Dear Depression,
I read earlier an article that claims people who write on a frequent basis find it soothes their depression in some fashion. Ok, truth be told I read the headline and not the actual article. Whatever. But what followed the headline was "what would you write in a letter to your depression?" And that got me wondering, what do I have to say to you?
I have a lot of feelings towards you, most of them aren't very positive as you can imagine. I would say it's nothing persona, but truly it is. You're a selfish son of a bitch, you make it hard for me to live my life how I want it to be lived and taking my meds to keep you at bay makes it shittier of an existence. I get tricked into believing that living with you and letting you run the show is better somehow than the alternative, that icky feeling-less dull fog that I become enveloped in after a few weeks of "compliance". So then I let you run rampant in hopes that for a few moments a day I will feel euphoric, like I'm surrounded by candy rainbows, unicorns and butterflies. But at most I get a few moments of heart racing electricity coursing through me that makes me feel more anxious than alive. So you're a liar. One big fat fucking liar.
Then there's that incessant need of mine to run my mouth that you gleefully encourage. To share every fucking thought in my head with the entire world! Facebook asks how I'm feeling today, do you really want to know Facebook? I don't think you do but I will tell you anyway. I will tell you so fucking much how I'm feeling that people start to wonder if they should be checking me for self inflicted cuts or making certain that I don't have my head in the oven (don't worry I don't have a gas oven). I share more with Facebook than I can cram into an hour long appointment with my shrink once a week.
And I'm awkward! Oh so fucking Awkward... around strangers, around friends. I collect weirdo's like some people collect stamps because I don't know how to tell everyone to fuck off. But sometimes I do, sometimes at work I just lose my patience and string together obscenities like paragraphs. I make people uncomfortable and shockingly have yet to be reprimanded for my behavior. Is it because people recognize that I am one talking to away from walking away from work? Godforbid that should ever happen cause then I'd be in a serious pile of shit up to my eyeballs...
Sometimes though, ok not sometimes, this time around. This ride around the rodeo, I really feel like a clown at the rodeo you know... Anyway, this time around I think I found something that makes me less angry at you Depression. I found that this cave I fell into goes way deeper and spans wider than I ever knew. And when I fell in I found that maybe I don't have to say EVERYTHING all of the goddamn time. Being more of an observer of the world and less of a loud childlike participant has been different. I dunno what that means exactly, but I get a feeling you understand.
And you know what else Depression? I found so much support in the most likely-unlikely of places. I found a world of support in my husband, who by all means should be my #1 supporter but who has I believe struggled to be. I don't blame him at all, or resent him. I don't think he understood what my brand of crazy needs or how to best support it and I don't know how to ask for what I need cause all I need is to stay on my meds but I don't know how to do that. But something shifted this time around... and he has been an incredible rock for me. And my family, I love them so much it hurts sometimes. I think for the first time ever I've felt like I really have a safety net in them. My mom didn't tell me to cheer up, or think happy thoughts or some dumb shit like she has for the last 10 years. And my sisters, I just love my sisters. They're rough and tough and will kick my ass into the ground and kick some dirt on me before they pick me up and love me and dust me off and hold my hand. But that's what kids do, and no matter how old those bitches get they will always be my childhood friends, the same ones that picked on me at every corner but were there to stand up for me whenever anyone else tried to pick on me.
So my dear friend Depression, we've been to hell and back together. We'll be back to hell and we'll come back again together, skipping along hand in hand talking shit to each other all the way. And like a sibling I'll curse you and call you every name in the book. But you'll always be part of my life like my sisters will until the day we die. You've taught me good lessons and for that I thank you.
So that's what I would say to you my lifelong friend. I hope I didn't hurt your feelings.
Tuesday
Wednesday
Splintered Shins
Well folks, she's doing it! Today marks day 8 since I started my challenge to walk 1000 miles in 2014. The last 8 days have challenged me. There were moments that made me think this is gonna be a piece of cake! Those were immediately followed with days that made me think oh shit what was I thinking??? I'm exhausted tonight... I've been trying to go for a walk during my breaks instead of being a lazy cheeks. Today I encountered some serious shin splints. The entire week I have had soreness and the beginning of the shin splints but today was rough. After work I hit the treadmill to finish out my daily goal of 2.75 miles. Maybe 10 minutes in it just became unbearable. I stretch before I start going and it just makes 0 difference, sometimes I think stretching makes it worse. I just have to keep pushing through it, there is no option to quit. I took a break, I stretched some more and I got back on it. I had to take it really slow like a 24 minute mile pace. In the end I triumphantly finished 3 miles! I think I can, I think I can!
