I love you

I grew up in a home where feelings were talked about. I always say ‘I love you’ as my good bye. I have been told before that love is a strong term and to not throw it around. Bitch, please. Don’t push not being in touch with feelings or talking about them on me. There are different types of love, but all of mine is unconditional. I never make anyone say it back, but yes it is nice to say ‘good bye love you’, to family and people who are family friends. I get some people are different and don’t like it, but I am not telling them I love them. It is always a friend of a friend or a co-worker, someone I don’t love that makes a big deal out of me telling my loved ones I love them.

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J-J-J-Joey!

My Joey is coming home for Christmas! I haven’t seen him in two years. I am going to glomp him so hard! We have been friends since high school and literally live across the whole country. I live off the bat on the east coast and he lives off the bay on the west coast. We are both poor so we can’t visit each other much. He comes here. I am too poor to go anywhere. I am 90% sure I am going to cry because thinking of seeing him makes me cry.

Sad

I now have to tell my mother when she leaves the house that if I am in bed I am sleeping and not dead. I mean I could randomly die or be killed, but I will not kill myself. I am just sleeping, like people do in beds. The sad part is I actually have to tell her it not making fun of her but in all seriousness, because it is a real fear.

Nap time

Mom knows I can’t do much and I have naps all the time. She also knows that I sleep a lot when menstruating and that I have depression. She is staying with me for Christmas and was out with her friends. I was having a nap when she came home. She thought I was over dosing on something. She asked me what I took. My cats were on me, also sleeping. I do have a suicidal kick to me, but she shouldn’t assume I am dying when I am having naps. She will be worried all the time. I need naps like a child.

I won’t take pills for my cramps because I am already on so much medication. It isn’t fun and I don’t really do anything other than sleep and eat when I have it.

Also why the hell would I wait until mom came to visit to kill myself? I would clearly do it alone so that my landlord would find me.

Puzzling

I called my psychologist and asked if they had the request from my family dr about me being evaluated. Apparently he did that in the first meeting… How the hell do you do a full evaluation and miss, hallucinations, manic episodes, and self harm? I don’t tell them I self harm unless asked, because I forget I do it. Needless to say I am getting a second opinion.

Cruel

I asked my mom how a friend of the family was doing. She has been slowly getting meal and nasty, but it isn’t her. Her mother had it and I am not sure what it is, but she needs help. When I asked if her husband is making her get the help she needs she said no. I asked if she saw a doctor or specialist to see if there was help for it. I have no idea what it is, I am not a Dr, but she needs help. Mom said in the state the wife is in she would never forgive her husband if he sought help for her.

So because she is getting cold hearted and just horribly mean her husband isn’t seeking help? This isn’t her. She is a kind sweet lady. She has something. It is cruel to not get her help. Also why the hell did she not have a plan in place when she was herself and was afraid she would eventually do a 180 degree personality change like her mother. They are just going to let her to continue to get worse without seeking help.

Little boy

There is a little boy who looks like an old time paper boy in my bedroom door. Little cap and everything. Creepy little sucker. He is some how more unsettling than the large ominous figures I see. I don’t trust him, even though I know he isn’t real.

I am never alright.

I don’t get how hard it is for people to grasp that I am never alright anymore. I can’t go anywhere alone and people get surprised when I make them go into places with me instead of them waiting in the car. I make comments like ‘What do you think I am? Healthy?’ I try to act like I do when healthy, but it is impossible. Some times people think I try to hide my mental illness. I am too exhausted from trying to get better while actively trying not to die. When I seem alright, I am not. I am trying to make myself feel better and am heavily medicated. I want to just stay in my apartment with my babies. I know that isn’t healthy so I force myself to do things I don’t want to.

Creepy as hell

I hear a man in my living room talking and pacing. I know it isn’t real. I know I am the only human in my apartment. It does not make this any less creepy. It makes it more terrifying, I think.

Manufacturers defect

I am not broken. I am exactly how I was built. I have a chemical imbalance which causes me to have anxiety as a disease. Nothing made me this way, it is just how I am. I refuse to be treated poorly because of my disease. I am the reason why all the bus drivers had to go to a passenger’s rights course. I am in constant fight or flight mode. That isn’t really someone you want to mess with, especially if they are a touch crazy, like me.

I have to answer my phone because I am fighting with the government for rights and proper treatment. When ever I start crying , which is usually within the first 60 seconds, they always ask if they should call back. I say no, because they are just going to give me an other panic attack. I can’t talk on the phone without having a panic attack. It is in my notes about my disease and how badly I have it. They work with the mentally ill they should know this and read my file, before they call. Why are you calling me about my case if you haven’t read up on how limited I am at doing things? At least I can force myself to answer . Some people can’t.