Then I Exhaled

When I was writing yesterday's post about monkeydickfuckers, Jigger walked in and I stopped at the spot where the post ended which is why it ended so abruptly. I had asked him to bring some juice home with him because I had a horrible migraine, and he did, but as he handed it to me he made some remark that just broke me. Honestly, I have no idea what he said all I know is that it caused me to fly into a blind RAGE. I unleashed upon him all of the shit that I have been keeping inside of me. I was CRUEL. I knew exactly what to say, how to say it, and when to say it so that it would inflict as much pain and hurt as possible. At first he tried to put up a fight but really he was way out of his league. While we have had screaming matches in the past, I don't usually go full force, but this time was different. He stood no chance. The more I screamed the less he did. Until finally at some point there was only silence, and we simply stared at each other.

But I refused to blink first. I stared him down. Stone cold death stare. I did not cry. I did not show emotion. I am good at it. My mother trained me well. All those times of being beaten with belts and switches. "If you cry and apologize, I will stop she would say. Except I hadn't done anything wrong. At least not enough to deserve the beating I was getting and fuck her if I cried or apologized so she beat me. Until blood ran down my legs and I stared. Until the switch or belt broke and I simply stared. So really Jigger had no chance and I broke him. 

I hurt him deeply with my words, but I was also hurting. To be fair to him, he is as much a product of his environment as I am. I react the way I do partly because of bipolar and partly because of the abuse I have lived through. He is no different. He wasn't abused in the same sense as me, but he wasn't loved either. He is the "black sheep" in his family which is ironic considering all he does for them, but simply because he chose to live his life slightly differently than their traditional way he is the outcast. They talk so badly about him. So it's hard for him to accept that I truly am with him because I love him and want to be with him. We both have scars that are healing. We both have issues that we each are dealing with. We come from very different worlds so sometimes he doesn't understand my language and I don't understand his, but we have reached a point where we both realize and accept we have done wrong to the other one. 

After he broke down last night, we talked. I mean really talked for several hours. He finally told me all of the things he had been told. He doesn't really believe it, but he says that sometimes when I do or say something it makes him think that maybe it might be true, and anyone who has bipolar and/or BPD knows how easily it is to make yourself believe the "worst". So we both agreed to be more open and talk to each other more honestly. Even if it is hard. Even if it is something we don't want to talk about because if we don't then we are going to tear each other apart. 

In some ways I am glad he is going on this trip in a couple weeks. I desperately need some space and living in a house full of people it is very difficult to find that space. I have always found comfort and calm in the water. Before whenever I was upset or anxious, I would go to the river and just sit and stare at it. Watching it always brought me a sense of calm and peace and now I don't have that. I feel like every nerve ending in my body is exposed and my flesh is burned raw. Every touch is painful and I just need some space. This time apart will give me that space I am so desperately in need of. Then maybe I will be able to breathe. I'm sorry for leaving that post the way I did yesterday, but it was important for me. I needed that physical reminder of where we had been and where we are going.

my spot

So for now I am just going to exhale.

Honesty Sucks Monkey Dick

First I would like to preface this post by saying I am being forced against my will to blog. I did not want to blog. I wanted to crawl into a dark little corner and have a pity me party but oh no, bitch would not let me. Bitch had to stick her gawddamn nose all up in my bizness and is forcing me to blog because it will be all therapuetic or some such nonsensical shit as that. So yea bitch, I love you.

I don't really know if monkeys have dicks, but if they did, then honesty would blow each and every one of them because honesty is a big fat crock of SHIT. I don't know who came up with the idea of HONESTY but obviously it was someone who never has been honest in their whole life and thought hmmm how can I make money oh I know I will get people to believe my bullshit.

I was honest with my husband. I am no angel. I am not proud of the shit I did but I also don't feel the need to LIE about it either. Some of what I did was when I was manic some was when I just plain fucking stupid, but either way I did what I did. I have never been one to shy away from that. Most people misinterpret my honesty but that is ok they suck monkey dick too so I could care less what they fucking think. Monkeydickfuckers.

The reason I was so honest with my husband is because we have a LOT of mutual friends. Friends who I was certain would be more than happy to fill my husband in on my past. I thought by me telling him that it would keep us from having problems, but oh how naive was I. Because what I didn't plan on was the fuckholes LYING about my past. What I didn't plan on was my husband BELIEVING the fuckholes lies instead of me. But that is what happened and for three years now I have tried my best to make him believe me. I have been patient because he has been patient with me, but I am human. I have limits and I am at the end of my rope.

