Learning to let go, or deal with the Raptor’s…….

My Mental Fuckery Blog:

I have been the type of person who has held grudges, or just simply can not let go of things in the past.  Things I’m too ashamed of to even allow my public readers to know about.  Some skeletons are meant to stay in the closet.  Why do we choose where the fuck our skeletons are anyway?  Who ever came up with “skeletons in the closet” must have been a very secluded person that I imagine had a lot of closets in his home, and perhaps spent too much fuck’n time in them.  Hmmm………I think I prefer “my skeletons in the attic”; its a bit more creepier that way.  Well anyway, what I can not let go, weighs me down, gets my teacups spinning, and consumes me with depression.

I’m coming down from a manic mode of my Bipolar.  I want to cry, but some how I’m not even motivated enough to do that.  My anxiety was crazy last week………..like off the fuck’n charts crazy.  James and I have been considering finding another home to rent.  I found this really cute place out in the country, nice yard, and right on a lake.  It’s an older house, I think built back in the 70’s.  We did a drive by, people are still living and renting there until February, and it is definitely out in the boonies (“boonies”……..I’ll have to check if that’s really a word in the dictionary, or a made up word that actually means “you are out in a place where no one will find your damn house, you have to travel 20 miles to get groceries and you better stock the fuck up on them” type of thing.  Okay, back to my story…………so the place has no garage, and that’s a HUGE downfall for James.  He has so many tools and those big thingy’s that he unorganizably puts his shit in.  Yes I’m quite aware that “unorganizably is not a word, but it is now.  He reminds me so much of my father.  He loves to tinker with mechanical shit.  After my dad passed I inherited his antique truck, and James has just had a field day with that thing.  And what he’s done to it, I know my dad is probably spiritually with him thinking, “What the fuck are you doing that for, there was a perfectly good reason I had those wires like that”, but I also imagine he has been extremely proud that James has put so much heart and passion into that truck.

Fuck, I keep getting a bit off topic.  The place I really like has a very small shed in the back; which I completely doubt he could fit all his mechanic toys and thingy’s.  He tells me we can get one of those carports and it would be fine.  Then he says……..”The biggest downfall of living here is that I would be further away from Sarra (his daughter) when it comes time to have her for the weekends”.  That was something I wasn’t even thinking about.  So I felt more depressed for him and for the fact that I knew it just really wouldn’t work out living there. In a way, I suppose I was just being selfish about it. We still, for whatever reason, want to make an appointment to see the inside of this very quaint house out in the middle of the fuck’n boonies.  I dunno………just adds another teacup in my mental fuckery mind.

I’m learning that not being able to let go, but being strong enough to tell others too, depresses me more than usual when I think about certain things.  So many regrets, which I know we all have, but regrets that have hurt people and done some serious damage on relationships.  You know as I’m typing this, my shit for brain teacups are spinning rapidly.  In a couple of my past blogs, I would mention that “depression lies”, but now my question is, does it make us lie?  I think it does, at least for me at times.  If there is anything to blame for that, its that fear I live behind…………you know, like the telephobia shit.

I’m lacking a lot of motivation today, and somehow have to manage to get out of my pajama’s and get out of the house to get some things done.  I’m very depressed and so sad that I have told a few lies in the recent past, I dunno, 2-3 weeks now.  Not bad or huge lies, but still, a lie is a lie.  These to I will have a hard time letting go of.  Guess I will just put those skeletons in my attic for now.  Shit………why must they be skeletons?  How about one, or many, of those Raptors………you know those dinosaurs in the movie “JURASIC PARK”?  They are mean as shit, so why would anyone want to go up into their attic to let something go?  Yep………..we are not dealing with fuck’n skeletons here people……….we have carnivorous living Raptor’s, with teeth the size of your damn arm.  I guess some things are just meant to stay right where you put them in the first place.  Learn to forget about them if you can, and just move on.

Toodles ((peace sign))


Or maybe against those fuck’n Raptors!!!! :-p

Marriage and mental illness……….