Intentions
It's coming to be that time of year where we stuff the hell out of our faces with turkey and stuff if you're a meat mouth and other non meaty stuff if you're not... either way you'll find yourself stretched out on your back with a belly ache waiting for the moment the Tums kick in and you can go back for your 5th serving. Then of course comes new years where we all resolve never to do it again and get in bikini shape for summer. Of course being as fortunate as we are in the PNW summer comes late so we get to be fat longer.
Those goddamn resolutions though, I resolve to be a better wife and not bitch as much when Mike doesn't clean up after himself and do things for him that wives are supposed to do. I resolve to live healthier and jog every day and eat meat only once a month and never allow a fried particle of food cross my lips. And I resolve to be nicer to kids and to do this that and the other. And then next Christmas comes and I realize I jogged only that ONE time because Mike was racing me to the car and I wanted to beat him to the passenger side, I tripped that kid at Walmart, I got drunk and ate french fries and mozzarella sticks for breakfast on January 3rd, I ate meat every day for 5 months, or was that faked a headache every day for 4? Hmm... doesn't matter does it? The fact is that I was fat when summer came and when summer left (generally in the same month) and I feel disappointed when November comes and I start thinking about all the shit I never did.
Why do we do that? Who's stupid fucking idea was that??? Well Wikipedia tells me the Babylonians made a promise to their God's that at the beginning of the new year they would return anything that was borrowed and pay off their debts... Do I have something of yours which is borrowed? (Liz, I have your sweater! IRS, don't hold your breath!)
Last year I decided that I wouldn't make a resolution. I had Intentions instead. I intended to work on myself, to be a better and kinder person towards myself. I intended to ride my bike more and finish STP and if I didn't well then who cares cause I intended to do it and maybe I'll get around to it another time. But you know what? I did some of what I intended and I'm proud of myself for that.
So what intentions do I have for next year? I'm not sure... I do have one lofty goal. This year my bike computer registered over 1000 miles pedaled. Next year I want to WALK 1000 miles. Intentionally, meaning not counting all the regular steps I take in a day but putting on my walking shoes and working towards that goal. I've had this vision of myself for a very long time as a graceful runner... a slimmer person running. I've told my doc that I feel like at some point I swallowed her and keep that bitch quiet with food and booze. But I don't think I need to be a RUNNER to be happy. So 1000 miles on foot in 2014.
 |
| Mike would agree that I really do look like the "actual me" picture... |
In the next few weeks I'll share some more as my plan becomes a reality. I hope to share more of my journey and hope to keep myself accountable. I did the math earlier, how many miles a day would I need to walk to reach 1000 by the stroke of midnight 2015 and it's not that bad really, its just under 3 miles a day. That of course is over the course of 365 days and I'm sure I'll have to do more some days than others cause there will be days when I flat our refuse to walk and I'll try to negotiate and say well I did walk around a lot today... I'll be doing some research on pedometers and find a way to track these shenanigans correctly.
You know what they say, a journey of a thousand miles begins with a simple step.
Saturday
Confession
Before I share any of this with you, I ask a favor. Please leave all your judgments at the door. Whatever you think you know, you probably don't.
Last night I fell apart at the seams. Crumbled, crushed, hung out to dry, wrung out... whatever euphemism you want to apply to me you can enter it here ________. My demons won and it was a scary feeling. My life hasn't been the same for a long time and the peaks and valleys are growing further and further apart. I feel like I'm sliding backwards down a mountain and I've lost almost all of my fingernails trying desperately to cling on. The ropes tossed down are just far enough out of reach to make any difference.
Yesterday was tough, but my entire week has been tough. My entire month has been tough, the weeks leading up to October have been tough. I work reasonable hours with high amounts of emotional stress in a sometimes unforgiving environment. You might think you understand, and I know you have your own stressful life and yada yada yada so if you have even begun to make assumptions or thinking anything along the lines of "it gets better, it can't be that bad" please stop reading.
I can handle a lot, i handle a lot on a daily basis but I gave up yesterday. I lost absolutely all hope. The tears flowed freely and my chest heaved with sobs. My mind wanders to some frightening places. Despite the pain of losing my friend, watching others go through the pain of losing someone they love and cherished... It's hard to say it to the world.
