Choosing Happiness – You’re Welcome

firefox_2016-10-03_11-25-06“Happiness is a choice,” she said.

“Thanks, of course,” I lied.

What I actually meant? Fuck you. If you believe that, you don’t know real depression, fuck, you have no idea. Sad? No. It is not sadness, at least not what I have, “severe depression.” It is constantly fighting the thought that you are so god damn worthless you should be executed. The executioner, myself. I don’t even believe in capital punishment, it is a racist and barbaric practice. Yet, when it comes to me?

Apparently, I consider myself worse than murders, rapist and terrorist, because in the depths of depression, I entirely believe I should blow my fucking head off. And I fight. God, do I fight. I try to stay positive, remind myself it is just a passing mood, I don’t have a real reason to feel so awful. All of this helps, because happiness is a choice. Fuck. None of it helps. Nothing helps. I wait for the mood to pass. Then I remember that I’m not great, but not horrible enough to merit remove from this planet.

“Happiness is a choice,” she said.

“Thanks, of course,” I lied.

Having zero self-confidence, constantly needing external validation often leads me to playing a role for people. I know few who dislike me, I constantly play roles for those around me. I’ll make jokes about fashion, musicals and Cher for those who appreciate a gay schtick and I couldn’t care less about any of the three. Religious? I’ll say “bless” and pretend that I pray. Whatever gets me positive reinforcement. Please, validate me.

It is pathetic. I know that. It is exhausting. And yet the fear of rejection conquers all.

I don’t love myself, but maybe you will. Please, at least pretend.


Choosing Happiness – You’re Welcome

Hate, Apathy and Panic

kazans_panic_in_the_street_trailer_screenshot_28829It just sits here, waiting. Always waiting.

Seroquel XR actually works. At 600mg it made a real difference. I experienced contentment, calm contentment. Of course, that can’t last.

Due to the severe reaction I had, my dose was cut in half. My psychiatrist is out of town. My doctor and I are trying to bide time until my pshycatrist gets back on Tuesday. I received a steroid shot, epinephrine shot and a steroid prescription. We decided to half my Seroquel dose, hoping I can make it until Tuesdau without hives. 


That calm feeling I got from 600mg of Seroquel is gone. I awoke in a mild state of panic. This is my operating state without medication. The panic leads to apathy.


No matter what I do, the panic, the anxiety just sits there. It isn’t distractable. Sure, I can call my mom and catch up. Every pause in the conversation, my mind runs through insecurities, past mistakes and worries, thoughts that make sense with my anxious mood.

Trapped. It doesn’t matter what I do, panic follows. Therefore, hopelessness and apathy set in. I try to fight, I always do. Today I made breakfast for Dan and I, called my mother, went to the gym, did some grocery shopping, none of it mattered – panic always followed.

I just took Seroquel, 300mg, an hour or two early, I just want relief.

And that is it. I want to read back through this blog, give it clear direction and all that. But I am too apathetic. I just don’t give a fuck about it, about anything. I am going to go cook some shitty frozen dinner and have a beer. No wonder why my body has gone to shit over the last year.

Dan went to hang out with a friend. I wish I had friends. I asked if I could tag along, even though it is a friend I don’t get along with, I just didn’t want to be alone. I know this all overwhelms him. But he is so lucky. I wish I could take a few hour break from my depression horse shit and go hang out with friends.

Time for my fat ass to drink beer and pretend like life is fucking worth it. Fuck.

Update (hour later) – And it is gone. The panic, the layer of fear over everything has disapated. God, I can’t believe I am allergic to Seroquel, it is such an effective drug for me. Sigh. Oh well, for now I will enjoy the calm. 

Update Update (hour-twenty later) – Oh, not all gone. A chunk of it is, but some is still here. Maybe I’ll take another 300. I don’t know. I don’t want hives, but I don’t want to feel this, panic, apathy, hopeless – sigh.

Update Update Update (two hours later) – Took a second 300mg of Seroquel. Please work. A few hours of peace before bed, please. 

Update (two hours and twenty minutes later) – Watching the same show over and over just for noise. Started downloading a bunch of apps, thought I’d find a game to play. Six new apps later, my apathy overwhelms everything. So I sit here alone and wait until I feel like a person again. 

