ThatBipolarGirl

My life is a story waiting to be told. Oh, and I love poetry, especially haikus. Welcome to my world.

[thatbipolargirl]

6-30-2022

So I'm re-writing this post from memory. Either my Chromebook or Tumblr deleted the entry I was working on. I'm already having a mother f'ing shitty-ass day, and that just put the f'ing cherry on top. I am so glad this month is almost over. June 2022 will go down in history as one of the shittiest months I've ever had. Yesterday I found out Plan B and IUD's are now illegal in Missouri according to the abortion law(s) now in effect since Roe was overturned on the 24th. The Kansas City Star had an article on Facebook yesterday reporting that St. Luke's Health System (the largest hospital system in KC and surrounding area) will no longer give their patients emergency contraception (Plan B).

Fuck Tumblr. It just deleted another whole paragraph. I'm so over this day already. Maybe I'll write more later or tomorrow.

Until then...

[thatbipolargirl]

6-29-2022

I have been watching the January 6th congressional hearings on television. I've seen every single minute of each hearing, and I plan on watching the rest of them that are scheduled in July. Each and every one has blown my mind. I knew a lot of what happened that day just from what the news has reported, but I now know what was happening behind the scenes, especially when it comes to former President Donald Trump. After watching the explosive testimony from the witnesses, I now firmly believe Trump belongs behind bars. I didn't really think they had enough evidence before the hearings to put him in prison, but the committee has now strongly proven their case against Trump and some of his cronies such as Rudy Guliani (Trump's Attorney) and Mark Meadows (Trump's Chief of Staff). I seriously hope Merrick Garland (current Attorney General) is watching these hearings as intently as I am, and prosecutes these criminals as soon as possible.

Jeremy has to go back to work today. He has been on vacation for the past ten days. I have mixed feelings about this. On one hand, I'll be glad for him to have some time away for absence makes the heart grow fonder. It will be nice to not have him up my ass about everything, especially food and sex, all of the time. On the other hand, sometimes it scares me to know I will be alone with my crazy brain and its crazy thoughts. He was talking to me about how sometimes he gets upset because he has to leave me alone like this, and also how worried about me he can get. I told him I wasn't planning on offing myself yet, not right now, but I didn't know how I'd feel in a year from now. I just enrolled in Mutual of Omaha for life insurance, and it has a limited policy for the first two years, so I'm at least going to try to make it until mid-June of 2024. It is only for $10,000, but it is better than nothing. That amount will pay for my cremation, memorial service and be enough to pay off my credit cards. Speaking of dying, this reminds me I need to re-do my advance directive, my will and my list of final wishes. I have several other documents to type up and print as well, so I need to go to the library soon. Luckily, it is only a few blocks away. I need to get my real laptop fixed instead of just having this Chromebook, so I can have access to those documents on my own computer instead of having to go to the library. Perhaps I will do that with some of the money we got from selling the house.

Yesterday I donated $25.00 to both the Missouri Abortion Fund and Plan C, which helps women obtain mifepristone to use for a medication abortion. I wish I could afford to donate more because I would. There are so many wonderful reproductive rights organizations, and they are all in need of donations, especially now since Roe was overturned. I am overwhelmingly scared and worried about how many women will die because they can't get access to an abortion. I know I will do everything in my power to help my fellow women, and I don't fucking care if I go to prison for doing it. There are millions of people just like me who will do anything to help women in need. Abortion has been my number one reason for voting in the past and will also be in the future.

I don't know what I'm going to do today. I still haven't started water aerobics because a) I am intimidated (especially after meeting with that personal trainer and b) because it is hard to just start. I really, really wish I had someone to go with me so I wouldn't be so alone. I need to clean and do laundry, which are both never-ending chores. I really wish I could afford a maid once or twice a week. Some things like sweeping, scrubbing floors and vacuuming really hurt my hips.

Twenty-one days until I can get a referral for a new therapist and psychiatrist. I just have to hold on until then...

[thatbipolargirl]

6-28-2022

I very rarely want to have sex or want to do anything sexually related, and Jeremy is relentless about it. I know my sex drive is directly associated with both my depression and the many medications I take for my mental illnesses. I used to love having sex. I mean seriously, what is better than the feeling of an orgasm? Nothing. But over the past decade, I have been uninterested, and it directly correlates with when I started taking Zyprexa a few months before we got married. It makes me feel guilty because I know how important sex is in a relationship, plus Jeremy bothers me several times a day about it. Sometimes I just fucking give in so he will shut the fuck up about it. We don't usually have sex though, 99% of the time I just give him a blow job. I used to love giving blow jobs, but now just the thought of them makes my stomach feel queasy. Just typing about this has made me nauseous. I very rarely have orgasms, and those are always from masturbation, which I do maybe once every month or two. Honestly, I don't know if I even want my sex drive back. Sex is something I don't really care to do anymore. I wish I could just be married to Jeremy while abstaining from all of the sex stuff. I know that isn't fair to him, but that's how I feel. We are good at being partners in life and in marriage. However, our sex life has always been mundane, even in the very beginning of our relationship. Jeremy doesn't like to go down on me (I think he's done it twice since we've been together), but he expects me to go down on him all of the time. It makes me feel like my feelings aren't of any importance at all. I honestly think Jeremy would be happier with someone else -- a woman who cooks meals, keeps up with the housework and laundry, and blows him daily. That would be a dream wife for him. It certainly isn't me who has come to loathe sexual activity with him, rarely cooks a meal lets, the housework wait and the laundry pile up. Jeremy really should have been born way before 1982 so he would have a perfect housewife. It isn't that I don't love Jeremy because I do. I love him very much (to the moon and back). We would definitely be better off as friends who live together and happen to sleep in the same bed. Actually, I wouldn't even care if we slept in separate beds in separate rooms. Roommates. That's what we should be. Just roommates. I don't have the strength to work at our marriage, including our sex life. And to be honest, I don't really care to work at it. I am a very selfish person, and I hardly ever take his feelings into consideration. I am sure that is because I'm technically a psychopath because I have such abnormal social behavior. I try to feel empathy and sympathy for other people, but it is almost impossible for me to do so. I do a lot of pretending in my life, taking cues from what other people do and how other people act. I am really good at lying and being fake. I wear a mask most of the time, and no one knows who I really am. Not even me sometimes. I'm getting better at not lying though, especially to myself. I have become resigned to the facts of my life and have learned to accept myself more. I really don't know how this went from not liking sex to describing my psychopathic tendencies. I must talk to a therapist about this, and it has to be someone other than Ada, my current therapist. She is such a nice lady, but she hasn't helped me at all. During my appointments, she does way more talking than I do, mostly about her other clients or her experiences in life. I think I know more about her family than she knows about mine. I can't wait for my doctor's appointment on the 19th of July to get a referral for a new psychiatrist and also a new therapist. I'm just trying to take it day by day by day until that day. And then I will take it day by day by day until my new psychiatrist appointment. And day by day by day until my new therapist appointment. And day by day by day after that.

Until then...