Yesterday I considered suicide. I considered very very very consciously the idea of ending it all. Not that I don't know that the sun will rise again, that the clouds will lift from my eyes, that this that or the other will get better, that the pile of bullshit blocking my view of better days will one day dissipate. I know all that but I was tired of waiting. Waiting for the next mess, waiting for the next diagnoses, waiting for it to get better.
I thought well shit this is probably a good time to make sure I get in this evenings dose of mood stabilizers. Except then I thought "or i could...". It doesn't work out so well to drink large quantities of liquid with an entire bottle of antidepressants, you end up vomiting duh. Xanax will make you sleep for a really long time and then you wake up strapped to a gurney on a psych hold.
I thought about going on a nice leisurely binge... which lead to a thought of making a nice laaarge serving of rice with some butter and mixing into it 100 crushed tablets of depakote at 250 mg's a piece and roughly 100 left in the bottle that should be about 25000 mg's of the stuff. If I survived that then a psych hold would not only be appropriate but would be welcome.
Do you have any idea what stopped me? Oh it was most definitely not the will to live or the pain I'd cause. It was this idea that Mike would be left to clean up my mess once more. Not only that but I would be leaving him totally destitute without my pay check! What a crock of shit right? Mike would survive because as much of a lazy man as he can be, he's a strong, persistent, smart person who would heal and live a long life with his next wife and have babies and live happily ever after like his mom would like him to (especially the babies part).
I cried harder every time I thought of another way that I could do it. It breaks my own heart to think those thoughts. Some people can talk about it in the theoretic way, like well if i did it I would OD on heroine kind of way of thinking. I wasn't thinking about that or like that.
I emailed my doctor, just a few lines. Just that I was scared and I didn't want to ruin Mike's plans for the weekend by having to check me into the unit and thus I was stuck. I asked a few friends to hang out but I didn't want to say hey I'm fucking suicidal will you please be my friend and hang out with me? I asked a few people to just hang out. I didn't get many responses... I rode my bike to my wonderful friends house and sat with her puppies and tried to put as much space between myself and my thoughts as I could.
My friend had a friend who had a friend commit suicide a while back. The deceased person had asked that person to hang out with him and she declined. He died. That survivor probably carries that pain with her still. I wouldn't want any of those people who heard from me last night to feel to blame had I gone through with it. It wasn't your fault, I didn't tell you why I needed you. But I would also hate for you to feel I was selfish in my decision. Because it wouldn't have been about you, or my family or any other one of my friends. It wouldn't even have been about Mike. It would have been because the pain is so heavy, the darkness so unimpenetrable, the rabbit hole so deep... that I just got lost.
Last night I fell apart at the seams. Crumbled, crushed, hung out to dry, wrung out... whatever euphemism you want to apply to me you can enter it here ________. My demons won and it was a scary feeling. My life hasn't been the same for a long time and the peaks and valleys are growing further and further apart. I feel like I'm sliding backwards down a mountain and I've lost almost all of my fingernails trying desperately to cling on. The ropes tossed down are just far enough out of reach to make any difference.
Yesterday was tough, but my entire week has been tough. My entire month has been tough, the weeks leading up to October have been tough. I work reasonable hours with high amounts of emotional stress in a sometimes unforgiving environment. You might think you understand, and I know you have your own stressful life and yada yada yada so if you have even begun to make assumptions or thinking anything along the lines of "it gets better, it can't be that bad" please stop reading.
I can handle a lot, i handle a lot on a daily basis but I gave up yesterday. I lost absolutely all hope. The tears flowed freely and my chest heaved with sobs. My mind wanders to some frightening places. Despite the pain of losing my friend, watching others go through the pain of losing someone they love and cherished... It's hard to say it to the world.
Yesterday I considered suicide. I considered very very very consciously the idea of ending it all. Not that I don't know that the sun will rise again, that the clouds will lift from my eyes, that this that or the other will get better, that the pile of bullshit blocking my view of better days will one day dissipate. I know all that but I was tired of waiting. Waiting for the next mess, waiting for the next diagnoses, waiting for it to get better.
