Wake up in this world with no pain

Ever feel like a failure?

That’s how I feel when I get things wrong and people can see.

That’s how I feel when I send a company wide email without an attachment.

Then send it again with the wrong information. Some my fault, some others.

Big company.




Unfit for duty, soldier.

So I woke up with a good ol’ auto-immune disorder flare-up. Definitely triggered by stress as I’d worked on the same 2 issues with my boss ALL day and still had no resolution. I left an hour late and actually told him, “I’ve corrected and reviewed the documents a FIFTH time. I’m seriously done.” He fell out laughing. He didn’t think it was as big of a deal that I’d clouded people’s boxes as much as I had. He told me I did a good job.

I didn’t believe a word of it.

And now my entire body is aching in pain.

I want to call in so bad, but a soldier doesn’t stop marching just because of a little rain.


I have no idea why I’m crying right now.

It’s really not my problem. It’s not.

It feels like my problem, but it’s not.

I’m shocked and angry I guess.

The hubs graduates from college today. He’s a late bloomer, true, but I’m proud of him nonetheless. Its been a hell of a ride, but he finally did it. He joined my dad’s old fraternity and they’re having a special ceremony for friends and family before the big walkathon with all the caps and gowns and such. My dad is super jazzed about this and so is the hubs. My dad even made a few calls to the head of the regional pooh bah (or something) so he can knight the hubs (or whatever). He’s so excited. They have this bond that’s very… well I wish I’d been given an opportunity to have that bond with my dad too. I guess it’s too difficult for him to connect with me; he’d have to get to know me and maybe even feel something (heaven forbid).

Anyway, this was scheduled weeks ago. Over a month. The hubs’s father won’t come because I will be there. I wouldn’t miss my husband’s graduation – are you kidding me? The hubs says he doesn’t mind because his father has missed all of his other milestone events, so it’s no big deal.

Ok. Yet another free pass given to the man who doesn’t deserve one. But Goddess help me if my mood isn’t just so when he comes home from work. The man is manipulative, disrespectful and selfish to a fault yet when I’m cycling (like I am now), I’m the cunt and I’m the one that gets an attitude adjustment. Ok. As long as we know where I stand in relation to the man.

I get up this morning to find out that Hubs’s brother, the perpetual waif, will also not be joining us. He forgot he had a doctor’s appointment.

This was scheduled weeks ago. You don’t work, you don’t do anything but loaf around the house (and sometimes public) in your goddamn pajamas. You watch copious amounts of television, play Xbox live and surf the internet. You mean to tell me this asshole couldn’t reschedule their appointment for another day? A day that their doing, you know, absolutely butt-fucking nothing?! They had dinner together earlier this week. You mean to tell me the subject never came up?! I call bullshit!

Again, Hubs says it’s no big deal. He plans to go onto higher learning and says his brother can attend that graduation.

His whole fucking family just decided they weren’t coming. Like he wasn’t important enough to make time for. His piece of shit father would rather stand up on (PATENTLY FALSE) principle rather than see his son graduate. His stupid fucking brother isn’t smart enough to have rescheduled his doctor’s appointment for some (likely) imaginary goddamned disease (I swear, it’s likely for acne or jock itch or something – you know, something that could wait until next week) than show up and support his brother. It’s disgusting. But watch, they’ll go out to dinner next week, like they have been every week, as though nothing is wrong.

Because Hubs is like a battered wife. He can get treated any old fucking way and stays. He allows the treatment, doesn’t speak up and lets ESPECIALLY the man manipulate and use him. He defends and won’t leave the man because of his station in Hubs’s life. He’s his only parent and the man knows it. The man takes full advantage of that and attempts to manipulate everyone around him. He couldn’t control me and I wouldn’t allow him to control my mother which is why we don’t speak. I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again, the next time I plan on seeing that man is when he’s laying in a pine box. You get what you give and he will receive nothing more from me. He doesn’t realize (or care) about how much he’s affecting the Hubs with his actions. He’s the most ignorant and selfish piece of fucking garbage I’ve ever laid eyes on. That’s saying something considering I work in a literal prison. And his brother is just fucking dizzy.

The way they treat Hubs makes me sick. It’s interesting: I banned my mother from our wedding because she disapproved of our getting married. Despite our many, many difficulties she has always been my best friend. It killed a piece of my soul to do that. A daughter usually wants her mother to be there for those sorts of things. But she cut me when she said she disapproved and would do everything in her power to stop my getting married. I knew he was my soulmate and I couldn’t risk it. I’ve spent the last several years trying to prove to her she was wrong about him and wrong on that day. She’s definitely come around and she’ll be there today.

So it’s just my parents, me and my youngest of sisters. Just us. My kin. We’re coming. Because we care. We give a heck. We always will. It’s a goddamn shame that my husband’s family has no idea what that means when you really need them to or it has fuck all to do with them.

But, again, if I huff and puff about something because the bottom drops out of my mood – I’m the asshole. Let’s not forget. Alice is the mealy cunt because she can’t reign in her moods. There’s this expectation of me but not one of the man or brother. It’s absolutely unbelievable. I’m held to a higher standard for what? They’re held to a lower standard because “they’ve always been this way?” Are you kidding me? Like I haven’t?! The man has always been a cocksucker who sees invisible people under his car (but I’m mentally unstable, folks) and the brother has always been forgetful and effectively useless.