[thatbipolargirl]

6-27-2022

Well I might as well start with the news dominating the United States right now -- the Supreme Court overturned Roe v. Wade on Friday, June 24th. I am frustrated and disgusted and irritated and pissed the fuck off! A few weeks ago, some guy was arrested for plotting to kill Brett Kavanaugh, one of the conservative justices on the Supreme Court. I really, really wish he would have gone through with his plan, instead of calling 911 to report himself beforehand. He would have certainly been a hero in my eyes if Kavanaugh was killed, or any other conservative justice on the court for that matter. I fear for all of the girls and women in the United States affected by this SCOTUS ruling. In Missouri, where we only had one abortion clinic anyway, had a trigger law that took effect as soon as the ruling was released. Now all abortions are illegal except in cases where the life of the mother is in jeopardy. There are no exceptions for rape and/or incest. My main question is if mental health/mental illness and threats/plans for suicide included in the life of the mother exception? I'm sure it is not, but it certainly should be. After all, mental health is just as important as physical health. Sometimes more so. In China, they used to force abortion on some of their female citizens. It was called the "One Child Policy" because most families were limited to having only one child. If a married woman became pregnant a second (or even third or fourth time), the government of China forced her to abort. My friend, Cindy, always said if a country can force abortions on their citizens, it could happen anywhere. And she's exactly right. However, here in the United States we are having forced pregnancies, which is equally as cruel. I am still in shock from Friday's ruling. The anti-abortion activists are celebrating, but they want to go further and outlaw abortion across the country. And sure, they can make it illegal, but abortions will still happen. They will just be less safe. You can only outlaw SAFE abortion, which really upsets me. And in Justice Clarence Thomas' opinion on Roe v. Wade alluded to going further and wants to eventually overturn the right to contraception and same-sex marriage. Which is completely ridiculous and outrageous. Constitutionalists are also celebrating because this ruling kicks the decisions back to individual states. But abortion should not be regulated at either the federal, state, or even local level. It shouldn't be a law at all. What other medical procedures have laws besides abortion and gender-affirming care (in some states). Are vasectomies regulated by law? No. Are cancer treatments regulated by law? No. Are treatments for diabetes regulated by law? No. These are all protected by privacy between the patient and his/her/their doctor. Doctors make an oath to "do no harm." If being pregnant or carrying a baby is harmful in ANY way to the mother, the fetus should be aborted. And I'm not speaking of just physical harm, I also mean financial harm, social harm, mental harm, etc, etc. Abortion should be available to any woman on demand, at any time for any reason. Full stop.

I had a really good birthday last week. I didn't win anything at the casino, but I played for about two hours on $100.00, which is good. Sometimes I can lose that amount in less than 20 minutes. After the casino, Jeremy and I went to eat at 54th Street. We had mushrooms as an appetizer, and then I got a club sandwich with waffle fries and their famous gringo dip. Jeremy got a ribeye and asparagus. I had a free dessert for my birthday on their phone app, so we split a salted caramel brownie with vanilla bean ice cream. It was so f'ing good. I didn't do much the rest of the day except veg out in front of the television, which was perfectly okay with me.

Friday we went to Brookfield. My mom was having a garage sale, so I helped with that. Holly, Angela and Cassidy helped as well. We all spent the night at mom's house, and she said she couldn't remember the last time the three of us sisters had done that. I couldn't remember either. Saturday was Jeremy's grandma's funeral. She died a few months ago, but they put off her memorial service until this weekend. They started with graveside services, where they had a pastor say a few things, and then some family members told stories about her. Then they buried her urn after putting both a cigarette and lighter in it (I loved that part). It was so f'ing hot that sweat was running down my forehead and into my eyes. Then it started raining, and then the bees came out. There were f'ing bees everywhere. Also, a boy at the funeral threw up after getting overheated. So, I went back to the car because I was feeling very anxious. After we left the cemetery, we went to the Sumner Community Center for a luncheon. However, I stayed in the car the whole entire time. I was crying, and I did not want to be around any people. It was so hot, I kept having to turn the car on to get some air-conditioning so I wouldn't hyperventilate. Jeremy and I then went to mom's house, packed our things and left. All I wanted was to be back in my own house with my kitties -- my safe space.

I had told Shelby I was thinking about going to my friend, Ace's, memorial get-together at the Muny Inn yesterday afternoon, and she said she would think about going. She messaged me yesterday to say she would come, but I told her I was way to depressed to do anything. She understood, and I'm glad she did. I'm trying to be more honest about when I'm being affected by my mental illness instead of making up elaborate excuses. I shouldn't have to do that at all, and I'm not sure why I ever did that in the past. Perhaps because I wanted to seem more "normal."

Jeremy and I binge-watched the show Upload on Prime all day yesterday. I made spaghetti and he made tacos. We also ate some leftover spice cake my mom had made me for my birthday. And I also ate leftover butterscotch bars that Holly made for me. Good thing Jeremy doesn't like those -- more for me! Not sure what, if anything, we are doing today. He is still on vacation until Wednesday night.

Oh, I forgot to mention that we finally fucking sold the Brookfield house. We didn't get as much as I wanted for it, but I would have sold it for a dollar just to get rid of it! Ha! So now I get to pay some of my credit cards off and pay other bills, which I am very happy about.

I hope today is a good day. I need one. Until then...

[thatbipolargirl]

6-21-2022

Forty-seven years ago today, I was born just before 11:00pm at Blessing Hospital in Quincy, Illinois. My mom told me that she had eaten a quarter pounder without cheese from McDonald's that day. I have always thought that was a fun fact, and could possibly be why I love McDonald's so much (but wait, who doesn't? Ha). Another fun fact is that Prince William of the United Kingdom was also born on June 21st (1982). I was named Carla Jean after my father, Carl, and my mother Sharron Jean. My mom said she thought about naming me Tiffany, but my father said that sounded like the name of a bakery. My parents always joked that if I was a boy, they would have named me Randall. Randall Crandall. Good one, mom and dad, good one. Haha. I'm sure I would have really been Carl Jr. I'm glad I wasn't a boy because Carl's Jr. is the name of a famous fast food chain in the Western United States that is related to Hardee's in the Eastern United States (Oklahoma and Wyoming have both -- thanks Google).

I have lived a lot of life in forty-seven years, even while constantly battling bipolar disorder, panic disorder, generalized anxiety disorder and obsessive-compulsive disorder. I have lived in both Missouri and Florida. I have visited thirty-one out of the fifty states, and I've also been to Canada, Spain and England.

Side Bar: My dad was the Clark Griswold of family vacations. We were always either planning a vacation or actually on vacation. My dad refused to fly, so we drove everywhere. Some of those vacations are my most favorite memories with my family. In addition to far away destinations, we spent a week camping every summer at Deer Valley in Laurie, Missouri, which is on the Lake of the Ozarks. My dad was also big on day trips -- mostly to visit family, go to a casino or eat at a good restaurant we had heard about.

