day when I can no longer contain it and it will erupt. When it does, there will be casualties. I fear that I will be amongst them.

For all of the hardships, difficulties, and loss I have faced, in some ways I am glad I am bipolar. If being bipolar is what makes me offer kindness to a stranger, even if the only thing I have to give is my ear to listen, then I would gladly be bipolar instead of being the selfish vindictive non crazy that I seem to be surrounded by.

Then the Universe Laughed

You know the other day how I wrote about being proud of handling, coping, and duct taping. Well apparently the universe would have no such thing and set about to literally break me in half. It almost did. 

It's been 25 days since Jigger left. 25 days since I had a shoulder to cry on. A warm body beside me to let me know the world is not cold. A calming voice to soothe the raging volcano that simmers constantly inside of me. 25 days since I didn't shake. 25 days of uncertainty. 

It might not seem like much but it's a very long time. 

So the other day when I said I was coping. Barely but coping, the universe apparently having nothing better to do and no evil villain to chase set about making me eat a little crowpie. And yesterday I broke. 

During the last 25 days, I have managed a flooded house, having my two Sil's and their 4 children here, disconnected internet, a twice broken computer that died on the second go round, a computer that is my lifeline to the world, a computer that keeps me on the edge of sanity, a computer that is my freedom, and it died, but I didn't break. I duct taped instead. I configured my husband's computer to mine and used my husband's instead. I didn't break, but I was barely holding on. 

Then day before yesterday I went to get a drink of water. I was thirsty I mean after all it was 120 degrees. That makes me thirsty. Except the water wasn't cold. It was lukewarm. I passed it off on not being in the fridge long enough and went to bed. But when I woke up the water was completely hot and the fan was off. You remember the fan? The fan that sits behind the fridge to keep it cool so that our stuff is cold. Yeah that fan it was off. That's when I broke. 

32 days ago we spent a month's salary repairing that fridge. A month's salary that we didn't have. A month's salary that we got by selling things. Things like room air coolers that make the air feel slightly less like it came from hell. But fridges are more important than not sweating. 

So upon the fan off and the water hot, I broke. I had a full on panic attack.There were tears. Lots of tears. And snot. Lots of snot. I become a snot factory when I cry. It pisses me off. Which makes me cry more which makes more snot which pisses me off. I hate snot. 

I couldn't eat dinner. What were we going to do? I had no idea. I couldn't keep duct taping. I can't keep carrying burden after burden after burden. I lay in the pitch black dark in my room and cried and cursed. I swore at my BIL who was sitting on his ass watching TV who had done jack shit nothing to help. Who had done absolutely nothing for me in these 25 days. Whenever I needed anything I had to call a friend of my husband's. He's a little guy. Younger than my BIL by about 4-5 yrs. Not even 21 yet. Not family. Nothing. Just a friend who worships my husband. Whatever I needed, big or small. One text to him and he was at my door within 15 mins. No grudges. No complaints. Happy that he could do something for me and all the while my BIL sat, watching TV, stomach full while mine rumbled. Not once did it cross his mind that he needed to get the fuck up and do SOMETHING. Then I cried some more and made some more snot. 

After about 8 hrs of snot making, I got up off of the floor, sent a few emails. Pretended I was chicken little and "the sky was falling". Made more snot. Then slowly I took out my duct tape and began to work. I pieced this and poked that. A plan slowly began rolling in my brain. A small plan. Was it possible? Maybe. Dunno. WTF let's try it and see.

Yep, that worked. Let's see if this piece fits here. No not really but that one does. More duct tape less snot. After about 5 hrs, I had a plan. It wasn't perfect but it would work. I could get the fridge fixed without having to sell my lifeline to the world. Without having to surrender my freedom. I felt better. Calmer. 

Then the universe threw me a curveball because fucking hell that is what the universe does. I went to give my MIL the monthly house allowance except I only gave her half. I told her that I would fix my computer and fridge and depending on how much I had left next week I would give her some more. 

She didn't complain. She was helpful. And pissed. Pissed at my BIL who lay sleeping a few feet away. Pissed that prices of everything have doubled AGAIN from last month. Pissed that only I seem to try and her son who is responsible sits there and does fuck all. I was shocked, but decided to see how far I could go with this. 