“Well you weren’t like this when we were kids.”

… Because we weren’t close when we were kids. I kept my depression, anger and anxiety to myself. And they couldn’t diagnose kids with that back then. I was just “depressed.” But believe me, I was like this. Just unmedicated. Boy was I fun to be around. Ask my mother.

Use your fist and not your mouth

Holy fuck my skin is crawling and I just feel like breaking shit.

Goddess make it stop. I just want it to stop. I want to stop feeling out of control. I can always tell when I’m about to have an episode – I don’t feel like myself; I don’t feel real. My body actually starts to tingle. That was a few days ago on the drive home from work. This is the longest I’ve had an episode. Please Goddess make it fucking stop.

I’m exhausted from trying to keep it all together.

don’t touch the sleeping pills/they mess with my head

I’m trying really hard not to have a moment here.

I’m at my second job, in my office, trying not to cry. I’m trying to keep myself from isolating, trying to stay active.

Everyone goddamn sucks.

I feel it all coming to a screeching halt.

The anger, the irritability. The mania is ending. I was horny all fucking week but the husband was so tired from work all he could do was come home, eat and sleep. He’d be snoring before he hit the pillow. Now I’m aggravated because I can hear the leaves blowing outside.

Here. We. Go.

So, do I get points for fucking trying here?! I’m trying to not kick people in the throat. My big sister/best friend cancelled her trip to come and visit me from California – didn’t bother to tell me, just mentioned it in passing on Facebook to a mutual friend. Did I overreact and kick her in the throat? No. But I wanted to.

When the nurse at work insinuated that was lying yesterday and my boss wanted to have a meeting confronting her lying ass (because there was proof she was a lying little turd), did I kick the nurse’s teeth in? No. I had other shit to do. I’m not saying I should be rewarded for behavior that’s expected but it’s especially difficult to not fly off the handle when I’m hypomanic. When I’m at the tail end of it, I’m worse. This is when I typically want any and everything that breathes to… not.

…You know what? I want to go am going out tonight. I wanted to go out because TV does nothing for this anger. It does nothing to work out this mania. I wanted to do something constructive or at least entertaining.

But everyone goddamn sucks.

So I’m going alone.

Wake up Jack this isn’t fair

I can tell something’s wrong.

My meds aren’t right.

Or I’m not right.

Or skipping my meds last night because I overate wasn’t right; I was nauseous.

I get nauseous from my gallstone meds every time I take them – which is, unfortunately twice a day. If I don’t take them, I’ll develop gallstones again which I can definitely do without.

I want to kick and scream. I just have this urge to flail my legs and scream at the top of my lungs. No, I don’t have a reason. At least I don’t think I do.

The husband came home late from visiting his brother and father. He went straight to sleep. I have no cause for being upset. I spend every other night with him. What is my flipping problem?

But this isn’t that.

This is chemical. This is psychiatric.

It’s been 20 minutes and the feeling has minimally subsided.

I wanna shake him and wake him up. Not for any particular reason; just to say hi.

And I can’t fucking sleep. Countdown to work in 6 hours. This is what my mind is like when I’m hypomanic. Did I mention I scoured my bathtub, scrubbed the toilet, disinfected the sink, windexed the mirror, emptied the trash in the bedroom and bathroom and did the dishes? This place was fucking filthy and I couldn’t stand looking at it anymore.

…Yeah – it’s Xanax time. My mind is reeling and…

…Fuck now I’m texting my friend about marching in a protest on Saturday. Christ on a crutch what is this?

And shit the ice machine is making noise.

Why is my mind doing this.

Goddamn motherfucking fibromyalgia flare-up: my legs are on fire and my arms would feel better if someone ripped them the hell off.

At least I can brush my teeth from a clean sink tomorrow.

Oh my Goddess ALICE go to sleep.

You won’t try for me – not now

Saw my dad this weekend.

He was on his way to work and was entertaining guests at this party I was voluntold to attend, so I spend all of 20 minutes with him.

So I literally saw him. And that was the end of it.

My husband gets chorded next month – some graduation ceremony as a part of this thing he’s doing. My dad is a part of this frat, so my dad wants to chord him. He made a huge deal about it on the phone.

To me.

I don’t know. Since my dad has deemed my brother the forever fuck-up, I guess this is his chance to have a son.

Let’s not talk about the two daughters he’s forgotten about. Ah – incorrect: just me because I’m childfree. The other brought him a grandchild and now serves a purpose.

The therapist says it’s easier for my father to have a relationship with my husband than it is to have one with me. I’m a reminder of his failures. I come with strings.

No. Not an excuse. I’m aggravated that I’m still a porcelain doll. A toy. I sit on the shelf, collecting dust until he’s ready to play dad. When he’s done, back to the shelf I go until next time. It’s been like that since I was a kid.

I’ve quickly gone from hopeful Raggedy Ann, waiting and waiting, to a haunted and angry Annabelle. Mellowing in my old age I think I’ve settled on a pissed off Tiffany.

But this doll is aging.

This doll is old.

This doll is tired.

…This doll isn’t a fucking doll at all.