I grew up in LaGrange, Missouri, which is a very small town on the banks of the Mississippi River. When I was fifteen, my parents "retired," and all retired people move to Florida, so we did. We lived in Marianna, Florida for exactly two years. Then we moved back to Missouri because my mother hated being so far away from family, including my sisters and her new grandchild. We settled in Brookfield in 1992. I graduated high school in 1993, and I earned my Bachelor of Arts from Missouri Western State University in Saint Joseph in 1999. The six years I spent going to college were some of the very best and very worst times of my life. I had to go six years because I withdrew from classes in the fall of 1996 and did not attend school at all in 1997 because that is when I was first diagnosed with mental illness. While I was on "sabatical," I lived in Brookfield with my parents, with my sister in Kirksville, and I also had a five-month stay in Tallahassee, Florida. The whole Tallahassee incident is a long story that I will have to write about another day. After I graduated from college, I moved to downtown Kansas City. In 2001, I fell in love online, so I moved to Springfield. I was married on August 8th, 2002, and divorced in November of 2004. I stayed in Springfield until October of 2006. I had had a very hard few years battling my mental illnesses, and I finally decided to move to be closer to my parents for support. I lived with them for two months in a very, very small town named "Mike." On December 8th, 2006, I bought a house in Brookfield. I met Jeremy on May 23rd, 2011, and we were married on August 25th, 2012. After almost fifteen years in Brookfield, Jeremy and I bought a house and moved to Saint Joseph in August of 2021. I guess that is the short run-down of my life, at least geographically.

Today Jeremy and I are going to the local casino and then out for lunch. I still haven't decided between Red Lobster and 54th Street Bar & Grill (I have a free dessert there). He got me two pairs of "murderino" socks, the book "Stay Sexy, Don't Get Murdered," and a silver bracelet that reads "I love you to the moon and back." My mom and Angela gave me money when we went to Hermann, and Holly bought me a rainbow sundress. Angela also sent me some lottery tickets "from Callie and Cassidy," and I won $35.00!

Anyway, it is almost 8:30 and I need to get ready. The casino opens at 10:00! Happy birthday to me. Until then...

[thatbipolargirl]

6-20-2022

Tomorrow is my 47th birthday. Where has my life gone? It seems like I was just 30 yesterday. There is so much missing time, so many memories either forgotten or never made in the first place (and so many regrets about that). Every single day I live is a day closer to my ultimate, inevitable death. Sometimes I think death sounds so sweet -- no more pain or guilt or suffering or mental illness. Other times the thought of death scares the hell out of me -- what if this life is truly all there is? Will I even realize that? Or what if there is life after death? I can't even comprehend what that would be like. I certainly don't believe in heaven or hell, but what if we do continue on somehow, somewhere in this infinite and ever-expanding universe? Death will either bring the answers to these questions or not, and both of those possibilities frighten me terribly.

Ninety-nine percent of the time, I wake up hopeful and in a good mood. But then the thoughts of everything come screaming into my head like a flooded river breaking through a dam. The crippling anxiety overwhelms my brain and my body. I once had a therapist who had a theory that babies born with the cord around their neck were more prone to having anxiety and panic disorders. She theorized that a baby born with the umbilical cord wrapped around their neck would have their very first thought and instinct filled with the terror of not being able to breathe, and therefore, panic. She asked me if that happened to me when I was born. I didn't know, so I asked my mom. Indeed, the cord was wrapped around my neck. I've often asked other people I meet with anxiety and panic disorders if they had the cord wrapped around their neck as well. Usually they either don't know or they simply answer "yes, why?" Then I tell them about the theory, and every single one of them have said that makes total sense. And it does. And that is how I wake up each morning -- happy to wake up in this world, but then the extreme panic takes over and I can't breathe. I'm going through life slowly suffocating to death due to my fear and anxiety. That's how I feel every single fucking day, and it is goddamn exhausting.

I was supposed to start water aerobics this morning, but I decided not to. I don't really know why except that change is hard, and I also feel a bit intimidated and scared of going. I also cancelled my therapy appointment. I just can't today. I just can't. I'm not having any agoraphobia today, but rather I feel like not having a schedule today. Just live today spontaneously without any plans. Also, Jeremy is on vacation, so I want to fully take advantage of the time with him. I am really looking forward to going to the casino tomorrow for my birthday. Gambling is such a good escape from my brain, and I welcome anything that helps me escape. I'm going to go take a bath and get ready to see where the day takes us.

Until then...

[thatbipolargirl]

6-19-2022

I had a dream about David last night. I don't remember the whole dream, but I know we were committing murders together. We were laying in bed discussing the murders, and I remember seeing random body parts. Then David lifted the cover off of him and my sorority sister, Sabrina West, appeared. He wanted us to kill her. I could see the tears in her eyes and her mascara was a bit smudged. I told her to go, to get out of there. It was like I chickened out of killing someone else, or maybe it was because it was someone I knew. Either way, she escaped. My excuse to David for not following through was because I had bee stings on my body, including my left thumb and in my groin area. I told him I was wearing a bathing suit when I got stung, and that is how they got to my groin area. I don't remember much else.

I met my sorority sisters, Aimee and Gwen, for coffee yesterday morning. We had a very nice conversation, and we agreed we would get together more often. I invited Gwen to go to water aerobics with me, and I texted her a free 10-day pass. I hope she goes, it would be so nice to have a friendly face to work out with.

Jeremy is in a mood today. He just got home from work and he's acting depressed. He shouldn't be, he has the next 10 days off. Yesterday he was bitching about "needing loving," and I just brushed it off. I am absolutely sure this is why he is acting down. Our sex life has come down to me giving him a blow job every week or so. I don't even remember the last time we had actual sex. The last time he touched me sexually was when we were in Las Vegas at the beginning of February. He has zero clue about what foreplay is. He doesn't even hardly kiss me, let alone French kiss me. And the truth is, I'm just not very sexual anymore, which is a complete 180 from how I used to be. I did masturbate last night, which I decided I'd better do because Jeremy would be home the next 10 days and I'd be unable to. It had also been awhile since I've done it. I wish we had a better sex life, and I mostly blame myself for the way it is. However, I don't feel any guilt or regret or remorse for it being that way. Jeremy is to blame some. He doesn't communicate about sex at all. He could care less whether I have an orgasm or not, and he's very selfish sexually. He also nags and nags and nags until I give him a blow job. He coerces me into doing it, and technically that is sexual assault. It is a really sad and frustrating and even angering situation. I think we would be way better off if sex wasn't even part of our marriage equation. Every time I give in to him, it makes me resent him even more than I already do. These next 10 days are going to be brutal. Ugh.

Sophie turned nine on June 12th, the Little Bitty's (Oliver, Penny and Boxxy) will be eight on June 25th and Bentley will be ten on July 12th. All but three of our kitties are elderly. Walter is four, Teeny is three and I *think* Lieuy is about five. My life would be so much lonelier without them. They keep me entertained and sane. They all make me feel loved. Well, as much as cats can anyway. Ha. If I could afford it, I would buy a farm, and build and run an animal shelter. Either that or open a cat cafe and bookstore.

I don't have any real plans today. I need to clean and do some laundry. Housework is never done. Ever.

Until then...

[thatbipolargirl]

6-18-2022

Today is David's 44th birthday, but to be honest, I don't really care. I can officially say I'm no longer in love with him. That statement makes me feel both relieved and sad. Relieved because I feel free from his spell that he's held over me for the past 21 years, and sad because my faith in fate and destiny is no more. Since I met him in June of 2021, I thought we were destined to be together. I thought he was more than my soulmate, I thought he was my twin soul. I thought we had been together in our many past lives, and would continue to search and find each other in our future lives. The realization that this is simply not true has broken me. I no longer know if I believe in any of those things -- soulmates, twin souls, past lives, future lives, destiny and fate. I guess you could say I've had a crisis of faith, or that I'm still currently having a crisis of faith. And I blame David for all of it, and I seriously do not care if that is fair to him or not. So happy birthday David, and go fuck.