I thought well shit this is probably a good time to make sure I get in this evenings dose of mood stabilizers. Except then I thought "or i could...". It doesn't work out so well to drink large quantities of liquid with an entire bottle of antidepressants, you end up vomiting duh. Xanax will make you sleep for a really long time and then you wake up strapped to a gurney on a psych hold.
I thought about going on a nice leisurely binge... which lead to a thought of making a nice laaarge serving of rice with some butter and mixing into it 100 crushed tablets of depakote at 250 mg's a piece and roughly 100 left in the bottle that should be about 25000 mg's of the stuff. If I survived that then a psych hold would not only be appropriate but would be welcome.
Do you have any idea what stopped me? Oh it was most definitely not the will to live or the pain I'd cause. It was this idea that Mike would be left to clean up my mess once more. Not only that but I would be leaving him totally destitute without my pay check! What a crock of shit right? Mike would survive because as much of a lazy man as he can be, he's a strong, persistent, smart person who would heal and live a long life with his next wife and have babies and live happily ever after like his mom would like him to (especially the babies part).
I cried harder every time I thought of another way that I could do it. It breaks my own heart to think those thoughts. Some people can talk about it in the theoretic way, like well if i did it I would OD on heroine kind of way of thinking. I wasn't thinking about that or like that.
I emailed my doctor, just a few lines. Just that I was scared and I didn't want to ruin Mike's plans for the weekend by having to check me into the unit and thus I was stuck. I asked a few friends to hang out but I didn't want to say hey I'm fucking suicidal will you please be my friend and hang out with me? I asked a few people to just hang out. I didn't get many responses... I rode my bike to my wonderful friends house and sat with her puppies and tried to put as much space between myself and my thoughts as I could.
My friend had a friend who had a friend commit suicide a while back. The deceased person had asked that person to hang out with him and she declined. He died. That survivor probably carries that pain with her still. I wouldn't want any of those people who heard from me last night to feel to blame had I gone through with it. It wasn't your fault, I didn't tell you why I needed you. But I would also hate for you to feel I was selfish in my decision. Because it wouldn't have been about you, or my family or any other one of my friends. It wouldn't even have been about Mike. It would have been because the pain is so heavy, the darkness so unimpenetrable, the rabbit hole so deep... that I just got lost.
Thursday
STP ~ Seattle To Portland Classic... wait what?
Can you feel it boys and girls? The excitement building up for that fateful moment when people climb on their bikes and start to pedal into the streets of Seattle... Portland their final destination. Yeah I don't either. What I feel is paralyzing fear and anxiety!
What the fuckity fucking fuck was I thinking? That's the same sentence that plays over and over in my mind like a broken record. I can't fucking ride 204 miles! I can't ride 30 miles! I should have been riding more, I should have been riding faster, I should have been doing something. Shoulda coulda woulda... I have 6 weeks before I'm supposed to be riding and I am freaking out. Freaking out is an understatement. I have 14 days 4 hours and 20 minutes as of this second to obtain a partial refund of my registration and my fingers are itching to go do that. So what's stopping me? No one has a gun to my head saying I have to do this. It was my own idea to join, hell Mike was going to train to do it in 1 day if I hadn't said I wanted to do it. So here I am 6 months later sorely regretting my decision.
I sat in my therapist's office on Tuesday and cried my eyes out over this. When I say that this is having a tremendous impact on my mental state I really mean that. I am agonizing over this but why? There is so much self worth that has gotten twisted up in the spokes of my bike that I am amazed the fucking wheels turn at all. I have convinced myself that giving up would mean utter failure and not finishing would be just as terrible a fate. Victoria asked me what the worst that could happen be. I said I would be disappointing not only myself but I would seriously be letting Mike down. She asked me if I could set a goal something short of 204 miles which if I reached it I could be satisfied and not feel like a failure. I don't know I suppose so. But what would that number be? She suggested 29, a mile for every year of my age. No, I know I can do that... ok so think on it.
In the meantime, why do you want to do this? Are you enjoying this? It really doesn't seem like you enjoy more than the occasional weekend stroll or the to and forth from work, so why are you doing this yourself? Mike's face flashes in my psyche like a neon sign. It isn't so much about competing with him but he just believes I can do this so much that it has become some serious pressure. Sure there's the whole Mike did it so I should be able to too. There's a "anything you can do I can do better" thing we have going though he might not see it. The biking, it was kind of my thing at first. Remember me signing up for Tour de Cure and Mike's plan to sit on the sidelines enjoying a nice cold beer and meeting me at the finish line? And then when I finally did it he outdid me by doing a century ride to my measly 43. Fuck that! My 43 was killer and I survived with little training.