Hate, Apathy and Panic

drug addict faggot die

CaptureYesterday, awful. Worst crash I’ve had in a while. Not only did I get to think about putting a gun in my mouth and ending my piece of shit self, I also toyed with the idea of hanging my fat ass. You know, just to spice things up.

I’ve been reassigned to a new office at work. This office is pretty isolated. You know what is fun? Hiding at work and crying because you are a fucking faggot. Good crying, the type of crying where you sit on the floor and your tears mix with your snot and end up in a long string clinging to the carpet.

Below is the data from the Google Form I use to keep track of mood. Below that is an hour by hour breakdown of how much Adderall in my system. Just to highlight to myself that I am a piece of shit drug addict fuck.

The amount is all Adderall. The amount I took? Horrifying. Disgusting. But, I just wanted to make it stop. Just make it stop. Today I took off. Because I am weak bitch and would have fucking lost it moving all my shit to the new office.

Greatest hits, the stuff I say to just fucking destroy me, are bolded.

Fun times.

spread total

*Siri wrote a shit ton of this, also I’m better with numbers then letters

Time Amount Comment Mood Energy Head Focus
2/24/16 6:30AM 15
2/24/16 7:01AM 15
2/24/16 7:46AM 7.5
2/24/16 8:36AM 7.5
2/24/16 9:10AM 15
2/24/16 9:25AM Been doing good and then of course I allowed a gap i guess, i feel guilty about taking so much. I am still good but i can already feel it, already worried about my mood. i hate me.
2/24/16 10:11AM 7.5 Doing fine, just scared. I don’t want gaps. I’d love a day of not thinking and hoping for my own death. 3 3 4 5
2/24/16 10:16AM 7.5 did i put this in a minute ago??
2/24/16 11:45AM And I am thinking about pills again. I am not aiming for any high, I just hate thinking about killing myself. I do it so often now. Did pills cause this? I don’t know. Maybe. But the pills no just provide me relief.
2/24/16 11:45AM 5 4 3 3
2/24/16 12:10PM 7.5 17 minutes ago, like always fucking guilty but it is so fucking awful without. Fuck.
2/24/16 1:23PM 7.5 Last bit of pill I have with me. I bet I’m a wreck at 3:30, or is it something. Or is that in my head? Probably. Fuck you 4 4 3 3
2/24/16 2:16PM Already thinking of meds. Feeling okay but fucking scared that if bad happens I’m on my own
2/24/16 2:41PM Already fighting the desire to end. Is this real? Is this something I am triggering out of fear of not having any left. I am not sure why. It doesnt feel like something I am doing. Maybe it is caused because even a slight drop causes depression,
my body demands more. But, I dont know. I used to feel like this. It just seems to have increased. I guess I would try to fight it more. And often fail. Now that I know I shouldnt have to bear this, that this isnt normal, it is just exhausting.
I need it gone. Or I will want myself gone. Sigh.
2/24/16 2:48PM I was just told I do need to move offices. I am going to be so isolated over in the new office. I walked it, it is a tenth of a mile from all others in my department. It is going to be so much easier to hide when I am sad. To be alone. To concentrate
on fucking killing myself. I am now sitting in an empty office crying and hiding. Fuck. Fuck you.
2/24/16 2:56PM I am just sitting here and crying. Yeah, I am a fucking adult. Jesus. Fuck. I hate this. I hate me
2/24/16 4:25PM After most people left work I well I don’t start to feel better. I just started moving my shit. It’s always reassuring to know your disposable. And I was so pathetic with my bosses I told them how I would kind of killed me. I wish I made enough
of a contribution that they weren’t OK moving me. I’m good at what I do. I work goddamn hard. I love every minute of it. My reviews are always very good. Which I guess is why they were OK just moving me, because I’m a team player. I wonder how
often I will just want to shoot myself in the face hiding over there. I’m still OK just now but I’m scared. Or maybe I’m not my
2/24/16 4:27PM My mood has stabilized. Someone. I am still very aware, we can all right? I’m already thinking 90 mg. And when I get home I’m going to make more. I’m a piece of shit drug attic who scared to nine and I don’t MI scared or do I just want more goddamn