She wanted him to bring the fridge repairman. You know the one we paid 32 days ago a month's salary. She said she wasn't paying him a damn dime. He would fix it but she couldn't get him to come because my BIL wouldn't get off his ass. She asked me to ask my lil guy if he would bring the fridge repairman. It was a bit of abuse of my position but fuck I needed a drink of something cooler than brimstone so I agreed to the evil deed. A few hours later I msged him, 15 mins he was at my door. Fridge was duct taped. 

I sit here writing this post with a cold glass of water sweating by my side. It's not permanently fixed but when my husband comes he can make the final adjustments. It didn't cost me a month's salary. I still have both my kidneys. At least until the next crisis then who knows.

How much do you think I could get on craigslist for a kidney? I need to keep my options open.

Culmination of all Things Catastrophic

So last night as I lay on the floor staring at the ceiling through the pitch black darkness, I had an epiphany. I was thinking about the events of this week. All that happened. All that I had managed on my own. All that could have gone wrong but didn't. What may still be wrong but I am not sure of. I thought that I should write this all down each week as a way of seeing what I did right or wrong. What I could have done better or just remember what I did good. Then it hit me. Fucktard you have a blog. Oh yea I do. So I thought on Sundays I would sort of do a weekly wrap up. I don't necessarily blog about some things that are too personal or that are identity revealing but on Sundays I could still sort of throw hints and innuendos in there and it would be a way for me to look over the week, see where I still need to improve, where I am doing ok with, and sort of chart my progress through the insanity.

So this marks the first week of wrapping the crazy in pretty paper and pretending it's not dogshit. Let's see what happens:

I had a lot of issues this week. My computer decided to go batshit crazy and nearly gave me a heart attack. I am proud of myself for the way I handled it. Ordinarily I get all chicken little "the sky is falling let's head for the hills" when things go wrong. Regardless of how small or fixable things are they seem world ending to me. It's as if my world has shattered into a million pieces and I don't know how to put them back together again.

However this week, I managed to duct tape things back together. I was offered an amazing gift of friendship. Which is even more shocking to me than my not falling apart this week when everything that could go wrong did go wrong. I am truly amazed by the kindness of strangers. My view of people is very negative. I am always on the look out. Waiting for them to attack me, waiting for them to turn on me, because it always happens, but the people I have met through blogging have reminded me while I have made bad choices in the people I had around me, that not everyone is an asswipe. There are good people out there. People who would move mountains to help you, who do so much just by listening. People who are truly human.

What else happened this week? I got quite a bit of work done on my project. I am truly excited about this project. It is simply amazing. I have learned so much. I always do whenever I do these projects. I learn things that I didn't even know existed. Things I didn't even know I didn't know. It just amazes me at how much there is out there. How much we have to learn and how if we learned just a little bit then we truly could do so much more than we are doing now.

So all in all it's been a pretty good week especially compared to the week before. I was told to focus and I did. I have to remember that I need an extreme amount of focus, planning, and scheduling to keep my skin from wanting to crawl off. My gran use to say "idle hands are the devil's work" and for me an idle mind sends me to that place of unease. That place where I want to go forward in a 1000 different directions all at once but I don't want to move. I don't like that place. I do stupid things when I am in that place, but focus keeping my mind focused on one particular thing keeps me at least eased enough that I don't feel like peeling my skin off and sowing it together so that it fits better.

That's about it. It's all I remember anyways but that's not saying much. There are days I barely remember my own name. So I shall leave you with this little diddy:

Making My Skin Suit Fit

As my ever so lovely Sam pointed out. I need to make my skin suit fit better because right now it's itchy and crawly and I feel like I have a wedgie and basically am just uncomfortable. One thing that I have basically stopped since I got married is dance. I am extremely self concious about any type of exercise in front of people. 

Even in front of my husband. 

So while I do yoga (when he's sleeping), I have sort of slacked off the last few months. I haven't been doing yoga or any other exercise for that matter and I really think that is part of the reason I am just raging. 

Whenever I exercise it works out some of the pent up energy. It relaxes me. It helps my skin suit fit better and I think I need to somehow figure out how to make exercise/dance/yoga part of my daily routine again. 

When I lived alone I use to dance for about two hours a day so from that to nothing is a major change. One my body and mind are apparently revolting against. I exercised/danced today for about 45 mins.

Afterwards I was drenched in sweat but I felt the most peaceful and calm that I have felt in several weeks. So I am definitely going to figure out how to make this part of my daily routine. The difficult part will be continuing it once Jigger comes home.