I went to Genesis yesterday to meet with a personal trainer, which my insurance required before I started my workout regimen. His name was Brandon Church (Church -- it should have been a sign to me that things were not going to go well). We went over all of my health conditions, my unhealthy nutrition and eating habits and then he weighed me and determined my percentage of body fat. I weighed 219 and he calculated that I have 93 pounds of body fat (note to self -- lose 93 pounds). Then he put me on the treadmill for about four minutes while he measured my heart rate and observed my breathing. After that, we went back into his office to talk some more, and then he tried to sell me a bunch of personal training classes. He told me he could sell me a monthly prepaid package deal of two one-hour sessions per week for $860.00. He said if I paid for them separately it would be over $1500.00. I was flabbergasted to say the least. I told him there was no way I could afford that (who could?). Then he said the cheapest he could do was one half-hour session per week for $140.00 per month. I told him that was 10% of my budget and there was still no way I could afford it. I felt intimidated and ashamed. He was basically telling me that in order to be successful in getting healthy and losing weight that I needed these personal training sessions. I felt like he was saying I didn't care about my fitness program if I decided to do it on my own. Well, guess what Brandon Church? You can go fuck yourself too. I am responsible enough to do this alone, at my own pace, without anyone babysitting me or yelling at me to do better! And guess what, I certainly will!

I got my second COVID-19 booster on Thursday. My arm was a little sore yesterday, and it also made me so damn tired. I took two naps yesterday afternoon. Today I feel perfectly fine though. My arm isn't even sore. The powers-that-be are talking about combining the flu vaccine with future COVID-19 vaccines, and that scares the hell out of me. I had my first and only flu vaccine in September of 2001, and I was sicker than I'd ever been in my life. I distinctly remember crawling around the apartment I lived in because I did not have the energy to stand up and walk. I had just moved to Springfield, and I knew no one who could take me to the doctor (I certainly couldn't drive myself). So I called David's mom, Becky, and she said one of her friends lived in Springfield and she would ask her if she could take me. So that's what happened. I don't even remember the lady's name who so kindly picked me up and took me to urgent care. The lady that went into the exam room with me and held my hand because I told her I was scared. I will forever be grateful for the kindness of that woman -- the woman who cared enough to take time out of her day to take a stranger to the doctor. Anyway, I hope they don't combine the vaccines because I don't want to get that sick again. No way, no how.

For about the past five or six years, my cousin, Wendy, and her husband, Raymond, have hosted a family reunion at their house the Saturday before Father's Day. I went the first year for maybe an hour or two. I haven't gone since because A) it is always too fucking hot, B) there are too many damn screaming kids running around and C) they are fucking Trumpers. I just simply don't respect or even like them because of their political views. One of Wendy's very best friends died of COVID-19, and they still deny it. Anyway, the reunion is today. My mom is going, but neither of my sisters are. Instead, both of my sisters and Jeremy and I are going to my mom's house next weekend.

Speaking of Father's Day, I miss my daddy. He has been dead eight years now, and I don't even see how that is possible. It seems like he was just here; it doesn't seem possible that he's been gone that long. I miss him every single day. He truly was, and always will be, my hero. I love you daddy. Life just isn't the same without you here.

I'm meeting my sorority sisters, Aimee and Gwen, for coffee this morning, so I need to go get ready. I think I will wear my new rainbow dress that Holly got me for my birthday.

Until then...

[thatbipolargirl]

6-17-2022

I'm meeting with a personal trainer today at the fitness club I just joined. My insurance now covers a gym membership, and they require I meet with a personal trainer before I start any type of workout program. I joined this particular gym because they have a pool and offer water aerobics, which I love to do. The water aerobics classes are everyday at 8:30 except on Thursdays and Sundays. I know this will be good for me, but I also know it will be hard to stick to it, especially if I'm feeling depressed. However, everyone says exercise is good for depression, so maybe doing this will keep the down side of the roller coaster away. I'm a little nervous about meeting with the personal trainer today because I feel a little intimidated by someone who works out for a living. I don't want to be judged for the way I look or the sedentary lifestyle I currently lead. I just keep having to reassure myself that this will be good for me. This will be good for me!

I used to be an avid reader. I even majored in English Literature in college. However, I honestly haven't read a book in over ten years. I'm not sure exactly why either. I don't know if it is because it reminds me of when I was the "me" before I got really sick or because I'm too busy watching television (and Netflix and Hulu and Prime, etc.) or because I have problems concentrating most of the time or because it brings up feelings of anxiety for some unknown reason. Jeremy bought me the book "Stay Sexy, Don't Get Murdered" for my birthday, and I hope I can read it. I really love books and I would love to start reading again, but actually doing it is a whole other thing. Change is really hard. I'm going to at least try though. I even have a library card now, so I have access to thousands upon thousands of books. All I have to do is start on page one.

I'm meeting my sorority sisters, Aimee and Gwen (who are sisters in real life as well), for coffee at Mokaska's. I met them a few months ago there, and we had a really wonderful time talking and catching up. So I'm really looking forward to seeing them tomorrow. Gwen is also on disability, so I don't feel like I have to explain myself when it comes to me not working. I always feel like such a loser when people ask me what I do for a living. I live for a living. I spend every waking moment of every single day trying to stay alive even though my brain tells me I shouldn't. That's my job. I get paid $1400 a month to argue with my brain non-stop. I bet it is much more difficult than any regular job.

Well, I have to leave here soon to go meet with my personal trainer. Wish me luck. Until then...

[thatbipolargirl]

6-16-2022

I have therapy this morning at 10:00, then I'm touring Genesis Health Club and then I'm going to Walmart to pick up my new glasses and get my second COVID-19 booster shot. I have a prescription to pick up from the pharmacy there as well. My insurance now covers a gym membership, so that's why I'm going to Genesis. They are the only fitness center in St. Joe that has a pool, and that's why I chose them. I love to do water aerobics, so I know I'll actually use the membership. I only wish I had someone to go with me, but maybe I will make a friend or two in class to help keep me motivated in the long run. I have a free 3-month membership certificate to Genesis that I won on an online auction for the Noyes Home, so maybe Jeremy can join me until I get settled in a routine. I haven't even told him that I jAnoined yet. I need to talk to him about it today. My goal for the next twelve months is to lose about 75 to 80 pounds. I weigh about 225 right now, and I think this is a realistic goal. I look fine most everywhere except this stubborn stomach fat. So besides water aerobics, I'm going to work on my abs several times a week. I should probably do my arms as well since they feel so weak sometimes. They look okay, but I have hardly any muscle in them. Anyway, going to the gym will help me feel better both physically and mentally, so I'm really glad my insurance has this complimentary program.

My birthday is in five days, and I'm dreading turning 47. Where the fuck has my life gone? Jeremy let me open a couple of presents yesterday that came in the mail. He got me a silver bracelet that says, "I love you to the moon and back," and a pair of socks that read "Sorry I can't" on one sock and then the other reads "My murder shows are on." Does he know me well or what? I'm so obsessed with true crime stories! I'm always watching Dateline, 48 Hours, Forensic Files, etc, or watching documentaries on Netflix about serial killers and other true crime. A few months ago, Allison introduced me to the podcast "My Favorite Murder," and I fucking LOVE it! I had never even listened to a podcast before because I thought they were all just wastes of time, but I was wrong. The hostesses of "My Favorite Murder" are named Georgia and Karen. I identify with both of them because they both have anxiety disorders and are obsessed with true crime. The way they talk on their podcast makes me think that if I knew them in real life, we would be great friends. I've discovered that characteristic is key to making and continuing a podcast. At the end of every show, they always say, "stay sexy, don't get murdered." I ordered and received a SSDGM bumper sticker for my car. It has been too fucking hot to put it on my car yet, but I will soon.