drugs now I’m working myself up about this I could probably be fine tonight but what if I’m not. And I’d like to do things and not just fucking hate myself and I’ll think about it And now I’m probably just being dramatic and saying the shit so
I can justify that I’m a goddamn drug attic. But on the meds I just don’t think about fucking killing myself.
2/24/16 4:38PM I think my mood would be stable if I stopped attacking myself. I don’t know if I I don’t know. I don’t attack myself like this on meds. But maybe if I stop trying or did it finally I would stay stable I just keep thinking about terrible shit. Why
I’m fucking worthless. I’m a goddamn drug attic. Shitty health insurance stuff that I’m wasting so much goddamn money because I’m fucking crazy and all the stupid fucking doctors if I was fucking crazy Dan I could go on vacation or I would have
more money to give to I don’t know already lost in our Planned Parenthood a group much more deserving than my pathetic shitty mind. And I’m probably still being dramatic to try to justify that I’m a goddamn drug addict fuck me
2/24/16 4:48PM Yeah it’s kind of back. But am I doing this cause I want to excuse to take the pill? I don’t think so I don’t think I’m trying to make this happen it’s just when I am nothing in my mind is idol if it’s a terrible shit it just goes to all the bad
fucking hates me. And I don’t get it am I supposed to fight this I can’t fight all the time I can’t always be on guard sometimes I’m not and then I just fucking destroy myself. I know all my insecurities on my weaknesses all the bad shit about
me and I use all of those to confirm the worthlessness of my existence and why she just fucking die. I’m not having suicidal thoughts right now but I’m thinking about stuff in your follows suicidal thoughts probably two hours later but maybe I
get out of it maybe I wouldn’t have this thought just taking drugs and skipping them but I don’t want to have a bike I probably would but I mean fuck you fuck you drug attic
2/24/16 5:10PM 7.5 30 mg 19 minutes ago. just took another 7.5 because i am a piece of shit. my mind keeping wanting to focus on how god damn fucking worthless is. fuck. jesus christ. what the fuck
2/24/16 5:47PM 15 Yep another 7.5. I’m more in my head again. Dan is going to be home in a bit and it’s fucking embarrassing that I’m always a fucking disaster. Could I maybe stop this on my own I don’t know how I don’t end up if I’m supposed to I’m not showing up
and I fucking hate that I’m a fucking drug attic fuck and then be another goddamn homeless bipolar person with a drug addiction. Fuck. I hope I have the guts to fucking shoot myself before that happens. Fucking kill yourself you piece of shit.
Fucking do it. Fuck you. I just fucking fucking fucking hate you. This is why you don’t have friends, you yourself can’t even stand you.
2/24/16 5:49PM The worst part of all of this I know exactly what to say to make me want to fucking die. I know themselves can actually kill me. All of my worst fears I could attack. T The worst part of all of this I know exactly what to say to make me want to
fucking die. I know themselves can actually kill me. All of my worst fears I could attack. Cry you fucking faggot. Fuck. You fucking bitch. I fucking hate you.
2/24/16 5:50PM 7.5 I’m not to be fucking terrible tonight. Went to see Dan doesn’t deserve that, but really it. The weird thing is is when I stop talking into my phone I can push it out of my head but it sits there waiting waiting for the second that I get week or
I stop pushing fucking eats me fucking alive. Because I am a piece of shit
2/24/16 5:55PM I am god damn terrified that this is all me. I am supposed to fight this more. I guess i probably can. but fuck. what if i cant? what then? bang.
2/24/16 6:38PM 7.5 another 7.5, dan is home.
2/24/16 7:17PM 15 actually 23.5. You know why? Because i am in my god damn shitty fucking head again. all i do is focus on how god damn terrible i am. i am such a fucking cunt. fuck fuck 2 2 2 2
2/24/16 7:26PM please god. hurry. i am fighting the thoughts already constantly they pop up to attack, well every minute or so. You know, like fuck you. DIE. DIE. just the fun stuff
2/24/16 7:38PM working now. thank zues
2/24/16 8:08PM fuck and i am going down. fuck you dude. fuck. i am going to take a bit more, then buy beer to keep me not thinking for one god damn night. ive dained weight from all the beer because i want to be a fat piece of shit for dan. i had a six-pack once.