I'm this bipolar mess of emotions... (see what I did there? I'm on my meds... mostly :-P ) Anyway I flip between getting really angry and really depressed about this. Victoria tasked me with really reflecting on whether or not I want to do this and why. We agree that I do get this incredible high from completing something that I never thought I could but at what price? I beat myself like I'm clubbing a baby seal just over and over until there is nothing but a bloody mess left of me. Is it worth it? I don't know...
I told her I want to do this because I'm so tired of being a quitter. I want to be a completer not a competer. I want to be a completer not a quitter. I'm tired of running away from things that scare me or that might hurt me. But I also know that if I quit before I even get to the start line I will be a bigger quitter than I will be if I don't finish the ride. Tony Horton in the P90X video's constantly says "Do your best and forget the rest" I want to throat punch him every single time I hear that but when applied against this ride I think YEAH! I will ride as far as I can and when I can't I'll stop. I'll get up the next day and ride as far as I can. And if it means Liz picks me up and drops me off 10 miles from the finish line who the fuck cares! I will do my best and forget the rest.
So where does that leave me with Mike? Definitely not where I thought. I came home from therapy and asked him point blank if he would be disappointed in me if I didn't finish. He told me he knew 100% that I have it in me to finish. Ok thanks, but what if I get to the first 70 miles and I can't go any further? He asked me why I would stop. I didn't want to read between the lines but it became pretty clear that anything less than 204 miles wouldn't be enough for him and that hurt. I know that a lot of my problem is mental. I don't believe in myself enough and I'm letting the fear take over but what I needed in that moment was for him to say "do your best and forget the rest".
14 days, 3 hours and 56 minutes...
What the fuckity fucking fuck was I thinking? That's the same sentence that plays over and over in my mind like a broken record. I can't fucking ride 204 miles! I can't ride 30 miles! I should have been riding more, I should have been riding faster, I should have been doing something. Shoulda coulda woulda... I have 6 weeks before I'm supposed to be riding and I am freaking out. Freaking out is an understatement. I have 14 days 4 hours and 20 minutes as of this second to obtain a partial refund of my registration and my fingers are itching to go do that. So what's stopping me? No one has a gun to my head saying I have to do this. It was my own idea to join, hell Mike was going to train to do it in 1 day if I hadn't said I wanted to do it. So here I am 6 months later sorely regretting my decision.
I sat in my therapist's office on Tuesday and cried my eyes out over this. When I say that this is having a tremendous impact on my mental state I really mean that. I am agonizing over this but why? There is so much self worth that has gotten twisted up in the spokes of my bike that I am amazed the fucking wheels turn at all. I have convinced myself that giving up would mean utter failure and not finishing would be just as terrible a fate. Victoria asked me what the worst that could happen be. I said I would be disappointing not only myself but I would seriously be letting Mike down. She asked me if I could set a goal something short of 204 miles which if I reached it I could be satisfied and not feel like a failure. I don't know I suppose so. But what would that number be? She suggested 29, a mile for every year of my age. No, I know I can do that... ok so think on it.
In the meantime, why do you want to do this? Are you enjoying this? It really doesn't seem like you enjoy more than the occasional weekend stroll or the to and forth from work, so why are you doing this yourself? Mike's face flashes in my psyche like a neon sign. It isn't so much about competing with him but he just believes I can do this so much that it has become some serious pressure. Sure there's the whole Mike did it so I should be able to too. There's a "anything you can do I can do better" thing we have going though he might not see it. The biking, it was kind of my thing at first. Remember me signing up for Tour de Cure and Mike's plan to sit on the sidelines enjoying a nice cold beer and meeting me at the finish line? And then when I finally did it he outdid me by doing a century ride to my measly 43. Fuck that! My 43 was killer and I survived with little training.
I'm this bipolar mess of emotions... (see what I did there? I'm on my meds... mostly :-P ) Anyway I flip between getting really angry and really depressed about this. Victoria tasked me with really reflecting on whether or not I want to do this and why. We agree that I do get this incredible high from completing something that I never thought I could but at what price? I beat myself like I'm clubbing a baby seal just over and over until there is nothing but a bloody mess left of me. Is it worth it? I don't know...