I counted the steps at my therapist's office Tuesday. There are 21 -- five and then a landing, seven and then a landing and the front door, and then nine inside the building. I guess I should be happy the elevator is broken so I can occupy my stupid brain by counting stupid steps. So dumb. I fucking count everything, and I'm not one who enjoys math at all. I take that back, I like doing math when clothes are on sale for 75% (or more) off. Ha. What can I say? I have inherited my mother's shopping skills.

I'm in a relatively good mood today. I hope it lasts awhile. Having bipolar disorder is so unpredictive. I am rapid cycling, so my moods can change on a dime. I cannot wait until I get a new doctor here in town and get on some new medication, even though I dread med changes. I'm just so ready to be off of Zyprexa. It really fucks with my blood sugar, and it is one of the medications that "helped" me gain all of this weight.

Anyway, I have therapy in an hour and a half, so I need to go take a bath and get ready. I'm in the mood to write more, but alas, life is waiting for me.

Until then...

[thatbipolargirl]

6-15-2022

My mom's friend (ex-boyfriend) is dying. He has a sarcoma in his lungs. His name is Don. He is at KU Hospital in Kansas City right now. They told him without treatment, he only had about a month to live. I don't think he can be cured, but I know the doctors at KU will do everything they can for him to prolong his life. He isn't even 60 years old yet. And what did I ask my mom when she told me? I asked who is taking care of his cat, Diesel, while he is in the hospital? Am I more concerned for a human or an animal? I honestly don't know. I like Don. He is a nice man even if he has some conservative views that I don't agree with. The whole situation is just really, really sad.

Most everything in life is about avoiding death, even though we all know it is inevitable. Most of the evening news shows are about death and people dying "too soon." Murder, suicide, car and boating accidents, war, genocide, famine, drownings, pandemics -- all dominant the media's headlines. And if they aren't reporting about death, they are speaking about ways to avoid death -- new treatments for cancer (or other illnesses), vaccines, changing gun laws, announcing the suicide hotline number, reminding people to not leave children in cars on hot days, etc. They say two things in life are certain -- death and taxes. I would also like to add politics to that list. It seems if the news isn't reporting about death or ways to prolong death, they are talking about politics. And a lot of ways people do die has ties to politics -- war, genocide, gun control, the COVID-19 pandemic, famine in third-world countries, and so on and so forth. Death, taxes and politics -- the three certain things in life.

Why do we go to such great lengths in life to prevent death? Death is a completely natural occurrence. Every living thing dies. Plants, animals, humans and even planets and stars in the universe die eventually. Is it because we are scared to know what comes after death? Is it because our loved ones will be sad and broken-hearted when we die? Is there anyone, anywhere who wish for complete immortality on this Earth? The Earth has certain death in the future as well. Is it really all about how long you live or is it truly about the quality of life you live? Would you rather live to be 150 years old with a poor quality of life, or would you rather live to be 50 years old with a good (or even excellent) quality of life with zero regrets? It certainly is a tough question, and one that will not be answered soon.

I used to be very scared of death, but I'm not so much anymore. The one thing I do worry about regarding death is how it will affect my loved ones. That's the number one reason I've not committed suicide yet. I think and plan for my death a lot. I am donating my brain to Harvard Brain Bank after my death so they can further their studies on mental illness. I also want every single part of my body to be donated (that can be donated) to those in need. I've written my will, a list of my final wishes, and my own obituary. I've actually written two obituaries -- a sanitized version and the real version including all of my struggles with mental illness throughout my life. It will be up to my family to choose which one they use. I hope it is the real version, but, alas, I will never know. The parts of me that cannot be donated I want cremated. If any of my loved ones want part of my ashes to keep on a shelf or their mantel, so be it. I want part of my ashes spread in the Mississippi River, either at LaGrange or Quincy. Whatever ashes are left over, I want buried in Laclede cemetery with my ancestors. My mom wants her ashes buried there as well, and that is where I want Jeremy's ashes to be buried too. Before my mom dies, I want to move some of my father's ashes there. Right now, they are in a fruit jar at his deer stand in NE Missouri (his wishes). But I want my ashes to be close to him, my mom and Jeremy. I know it is purely symbolic, but that's what I want. Sometimes I get obsessed with my death and the plans I want. That obsession is what led me to writing my advance directive, will, a list of my final wishes and my obituaries. Sometimes OCD can be helpful. Sometimes. Not usually, but sometimes.

On a completely unrelated topic, I have been having a serious delusion lately that I'm being spied on by a law enforcement agency. Every time I speak in my house, even if it is to one of the cats, I feel like I'm being recorded and observed. I know this is a delusion, yet I cannot stop it. It sounds so cliche as well -- "I'm being spied on by the FBI." No matter how much I argue with my own brain, I still have this thought though. I hate it. I hate my brain. I really do want to take part of it out using a bone saw and an ice cream scooper. If I knew I wouldn't pass out from the pain or realization that that is what I'm actually doing, I would try it. Every time I think about it though, I get a vision of Hannibal Lecter cutting out pieces of Ray Liotta's brain and feeding it to him. That is, by far, one of the creepiest scenes in all of the movies I've ever seen, if not the creepiest.

I have an ultrasound on my thyroid today. I've had a growth on it for several years, and I've had several ultrasounds on it in the past. The doctors just like to keep an eye on it to make sure it isn't growing. Other things I need to do: pay my Kohl's bill in store, tour Genesis Health Club, get my oil changed and get gas. I don't know if I will do all of this today because I have therapy tomorrow and can do some of those errands then. Also, my new glasses will be in tomorrow, so I'll have to go to Walmart (eyeroll) to pick those and one of my prescriptions up.

I have been thinking about David a lot lately. I'm just curious as to how he is doing, although I'm sure nothing has changed. He will never change. He's slowly killing himself with alcohol. Not being in love with him anymore has really shaken my faith in soulmates, twin souls, fate, serendipity and parallel and past lives. I think life is just chaos with no great meaning or point.

Until then...

[thatbipolargirl]

6-14-2022

We finally have a buyer for our house in Brookfield! Our real estate agent said we should be able to close in 7-10 days. I am beyond relieved. Although we didn't get as much money for it that I originally wanted, I don't fucking care anymore. I just want to get rid of it and wash my hands of the whole damn thing. I will be a lot less stressed when we sign the final papers. Hallefuckinglujah!

I have therapy today, and I'm struggling with this new therapist. She mostly likes to talk about past clients she's had or what's going on in her life. Isn't that backwards? As soon as I see the nurse practitioner on July 19th for a referral to a psychiatrist, I'm going to ask for a referral for a new therapist as well. I just have to hold on until then. I'm still debating on whether to go to the Mayo Clinic or not. I have been so-so mentally the past few days, although I've had several minor panic attacks and my OCD has been interfering with my daily life significantly. Reminder -- recount the steps at my therapist's office today if the elevator is still broken.

