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.

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.

Though I’d die to know you love me/I’m all alone

I can’t do it. I fucking can’t.

I was set on a task by my therapist to talk to my father about my feelings and I just cannot do it.

It’s not that I don’t want to try to make my relationship work with my dad, it’s that I truly know my dad and I know that I’d be setting myself up for humiliation and pain.

As much as I understand the concept of vulnerability, some things are just too much. Some things I’ve fought too hard for. I’ve fought too hard for him to see me at all. I feel like asking him to acknowledge my pain would set me back into being his tiny little girl again. The little girl he cast aside and had no interest in raising. While he has little interest in getting to know the woman I’ve become, it’s more than the girl I was.

He called yesterday, out of the fucking blue. He called asking for my advice on some family matters. He typically only calls when he wants something, even if it’s just to pick my brain because of my eXpErTiSe in the field.

…Or to speak to my husband.

I want a better relationship but I just can’t splay my feelings out on the floor for him to tap dance on.

Because he will.

Because he has.

So here I stay, stuck in the corner, watching time go by. Watching him age faster and me become more resentful of the choices he’s made that have affected our lives.

Why can’t I just let it all fucking go?

Perfect by nature

I’m unsure how to keep functioning in a 9-5 setting with the overwhelming emotions I have. I’m working in the setting I’ve always imagined myself, but even after several months, the pressure is becoming too intense. I don’t know if it’s my perfectionism or that the expectations are truly insurmountable. When I try my best, I still forgot to dot an “I” or cross a “T.” I’m not used to being micromanaged – I’m used to being either my own boss or being left to my own devices, figuring it out on my own and having it all come together in the 11th hour. Having extreme anxiety like I do makes it very difficult for me to be micromanaged. With someone looking over my shoulder, I make more mistakes.

I’ve never been reprimanded at work before. Ever. By anyone. Before today.

I was reprimanded twice.

This doesn’t happen to me.

I was following a directive and was later reprimanded for not following another directive because I was following the first one given to me. My boss gave less than 2 shits about my apology, no matter how honest and sincere it truly was.

I was reprimanded in a group email by a higher ranking team member. Instead of talking to me privately because of a very simple computer error, they felt it necessary to correct and reprimand me via email and send it out to our entire team.

It’s only Monday. A shitty, shitty Monday and it’s not a dream. I had to take 1.25mg of Xanax to get through the whole day – just to keep me from crying and walking out the door with my middle finger in the air. So my pdoc is going to have to up this prescription; back in 2012-2018 I used to take 0.5mg – not this 0.25mg baby shit.

Because I cannot. I kept trying to think of water rolling off a duck’s back, but it wasn’t working. I just felt dejected, pathetic, stupid and livid. I took a nap when I got home but forced myself to go to dinner with Mom and the husband.

Still feel like shit. Still want to call off tomorrow but it won’t help anything, plus I can’t afford to lose the hours.

So I ate some chocolate. I’ll take more Xanax because my nerves are shot and nothing is working to calm me down. I feel like fucking crying.

…Ok, now I am crying. What the friggety fuck.

I’m done with today.

Oh, to feel nothing again. What a blessing that was. If I can’t be manic, Goddess please, let me feel nothing. Everything in between is either annoying or torture and I’m not in the fucking mood anymore.