Thursday, May 21, 2009

American Idol sux. + possible triggering stuff

Oh I am really 'full of it' tonight.

First of all, I am pissed about American Idol. Adam Lambert can sing better than Kris Kringle. Period. Why didn't he win? I am wondering if it is because he is gay. What the?

I can't wait for him to make a CD. I haven't bought music in a loong time, but I will buy that. I am also considering boycotting Idol in the future. What a joke it is.

Additionally, on an entirely different topic, I am pissed and feeling very low in general. Certain things from the baking thing bother me. Long story not getting into right now.

As in I thought about (pOSSIBLE TRIGGER) offing myself. But instead I ate some chocolate, took a clonapin (not in that order) and am now typing.

I will regret all of it (the typing) except that I will breathe for another day tomarraw. For those of you not aware, I do know how to spell - I was speaking of the day after tonight known as to-mor-row.

I went to my baking thing and was all alone with the founder who I greatly admire in heneral (that's Spanish for in general). If this is creativity, shoot me.

We talked of many things. But I ended up feeling sad today as I thought of it. I felt very left out of her schizophrenic world, one in which she finds there are so many others having the same symptoms as she.

I don't feel like I know a kinship of bipolars, or get to talk with anyone hardly except my emotionally verklempt husband for 10 minutes while we snarf down dinner and then he goes comatose on the couch, never to be heard from again. Not to mention he's the only human being I see all day. It's very weird. I might as well live in a burkha.

I married someone who doesn't laugh, doesn't speak much, but is real sweet. He's not mean to me, he is kind and says that he loves me (I'm about being truthful, not skewering the guy) but except for the emergencies he's not getting involved, know what I'm sayin'? Even then I would have to be holding a weapon in my hand or worse, shake him from deep sleep telling him I believe it's Armageddon again (That's worse than having a weapon only because that would be waking him up). You get the picture.

Anyhoo, said founder of bakery thing, who is also quite sweet (and naive, really, but that is another thing) and is a go-getter, I've said so in the past, works really hard, has a husband and child, goes to school, and apparently to her chagrin, takes medicine.

Probably not realizing how much this medicine makes it possible for all of the above to occur. Just an observation.

Then founder says she would like to be off medicine someday.

What is with people being afraid to take medicine? I am getting too tired tonight to write the scathing pissed off feelings that I feel about it.

I've paid a price a large exhorbitant price to learn that I've got to be on the stuff in order to be in this reality. Period. Six months in a state hospital NOT being a criminal but merely a mortal with an illness gives me the right to state this. I've been in remission for 15 years and I am still brought to tears if I talk about what happened then. And when I say remission, I mean psychotic episodes not the rest of the illness which is blunted greatly by tons of medication but STILL raises its ugly head enough to not let me live a normal life.

The anger courses through me. I have no one to talk to about it. So I send it out on the internet winds.

Why am I angry? Because so many times I have pulled myself up by my bootstraps, come back stronger from a 'fall' or at least survived the unfathomable and have no one to talk to about it. So now I pathetically write it on my blog.

I had another dream about smoking last night. It was a choice between a long lovely menthol or a long regular cigarette. In the dream, I chose the regular because I was concerned about ripping my lungs with the menthol (I smoked mostly menthols for 10 years in real life). Amazing. Worried about my health in a dream like that.

Plenty of real nightmares lately too. Won't go into it. Doesn't make you much want to sleep does it? Well, the 'dream cigarettes' make it nicer.

I wake up at 4 a.m. after a particularly messed up dream and can't sleep. It doesn't help that the next door neighbor's dog bays, howls, barks at 5:30 a.m on. Then my Emma dog starts in and then you are no longer compatible with the nice person that everyone thinks (I) am. You just want to yell.

But husband is sleeping. And its not Armageddon yet.

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