After therapy, Jeremy and I are going to eat at Golden Corral. I have a free buffet for my birthday (which is next Tuesday). Then I have to go to the library, get a library card, and then print off some documents for the realtor. I have a few other papers to print off too. I also need to pay my Kohl's bill and pick up my prescriptions at Walmart. I want to go to Genesis Health Club to sign up for a membership through my insurance, but I doubt I do that today. I'll have to go tomorrow after my thyroid ultrasound or after therapy on Thursday. I can't do too much in one day or I get anxious and panicky because I get so overwhelmed. My brain is such a cunt.

They are having the January 6th committee hearings on television this week. So far, they have been very jaw-dropping, even though some of the information was already out in the public eye. I fucking hope Trump goes to prison. He deserves to live the rest of his fucking miserable life behind bars. Fucking asshole.

Jess called me Sunday and was wanting to talk through her mania. I was not feeling well physically due to my Ozempic. It is a really good medication for my diabetes, but it makes me throw up sometimes. I took it Friday, and I threw up both Saturday and Sunday. On Sunday, I threw up about 20 minutes after I took my morning medication, so I felt awful that whole day. I texted her and told her I had a "stomach bug," because it was so much easier than explaining about my Ozempic. I texted her again yesterday, just wanting to check in with her, and she said her boyfriend was coming to stay with her for the week. So I'm glad she isn't alone now. I need to text her later to see how she is feeling.

I seriously cannot believe I will be 47 next Tuesday. My life has been wasted on having mental illnesses. My brain has stolen so many opportunities, so much hope, so much faith. I am resigned to the fact that I will commit suicide within the next 10 years, unless I am stricken with some physical ailment that takes me sooner. I was talking to Jenny about this, and she said she is also ready to commit suicide as soon as she can no longer take care of herself or live alone. It makes me upset to know she feels the exact same way I feel because I wouldn't wish these feelings on anyone. However, it is also nice to know I'm not alone.

Until then...

[thatbipolargirl]

6-10-2022

I think it would feel cathartic to kill someone. Not anyone in particular, and certainly not anyone close to me (although I have a few cousins I wouldn't mind offing). I get these kind of intrusive thoughts a lot. I have a feeling that one day in the future I will have a psychotic break and actually murder someone. It is both a fulfilling yet scary thought. How do you plan the perfect murder anyway? I have lots of ideas, but I'm not going to share them on here. This writing may one day be used in court against me.

I want to get a bone saw and an ice cream scoop. I want to saw the top back right side of my skull open and scoop out the brain matter in that area. That's where all of my crazy thoughts come from -- the top back right side of my brain. They are all concentrated in that one single area. I hate it. I wish I had the guts to actually do this. It would probably turn me into a vegetable though, so for now the bone saw sits and waits on my shopping list. Maybe before I use it on myself, I'd use it on someone else. See what the effects are on them as a little experiment. Might be a smart idea.

I keep having visions of different family members laying on a cold, hard, steel morgue table. The person I see most is my niece, Allison. I don't know why this is, but I wish I did. Perhaps it is my obsession with death and dying.

All of these thoughts make it very difficult to live day-by-day. I keep trying to hang on, but I know that suicide date in the future is sure as hell approaching a lot faster nowadays. Life is so fucking pointless anyway. The meaning of life is that there is no meaning. We are all just random stardust floating around on this planet until one day we are returned to the stars. And I'm not talking anything like heaven. I'm talking about a black hole swallowing up the earth in a billion years, and taking with it any traces of the fact that we humans ever even existed.

Lucas in the morgue. Allison. My mom. Jeremy. I can see them all. They are lying there, motionless, with a light blue sheet up to their chest. Most have wet hair, except for Jeremy who is, of course, bald. Their lips are all pale and their skin sort of matches the color of the sheet.

My 47th birthday is in eleven days. I asked Jeremy for an ice cream scoop. I didn't tell him why.

[thatbipolargirl]

6-2-2022

I love making lists, and I always have. Lists of every kind: shopping lists (separated by store or website); things I need to do; places I need to go; bills that need to be paid; lists of things I need to clean, organize and do around the house; emergency supply inventory; packing lists for upcoming trips; lists of shows I need to watch, books to read, podcasts to listen to, websites to visit; separate lists for questions and comments for every doctor I see; lists of medications I'm on, medications my mom is on, medications Jeremy is on; past surgeries; lists of politicians that will be on my next ballot, what they are running for and important notes about each one; and many, many other lists. If you can make a list for something, chances are I already have one. I am a bit obsessive-compulsive about making lists, and I find it extremely gratifying when I complete a list, delete something off of one of my to-do lists or update a list that needs something changed. My sister, Angela, likes to make lists too, but I don't think she has as many as I do. I'll have to talk to her about this soon.

I don't have anything to do today except clean and organize my house (and cross a few things off of those lists). Tomorrow I have an appointment with my endocrinologist, then I have therapy, then I'm meeting on of the ASA girls, Skyla Hamilton, for lunch at Panera. I also get paid tomorrow, so I've got bills to pay and things to buy (cross a few things off of those lists as well). Saturday I am going to Hermann with my mom, my sisters and two of my nieces, Callie and Cassidy. We are going wine tasting at several of the wineries in Hermann, with Callie and Cass being our designated drivers. We are spending the night in Columbia because every bed & breakfast in Hermann was either booked or extremely expensive (like over $500 for one night. We are staying at Wyndham by Wingate, which is a very nice hotel. It has a indoor pool and hot tub, a nice outdoor smoking area and free breakfast including make-your-own waffles (which I love). Jeremy and I stayed in a suite at that hotel in April for his birthday for several nights. Sunday we will go shopping in Columbia. They have a very nice mall there. I also want to go to Kohl's and Hallmark (let me add both of those to a list). Kohl's sent me an email advertising a bunch of Pride jewelry, so I want to get some things for Addie and I to wear in September at St. Joseph Pridefest.

Our electricity was out yesterday for about three hours. Apparently a vehicle struck a pole with a transformer at 23rd and Messanie, and it knocked out power to about 8800 homes and businesses. I was fine for about two hours. Then it got extremely hot in the house and my phone was about dead, so I decided to go for a car ride in the air conditioning and also charge my phone whilst doing so. I just went in my pajamas sans bra. I ended up going to Scooter's (way better than Starbucks IMO), and then I was on my way back home to get dressed so I could run a few errands when Jeremy texted me that the power was back on. So I got home and stayed. Those errands will have to wait until tomorrow or next week. One thing I really need to do is get an oil change. My maintenance required light has been on for several weeks now, and it is driving me crazy.

I am going to end this for now. My Adderall is kicking in, and I have so many things to cross off of my cleaning and organizing lists.

Until then...