I cannot continue on being called a whore, slut, and any other word you can think of to insert here simply because two people decided making me look like a fuckass would somehow alleviate them from their participation in our relationship. By making me out as the controlling manipulative bitch, it would somehow make their cheating on their wives less important and you know what, they were fucking RIGHT. So divorce #2 is drawing near. I have already started making plans and most likely will leave right after Jigger comes back from his trip in July.

Manic vs True Self

Due to a recent argument with Jigger, this thought has planted itself inside my brain and will not budge. Therefore I am forced to vomit it all over you guys because that's just the way things are. During the two years I was psychotic/manic, I did ALOT that I don't consider to be "me". Like fucking anything with three legs. That isn't me, but now everyone considers that to be who I am. I am the slut. The whore. Promiscuous. This has become my "true self" in their eyes. According to them, this is how I truly wished to be so when I was manic that is why this side of me came out. 

It doesn't matter that I was a virgin when I married my now ex. Yes I consider myself a virgin. Just because my hymen was not intact does not mean I was not. I do not consider the forcible removal of a hymen to make someone NOT a virgin so yes I was a virgin. Then I spent almost ten years celibate after my divorce. 

TEN YEARS!!! 

Does someone who is really and truly a whore, slut, promiscous spend TEN FUCKING YEARS celibate? Why did I spent ten years celibate? Because the only reason any guy wanted to be with me was simply to fuck. After the birth of my second child, I had myself sterilized due to health reasons (I almost died during childbirth and considering I had become pregnant twice on birth control I wasn't willing to take any chances) so from that moment forward all I was to guys was a good fuck. No one would consider me "marriage material" simply because I was unable to have children. So I didn't date/fuck/look at men. I worked and did my best trying to make ends meet to take care of myself and my kids. 

Then I flew over the cuckoo's nest and suddenly I was the star of "Debbie does Dallas". I have no idea why. Actually I do know why. I remember thinking "well if all I am is a whore, then I am going to be the best gawddamn whore there is". Except I wasn't, but I tried to be. The whole time there was a very small tiny voice inside of me that said, "this isn't me", but yet no one would listen. Not even me. 

So which is the real me? The me that doesn't fuck around. The me that I feel I am inside or the manic me that spread her legs for any one that breathed heavily. I don't want to be that person. I don't want that whore to be me. But am I just lying to myself or is that really who I am?

Because honestly at the moment, I have no fucking clue.

The Mist

Awake without seeing

I walk through the darkness of my own imagination

Lost amidst a sea of dreams and broken promises

My hand reaches out into the unknown

Searching through the mist of uncertainty

Grasping for what once was but shall never be again

My mind wanders through the mist

No destination no longing

Just vastness, emptiness

Point of no return as life slips through my fingers

 I watch it fall and I wonder

Was that really me

In the mirror stands a stranger

Fractured by the shards

Broken but complete

Come it beckons

A siren that I willingly follow

Another 100 words from me @ Velvet Verbosity 
the prompt this week was UNCONCIOUS

I Shit You Not

A few of my USA friends have mentioned the heat and that they are "hot". I laugh at them because they have no freakin' clue what hot is. If you don't need to do this, then it is not hot where you are. A little background info so that you can truly appreciate the situation.

Towards the end of last summer our fridge died, but during the winter it's no biggie. We don't really use the fridge for much of anything anyways other than keeping water cold, and during winter that isn't an issue so we weren't in too much of a hurry to replace it. We figured whenever we found a good deal then we would. So a couple months ago, my BIL* who owns a fridge/AC repair type business came across an almost new fridge and told us we could have it for basically next to nothing. Of course we said "gimme" and since then have had a wonderful fridge until three/four days ago when it decided it did not want to work. 

So we called a local repairman who fixed it but that lasted less than 24 hrs. That is when my husband called his BIL to ask him about the fridge. Well his BIL lives in another city kinda far from us and said he couldn't come by til next week. So for the last couple days we have been managing without a fridge but it's hotter than fuckin' hell here and drinking water that could literally be straight from hell it is so hot does little to nothing to quench one's thirst. My husband calls said BIL back and leaves a msg. He calls while my husband was sleeping and talks to my MIL. He gives her instructions on how to temporarily "fix" the fridge so that it will work until he can come to repair it. 