My Mental Fuckery Blog:

Marriage can be hard enough for “normal” people, but when a spouse has mental fuckery’s hangin out with them, it’s fuck’n tough.  This is my first marriage and his second, and I have a feeling this marriage is harder than his first.  Well after the “honeymoon” phase we and every new couple go through.  My husband is a good man, and one that you can only find once in a life time.  I mean sure he can frustrate the hell outta me, and then I think to myself, that’s nothing compared to what my mental fuckery’s are doing to him.  Ever since I unlocked the depression and didn’t hide it anymore, got diagnosed with Bipolar 1 disorder with severe anxiety disorder, things changed.  And than there came the meds, and a lot of them.  He was worried that the drugs would some how effect my whole personality, and I assured him they wouldn’t………….well I fucked up on that statement.  The drugs have made me a bit different, I can feel it.  Sometimes better and sometimes worse.  My libido has gone down the fuck’n drain…….and who the fuck knows where that drain took my libido.  I know it’s killing my husband inside about what we are dealing with.  Most married couples argue about bills, leaving caps off the toothpaste, not putting the toilet seat down after taking a piss (somehow they always manage to get some piss on the rim of the toilet seat when they have a large enough hole to not miss, even when they are shaking their wankers), house cleaning, etc…  We have never argued about any of that.  We share duties as best as we can, but the one duty that is probably the one HUGE downfall that we have is my mental fuckery communication.  Even prior to this diagnosis I sucked at communicating, but it’s worse now.  He tries to talk to me about things, but I just raise my hand silently (and sometimes not so silent) to tell him I don’t want to talk about it.  He’s the toucher and I’m the pusher.  And what I mean by that is that he is very lovey dovey (who came up with that fuck’n line “lovey dovey” anyway?), and I’m the one that is completely the opposite.  He loves to cuddle and kiss, and I shoo him away like he’s some kind of virus that is going to attack my system.  What kind of shit is that?  But keep in mind I have pretty much always been that way.  I suppose growing up in a non-affectionate house can do it’s damage in the long run.  He’s doing everything he can to understand this mental fuckery shit, and I truly applaud him for that.  He even made a phone call about these meetings they have for spouses living with someone with Bipolar or any mental illness.  I have yet to dial that number to go to meetings myself.  Gotta love that fuck’n telephobia I have (fuck’n rattles my teacups too much, too much thinkin about that then this than 4 more things and 18 more things). 

I’m a bit worried, okay A LOT worried this shit is either going to break us or make us stronger in some kind of way.  I sometimes think he’s better off without me and all this chemical fuck’n imbalances I go through.  I’m pushing him away to the point that at some moment he’s gonna let go.  And I honestly wouldn’t blame him.  I do love him deeply, I just have a very hard time showing it. 

As for how I’m doing with my illness………well I suppose the drugs are doning their thing……..like clogging my drain to the point of giving myself an enema last night.  I know, to much info……..deal with it………y’all know my mouth is unfiltered on here.  But shit (no pun intended), I was having horrible abdominal cramps last night and pretty much intermittenly through the night.  Had to call out of work this morning due to that, and well, how depressed I was and am.  At least I brought  a flashlight with me for all the darkness that depression can bring me.

On a brighter note (due to my flashlight of course……..keep up with me people), my husband (James)……..(why haven’t I just used his fuck’n name to begin with?)…………..anyway, me and James got a membership at a fitness center and even have a trainer that will work with us once a week and then give us some fucked up exercise shit to try and kill us.  Well I’m obviously still alive, and doing this together helps the both of us stay motivated.

I got a new tattoo last week (1/29/15) and fuck’n love it.  It’s a reminder that through all this bullshit and fucked up brain chemistry that does horrible things to me, my story isn’t over yet.  As debilitating as this Bipolar shit can be, I will keep up the battle as best that I can.

To all you fucked up people with mental fuckery’s like me……….WE ARE NOT ALONE!!

Toodles ((peace sign))