Unfortunately, the stress got to me. I tried to keep it together, honestly. Although, I did just sit around and watch reruns of The Originals for weeks on end. Ahhh escapism. My ex calls it the “Approach Avoidance Syndrome.” Anyway, when I did decide to get up off the couch and get out the ole whiteboard (you gotta always worry when that thing comes out) I felt the overwhelming and all consuming disorder taking charge. At first, like always, the mania was a good thing, but the mood swings were rapidly cycling, which doesn’t usually happen to me and was a bit frightening. And people just don’t get it. I tried calling those allies and they didn’t understand the severity of what was happening once again. This illness is truly an alone thing.
It’s been 9 months since I got totally psychotic and trashed the house. Last night may have been worse though. Yeah… much worse. I decided to draw. Really bad decision. Somehow, something happened though, because I woke up the next morning unable to get out of bed. I assume I have a cracked rib and have no fucking clue as to how I got it. The really interesting part though was what I walked out into after a grueling wake up. Disaster is putting things lightly. Hurricane maybe. Fire. Tornado, thats it, tornado. Maybe even a Sharknado.
The first thing I saw was a shit load of dirt all over the living room floor. Plants had obviously taken the blame. Pots shattered and there was literally a inch of dirt on the floor. The kitchen had suffered worse. I guess I got sick of my chipped plates. Constantly repairing them. Now shattered all over the floor. Every last one of them. The hilarious part though, that I must have had for my own self preservation, was the kitchen rug laid over the top of the refuse so as not to cut my feet. It was the perfect walkway from the doorway to the sink. Smart. Protect the feet and get a cracked rib instead. It’s too bad really. The plates were quite lovely and to replace them… well with the money just flying out the door and my credit card smoking due to the move, I’m kinda stuck with plastic and paper.
I didn’t think it was beautiful. I don’t feel that its a representation of what my mind is like. I’m just over it. I figured out that no matter what the medications are (and I did call my dr. for a refill on the Klonipin) this bullshit is for real, and its here to stay! What now? I was finally thinking of falling in love again. I know there is someone there in Michigan. Don’t know how I know, but I know. But what the hell kind of freak could handle this? I was telling my mom, just last night that it’s time for me to meet a nice guy. She was like, “No you’ll find a charismatic wild one again. You like the excitement.” She’s probably right.