I told her I want to do this because I'm so tired of being a quitter. I want to be a completer not a competer. I want to be a completer not a quitter. I'm tired of running away from things that scare me or that might hurt me. But I also know that if I quit before I even get to the start line I will be a bigger quitter than I will be if I don't finish the ride. Tony Horton in the P90X video's constantly says "Do your best and forget the rest" I want to throat punch him every single time I hear that but when applied against this ride I think YEAH! I will ride as far as I can and when I can't I'll stop. I'll get up the next day and ride as far as I can. And if it means Liz picks me up and drops me off 10 miles from the finish line who the fuck cares! I will do my best and forget the rest.
So where does that leave me with Mike? Definitely not where I thought. I came home from therapy and asked him point blank if he would be disappointed in me if I didn't finish. He told me he knew 100% that I have it in me to finish. Ok thanks, but what if I get to the first 70 miles and I can't go any further? He asked me why I would stop. I didn't want to read between the lines but it became pretty clear that anything less than 204 miles wouldn't be enough for him and that hurt. I know that a lot of my problem is mental. I don't believe in myself enough and I'm letting the fear take over but what I needed in that moment was for him to say "do your best and forget the rest".
14 days, 3 hours and 56 minutes...
Wednesday
P90X the fun succubus
We just finished our second go around of day 31. I'm really proud of the fact that I have stuck with this for so long, I have honestly surprised myself. Still I am so frustrated and tired and I wonder if it is worth it. Let's be honest this entire year hasn't been the best for me. The last few weeks and especially the last few days have been the toughest and I am starting to crack around the edges. I know that working out consistently is good for me physically and mentally but at the same time I seriously resent it and Mike. I have given up so many nights of hanging out with friends because I'm not allowed to. I have to come straight home so I can get my sweat on and by the time I'm done usually 7pm or later I'm so sweaty and tired that I can't imagine showering, getting dressed, and going out. Plus people are calling it a night by that time because we all work or my friends have kids and husbands they have to get home to. I resent the fact that Mike can go out and stay out late and then sleep in because his desk is in the room next door and he can work in his underwear if he even has work to do! On the weekends I'm forced to stay close to home cause we will eventually have to get that work out in. I really just want a break from my life, from all the bullshit, I just want to have some fun, i want to relax and I want someone else to do my laundry and fold it and put it away.
I'm grumpy and I'm tired of it... I want so badly to just relax with a glass of wine and I can't even bring myself to do that cause goddamn it I just finished working out and I can't just ruin it with booze. Jeez, how's this for a pitty party? I am appreciative of everything I have, I'm appreciative of my health, that my family is safe and healthy and happy, that I have a job that pays my rent and that I have a roof over my head. All my basic needs are met but I really feel like I'm the hamster in the wheel just running in place never getting further than I am and I just want to jump out of the fucking wheel and set that fucker on fire. Maybe then I'd jump through the flaming hoop for kicks...
I'm grumpy and I'm tired of it... I want so badly to just relax with a glass of wine and I can't even bring myself to do that cause goddamn it I just finished working out and I can't just ruin it with booze. Jeez, how's this for a pitty party? I am appreciative of everything I have, I'm appreciative of my health, that my family is safe and healthy and happy, that I have a job that pays my rent and that I have a roof over my head. All my basic needs are met but I really feel like I'm the hamster in the wheel just running in place never getting further than I am and I just want to jump out of the fucking wheel and set that fucker on fire. Maybe then I'd jump through the flaming hoop for kicks...
Fuck you.
Fuck you depression
Fuck you fuck you fuck you
Fuck you Diabetes I hope you fucking choke on a stick.
Bipolar you're a piece of shit and i hope you also choke on a stick.
Fuck you you invisible fucking bees. I hate you i hate you i hate you.
Fuck you for thinking you can run my life. Fuck you for thinking YOU make the choices for me.
Fuck you for deciding how i feel every waking fucking moment of my life.
FUUUUCK YOOOOOU
Fuck you fuck you fuck you
Fuck you Diabetes I hope you fucking choke on a stick.
Bipolar you're a piece of shit and i hope you also choke on a stick.
Fuck you you invisible fucking bees. I hate you i hate you i hate you.
Fuck you for thinking you can run my life. Fuck you for thinking YOU make the choices for me.
Fuck you for deciding how i feel every waking fucking moment of my life.
FUUUUCK YOOOOOU
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