This is what I found when I woke up. IShitYouNot:

There was this:

sitting behind our

 I asked my husband why there was a FAN sitting behind our FRIDGE. He said this as if it was the most logical natural thing in the world. Apparently according to said BIL the fridge might be getting too hot and to put a fan behind it so that it could get cool. That would keep it working until he can get here to fix it permanently.  (although in defense of the fan, the water is frozen solid)

So now at this very moment, we have a fan sitting behind our fridge on high, cooling our fridge so that we can have water that does not taste as if it is from Hell itself. So if you don't have to put a fan behind your fridge to keep it cool, then it's not really hot where you are. 

I swear when I moved  I thought I would be leaving behind redneck solutions. I could not have been more wrong. Sigh.

* Said BIL is my husband's sister's husband's brother and if you can follow that, then you have more white trash in you than you admit to

I Am Unwritten

I am unwritten, can't read my mind, I'm undefined
I'm just beginning, the pen's in my hand, ending unplanned

Staring at the blank page before you
Open up the dirty window
Let the sun illuminate the words that you could not find

Reaching for something in the distance
So close you can almost taste it
Release your inhibitions
Feel the rain on your skin
No one else can feel it for you
Only you can let it in
No one else, no one else
Can speak the words on your lips

Drench yourself in words unspoken
Live your life with arms wide open
Today is where your book begins
The rest is still unwritten

Oh, oh, oh

I break tradition, sometimes my tries, are outside the lines
We've been conditioned to not make mistakes, but I can't live that way

Staring at the blank page before you
Open up the dirty window
Let the sun illuminate the words that you could not find

Reaching for something in the distance
So close you can almost taste it
Release your inhibitions
Feel the rain on your skin
No one else can feel it for you

Only you can let it in



No one else, no one else
Can speak the words on your lips
Drench yourself in words unspoken
Live your life with arms wide open
Today is where your book begins

Feel the rain on your skin
No one else can feel it for you
Only you can let it in
No one else, no one else
Can speak the words on your lips
Drench yourself in words unspoken
Live your life with arms wide open
Today is where your book begins
The rest is still unwritten

Staring at the blank page before you
Open up the dirty window
Let the sun illuminate the words that you could not find

Reaching for something in the distance
So close you can almost taste it
Release your inhibitions
Feel the rain on your skin
No one else can feel it for you
Only you can let it in

No one else, no one else
Can speak the words on your lips
Drench yourself in words unspoken
Live your life with arms wide open
Today is where your book begins

Feel the rain on your skin

No one else can feel it for you
Only you can let it in
No one else, no one else
Can speak the words on your lips
Drench yourself in words unspoken
Live your life with arms wide open
Today is where your book begins
The rest is still unwritten
The rest is still unwritten
The rest is still unwritten

Oh, yeah, yeah 

Riddle Me This

(This was a draft I found in my drafts folder. I wrote it back in March. Just found it today thought I would hit publish so I did. Suck on it)

One of the hardest things for me is being misunderstood. I am not sure if I am different because of bipolar or if I have bipolar because I am different. Either way, I am different. However I am content in my difference. I would be happy in my difference if other people would accept that I am fine without being like them. I don't need to wear the latest name brand. Forget wear it. I don't even know it. I don't need to be bought things on "days". Forget bought things, I don't even remember what "day" it is. Just because I don't remember the day doesn't mean I don't love them. It just means I don't think love is contained within a "day".

It's funny to me how people are told to "be themselves", but when I am myself, people seem to get offended. Why is this my problem? You told me to "be myself", but people don't really want that. They want cookie cutter happiness. They think only their happiness is real happiness and unless I act just like them then I cannot possibly be "happy". So I do what they want and pretend, but then I am not really happy, and my insincerity shows. Then people get upset with me because I am not being sincere but instead being fake.

I don't understand what it is people want. I don't understand why it is that I am the crazy one when it is them who can't make up their fucking minds about what they want me to do. Which is why I don't give a furry rat's ass what they think and just do what I want instead. Of course that could explain why I have so few friends. I don't need to smile like the Joker to be happy. Did you ever see Batman smile? No. So why in hell do you people want me to be the Joker when I so obviously have perfected the Batman no smile?

While I would like to think their concern is out of care and love for me, it really isn't. It's their own selfishness that causes them to want me to be "happy". They don't care if I am truly sincerely happy. They just want the appearance of their definition of happiness so they feel better. So they can have their own little make believe Gotham.Except Gotham doesn't work like that and neither do I.

It really is possible to be happy without owning heels or makeup or jewellry or insert other girly thing here. So just let me be.