I just realized last night it has been nine months, nine… months… since I started seeing my therapist, which ironically began December 1st. Easy to remember. It began with my idea to just get out of the funk that I was in and reintegrate myself back into GH. I hated being back here! I had so many job offers refused and dug myself into a pretty deep hole that I would now classify as clinical depression. I blew off an entire year doing nothing. Binge watching Hulu and Netflix. Having a totally emotionless affair, its sole purpose, sex, and only sex. Well, ha, once I found out that this amoral son of a bitch was screwing my mother 20 years ago… lets just say, it left a sour taste in my mouth.

My first reaction was to destroy this persons career, key his car, then burn his house down. For my mother… I had other plans. She had a different demise coming to her. You see, she sat there and listened to me talk about this confusing relationship for an entire year. A fucking year! Now I know what was so confusing about it. Talk about the ultimate betrayal. No, my plans for her were much different. I thought I would start by sending black roses to her door. On fire. Couldn’t figure out who would deliver them for me though… “I’ll tip you an extra 20 if you light these on fire before you ring the bell.”

And then there’s my brother. He laughed in my face when I sickeningly, rightfully, became an absolute ball of fury over this news. He was after all the one to spill the beans, only to say, “I thought you knew?” And that would make it okay??? What the fuck is wrong with these people?! It was “common knowledge” supposedly. Like the sun and the moon representing day and night. Yeah, that kind of common knowledge. That kind.

But enough of that crap. It’s time to dig in to where I am now. Nine months later. This is where it gets interesting anyway. Back to the psychotic breaks and bipolar taking total control again.