[thatbipolargirl]

5-31-2022

I have an appointment with the pain clinic today here in town. My hips have really been hurting the last few weeks because of my bursitis. I don't want to drive to Macon any longer to go to the pain clinic there, so I had my records transferred here. I really hope they approve me for steroid shots because that is the only thing that really helps. Friday I have an appointment with my endocrinologist for my diabetes. I had to get blood tests last week so he would have them in preparation for my appointment. I am nervous about my A1C number. I hope it has gone down, but I don't really know. We shall see. I also have an appointment with my therapist on Friday. She couldn't get me in any sooner this week, so I'm trying to hold on until then. Jeremy suggested I go to the Mayo Clinic, and when I messaged my mom and sisters about it, they all agreed it was a good idea. I honestly don't want to, but that may be my only option at this point besides my psychiatrist's advice that I either do ECT or Sprayvado (ketamine). Both of those are things I am not willing to do. As far as ECT, I have enough memory loss as it is, and I don't want it to get worse. Plus it just still seems so barbaric even though it is a lot more sanitized nowadays. When it comes to Sprayvado, I have a lot of issues with being high. I can't hardly even drink alcohol anymore because I don't like feeling that I'm not in control. It is the same with marijuana, even medical marijuana. No thanks. I have enough medication that messes with my brain, I don't need to add anything else. Just thinking about doing drugs, even if they are legal, gives me great anxiety. My 47th birthday is in three weeks, and Jeremy has a week off of work, so if I do decide to go to Mayo, that would be the ideal time. Being hospitalized is also incredibly anxiety-inducing because I know I can't smoke. How many people with a serious mental illness smoke? Most of them it seems. And then "the powers that be" create and build mental hospitals where smoking isn't allowed anywhere on campus, even outside. It is literally one of the dumbest things ever.

It is storming outside right now, and it is mirroring how I feel on the inside. I'm just so over being sick. I know there are no cures for bipolar disorder or anxiety or OCD, but even after being "officially" diagnosed over 25 years ago, I still have a very difficult time accepting that. I would give anything to not have the words "mental illness" be one of the first thoughts I have when I wake up or one of the last thoughts I have while falling asleep. It runs and ruins my life. Just the very thought is disabling to me. It is a struggle every single day to live, although I don't know if you can call what I do "living." I mostly just hide away in my house where I feel safe. Well, at least safer than being out in the real world.

I want to talk about how crippling my OCD can be. I don't wash my hands incessantly or obsess about germs like most people with OCD are portrayed by the media. Mainly, my OCD has to do with numbers. I count everything, and anything that has to do with the number six is not "good." And it isn't just the number six alone, it is any number that is a multiple of six or can be divided evenly by six or if added together equals six, etc. Let me explain this a little bit. One, 2, 3, 4 and 5 are okay. Six, of course, is not. Seven, 8, 9, 10 and 11 are okay. Twelve is not because 6 plus 6 is twelve. Thirteen and 14 are okay. Fifteen is not because 1 plus 5 is 6. Sixteen is not okay because it has a 6 in it. Seventeen is not because 7 minus 1 is six. Eighteen is not because 6 plus 6 plus 6 is 18. Nineteen, 20, 21, 22 are okay. Twenty-three is not because 2 times 3 is six. Twenty-four is not because 2 plus 4 is six. (also it is a multiple of six). Twenty-five is okay. Twenty-six is not because it contains a six. Twenty-seven is okay, but twenty-eight is not because 8 minus 2 is six. Twenty-nine is not because 2 times 9 is 18, which is a multiple of six. Thirty is not because it is a multiple of six. Thirty-one is okay. Thirty-two is not because 3 times 2 is six. Thirty-three is not because 3 plus 3 is six. Thirty-four is not because 3 times 4 is six. Thirty-five is not because 3 times 5 is 15, which equals six when 1 and 5 are added together. Thirty-six is not. Thirty seven is okay. Thirty-eight is not because 3 times 8 equals 24 which can be added together to equal six. Thirty-nine is not because 9 minus 3 equals six. Forty is okay. i'll stop there. This is my life. Television or radio volume, the number of ice cubes in my glass, the number of cigarette butts in my ashtray before I empty it, the speed I drive, the amount of gas I put in my car, the number I count to when I'm deep breathing, etc, etc, etc. I would, however, like to mention I consider the number six to be lucky when I am gambling. I know that makes zero sense at all, but that is how my brain works. Another thing I obsess about is how many items I buy when I'm shopping. Of course, I can't buy six of anything, but I also can't just buy one of anything. I constantly worry about running out of things I need. Oh, and I love two-packs of things! I will purposely spend more if an item comes in a two-pack. My husband hates going shopping with me or finding out I spent way more than I probably should have buying two of everything. I literally panic if I get low on something at home -- hairspray, vitamins, ketchup, cream cheese, deodorant, cat food, toilet paper (you can thank me for helping with the toilet paper shortage during COVID), and especially cigarettes. I will have a panic attack if I am low on cigarettes. Seriously. I hide cigarette packs all over the house so I purposely don't run out. I even have some in my emergency backpack (in case there's a fire or tornado or whatever). I also obsess about that -- emergencies. I'm constantly buying emergency supplies. I am prepared for most emergencies, which is actually a good thing, but not when I obsess over it. And I can get very obsessive over it. I don't really want to write about it right now because just talking about the number six has given me great big balls of anxiety in my stomach and throat. Perhaps I should go gambling. Ha.

Until then...

[thatbipolargirl]

5-30-2022

I know I haven't written in awhile, but life has gotten in the way. My Aunt Rita died on Tuesday, May 3rd at 1:04 in the morning after a short battle with pancreatic cancer. My Uncle Jim died of the same thing in 2008, so it could possibly be hereditary. Aunt Rita didn't suffer much, not nearly as much as Uncle Jim. Either way though, pancreatic cancer is an absolutely horrific way to die. My mom has been having severe pain underneath her left shoulder since the day of Aunt Rita's funeral on May 6th. It got so serious, she even went to the ER in Brookfield on Monday, May 9th thinking she was having a heart attack. The pain radiates around her side, so that is why she thought it was her heart. It wasn't thankfully. At first they thought it was gallstones, which she does have, but now they think it is arthritis. I was worried it was pancreatic cancer because that can cause all kinds of weird symptoms, but I think they've ruled that out. She is supposed to have an MRI of her back (and also an Upper GI for the gallstones). They did an ultrasound of the gallstones several weeks ago, but the doctor said it wasn't causing her pain. He said the biggest one was about 3/4 of an inch big, but it isn't blocking anything such as the bile duct, and a person generally only has pain if they start to move or if they are blocking a duct. So hopefully we will find out answers after her MRI. I'm worried about her, and I hate it that she's in any kind of pain whatsoever. Sometimes the pain gets so bad she can't sleep, which is just awful.

Addie had her baby on April 14th. It is a little boy and his name is Ashton Luke. He's thriving and seems to be such a sweet baby. We went to a Women's Rally in Maryville at the Nodaway County Courthouse on May 14th, and I got to hold him for a little while. It is so wonderful to cradle such an innocent soul and think about all the possibilities for him throughout his (hopefully) very long life. The reason they held the rally was because the US Supreme Court is about to overturn Roe v. Wade, which scares the hell out of me! I personally won't be affected, but millions and millions of women in this country will be, including all three of my nieces. I can't believe women are still fighting after 50 years of Roe being basically settled law. However, more than half of the states have been chipping away at reproductive rights since Roe was won, including Missouri. I literally don't know what to do to help women in the US, so I went to the rally and donated to both NARAL and Planned Parenthood. It would be nice to become a member of some kind of underground railroad for women seeking abortion, but as of now I haven't been made aware of one since abortion is still legal in most states at least for the next month when SCOTUS officially delivers their decision. Oh, also I donate to the Missouri Abortion Fund through Amazon Smile, so every purchase I make on Amazon goes to them. It is just pennies on the dollar for each transaction, but a little is better than nothing.

There have been a lot of mass shootings lately, the most recent one being at an elementary school in Uvalde, Texas. Nineteen nine, ten and eleven year olds were killed, along with two teachers. Now gun control is the main topic of the news, and the gun rights advocates are screaming "Second Amenement" at the top of their lungs, while others are screaming for stricter gun laws. All I know is that it is truly scary that I (yes, me) can buy a gun legally in Missouri even with all of my mental health issues. It should not be this way. I have literally had panic attacks thinking about me having a psychotic break, purchasing a gun (or guns) and shooting up a public place. It scares me to death that I could do something like that. It just isn't right that guns have more rights in the United States of America than women do. It makes me sick to my stomach to think that, but it is true.

I started to see a new therapist (yes, again). I think she is my 37th therapist I've had in my life. Her name is Ada Silvey, and she is 80 years old. I thought that would be a problem, but the woman is very sharp and remembers, in detail, every single thing I tell her. My worry now is that she will die after we make good progress, and then I will have to start all over again with a new therapist. Also, I've had recent visions of her dying during an actual session with me, which is scary as hell. She's been quite helpful so far, teaching me a new breathing technique and assisting me with my intrusive thoughts about death and dying and killing other people. I have been both suicidal and homicidal lately. That's why I started therapy again in the first place. I told Dr. Harden about the intrusive thoughts, and all he did was up my Zyprexa from 30mg to 45mg, which took away (most) of the intrusive thoughts, but took away most of my other thoughts as well. I felt like a catatonic zombie for a few days, but I stopped taking the extra Zyprexa, and now I'm feeling a bit better. The intrusive thoughts are back, but they aren't as bad as they were...yet. I need to find a new psychiatrist in St. Joe. Driving to Kirksville is such a pain in the ass. Especially for a fifteen minute appointment that could have been done over the phone. Dr. Harden does allow me to do every other session over the phone, which is nice, but it is harder to tell him the truth when I'm not looking him in the eyes. And I need to be very truthful about these suicidal and homicidal thoughts so I don't become a danger to myself or others. I seriously wish there was a hotline for homicidal thoughts, just like there are suicide hotlines. I'm sure there are many others like me, and that I am not the only one to have these thoughts.

I haven't talked to David in almost two months. He told me another outrageous lie about being raped, and I just quit communicating. I also think he has been talking to Jeanette or another woman while he's talking to me because he sent me a text that wasn't meant for me. I'm sick and tired of his lies -- muggings, hospitalizations, the murder of his best friend and now rape. Not to mention his constant lying about working or looking for work and his lies about drinking. I think I finally got him out of my system, and that there is no way he can redeem himself in my eyes. I have been struggling internally with the existence of fate and soulmates and twin souls since we quit talking. He fucked up what little faith I had in this universe, and now everything just seems so damn random, with no meaning at all when it comes to the big picture of everything. Fuck past lives and future lives and parallel lives. This life is all we get. That's it. End of fucking list. Also, fuck him for destroying my fragile faith. Alcoholic asshole who in no way is amazing to me anymore. I'm done. Finished. He can live out his miserable fucking existence without me, and I hope he suffers every single day for the rest of his life.

Something positive -- I am going to Hermann/Columbia with my mom, Holly, Angela, Callie and Cassidy this weekend. We are touring several wineries in Hermann on Saturday, then spending the night in Columbia and shopping there the next day. The one winery I really wanted to go to is closed for the weekend because of a family wedding. It is the Adam Puchta winery, and I think it is his son (or maybe grandson) that is getting married on the property. The other wineries we are for sure going to are Stone Hill and Hermannhoff. I'm glad Callie and Cass are going so they can drive our drunk asses around! Ha! With as rarely as I drink, I'm sure two glasses of wine will have me lit up like fireworks.

Jeremy hurt his back the other day, and it really frustrates me. He really needs to find a doctor here in town as soon as fucking possible. I'm sure he needs refills on his metformin, and he definitely needs blood tests for his diabetes. I don't even know the last time he had his A1C checked. Or his cholesterol. And now that he's over 40, he needs to start having a prostate exam once a year. Part of the contributing factors to my father's death was prostate cancer, and I'm not losing my husband to something that can so easily be detected and treated. Also, he needs to get a referral to the pain clinic so they can treat his back. No more fucking excuses about it being too expensive either. He has the money, he just doesn't like to spend it on anything that isn't food or video games. But this is his health, and like it or not, he's going to get healthcare or I'm going to go insane.

It is just now 6:30am, and I've already written a small novel today. I'm a little manic from not taking the extra Zyprexa last night. I fell asleep around 11:30 and then Boxxy woke me up at 4:00 this morning. I've got so much shit on my to-do list that I need to end this for now and get fucking busy.

Until then...

[thatbipolargirl]

01-29-2022

Today is Cassidy's 15th birthday. Last night was Brashear's Homecoming game and dance, and she won Homecoming Princess! I am so very proud. What a wonderful birthday present for her!

Lucas' birthday is next Wednesday, the 2nd, but he has to work that day. So Jeremy and I are going to KC on Tuesday to take him out for a late lunch/early dinner. Hopefully Holly and Terry can go, too. They will be back from the Dominican Republic Sunday.

My mom's birthday is Monday, the 7th, which is the day we leave for Las Vegas. I think I'm going to order flowers for her. My cousin, Kelsy has been trying to set up a flower shop in Brookfield, so I can get them through her. If not, I can get some in Chillicothe on my way to Brookfield on Wednesday, the 2nd. I have two doctors appointments on Thursday (one in Macon and one in Kirksville) that day, so I'm spending the night with Mom on Wednesday so I don't have to drive so far Thursday morning. Also, one of my best friends, Cindy, will be in town, so we are going to dinner Wednesday evening. I'm sure we will go to Helm Street because that is sort of "our place." When we both lived in town, we'd go at least twice a week together. Now Cindy lives in Florida. She moved in April of 2020, right during the middle of the pandemic (exactly something she would do...haha). I miss her so very much. Her mom is not doing well heath wise. She had to be life-flighted to Columbia the other day, and they are putting a defibrillator in her heart. So anyway, Cindy and her husband came to Missouri to be here for her. I'm really looking forward to seeing her! She always grounds me when I'm feeling like I'm floating and out of touch. She has bipolar disorder, too, so she knows most of what I'm going through.

I had really bad anxiety yesterday, and a bunch of intrusive thoughts and visions. I took two Ativan, but they didn't really help, so I took two more and also two Benadryl. I finally calmed down and got a really good night's sleep. One of the visions I kept having was of all the tendons and ligaments and sac surrounding my heart with a knife trying to cut through. Then, I kept seeing myself laying on a table in a morgue. After that, I was having visions of blood being splashed and smeared all over a roadway. It sort of reminded me of the blood splashing out of the elevator in "The Shining." In between all of those, I kept seeing faces of my family while they were laying in a morgue as well. I also kept having bad thoughts about my family and friends, like wishing they were dead, when that is actually the very last thing I truly want. I really, really need a therapist. Something to stop these visions and thoughts. They are just plain awful, and I absolutely cannot do anything else while I'm having them. I should write some of the thoughts down so I can release the control and power over my mind and put it on paper, but that scares the shit out of me. I think by doing that, it may have an opposite effect and give the thoughts more power and make them real. I hate my brain. I really do. Sometimes I wish I could cut open my head and scoop my brains out. Literally.

It is cold in here and I have to pee. Until then...