fuck. oh well, not like i can have sex without a god damn panic attack. he stays out of pity. fuck you. die
2/24/16 8:15PM 15 15 mg more. because i am a piece of shit drug addict and dont want to think about blowing my piece of shit head off because i am fucking worthless. instead, i am going to use this time to attempt to help my bosses with a spreadsheet. i know how
to rock a macro and it will save them a ton of time. maybe then they will pretend like i have some god damn value because fuck knows i already am well aware of my shitty fucking pointless fucking fuck life
2/24/16 8:20PM i wish my fucking bosses could get how fucking pathetic i am and how much this will fucking continue to destroy me. constantly reminded i am way far away because i am a team player and fucking god damn disposable. i constantly do useful shit at
work for all. i love work. it is the only thing that gives me a tanigable validation of my worth. and that is fucking fuck pathetic but true. fuck you guys. I wish you understood what a disaster i was. i can’t even hide and cry because tomorrow
there will be people around my office all day for a variety of reasons, none for me. so i don’t know how to make it. maybe if they knew this would eat me alive for god damn months they woudl fucking feel bad. maybe i should hang my fat fuck body
in the god daMn office. fuck you .
2/24/16 8:25PM make it stop. start working. i want to not remember how fucking worthless i am for just a little longer. fuck you. die. fuck i fucking hate you drug addict week faggot idiot awkward stupid fuck fuck fuck
2/24/16 8:32PM still not working. sitting next to dan on our computers and i am trying not to give him another night of his pathetic self consumed boyfriend being so god damn worthless. he so kind and support, he deserves better then fucking fuck me
2/24/16 8:39PM Fuck. Why aren’t they stopping. I probably did this. Maybe the crash would be over if I wasn’t a god damn drug addict
2/24/16 8:41PM This is selfish but the worst part is doing this alone. Like, Dan doesn’t really get it. No one does. Oh, depression? I’m so sorry, my nana went through that when her cat died. Oh? What fun did she visualize blowing the back of her head off with?
A revolver sounds interesting but maybe a shoot gun, kurt conbain style for maximum splatter affect
2/24/16 8:42PM 15 Died faggot
2/24/16 8:56PM congrads drug addict. freedom for an hour or whatever and then you drink you fat fuck fuck fuck
2/24/16 8:58PM maybe not i still feel it alitte, probably because i am absolutely terrified of it and so consious of is it here? is it here? and constantly do a mental check if the suicidal thoughts of taken back their home in my head
2/24/16 9:00PM yep. def still here. i am about to give up on you or me or whatever you crazy fuck
2/24/16 9:02PM i thiink fighting makes it worse. how do you fight your thoughts, i just think about dying more when i try not to. maybe if i was fighting stronger or different or i dont know
2/24/16 9:10PM is it over? or are the drugs working? i dont think it is drugs. i think it is gone right now. of course my fat ass will still probably get beer. dont want to be defenseless against myself
2/24/16 9:20PM Oops. Never mind, happiness was fleeting, apparently I was excited about the tiny amount of progress I had just made on PC maintenance. Yay ridiculously low standards because you’re not a function fucking human. Yeah back to sad.
2/24/16 9:26PM Yep. Still shitty. I knew this move might happen. I begged and pointed out the benefits of me closer. I fucking cried in my bosses office. Christ. I just told them, I am really good at isolating myself and have been struggling with depression, it
will be easier to hide and stop functioning. And it will. And yet they did it because fuck me. Disposable. I knew it would cause this crash, also part of my fear. God. How long will it last? Probably every day it comes back as I walk through that
door and am reminded no one gives a fuck. Dan does, but at this point pity. I am always awful. He has so much to offer. Him dating me is like fucking community service. Fuck. Duck fuck. Well, I am waking to get beer, it will never be enough to
stop this but fuck
2/24/16 9:29PM I wish my bosses could feel this, feel what they caused or my fucking weak head caused. Fuck. Kill yourself.
2/24/16 9:35PM I’m trying to convince myself my thoughts aren’t true. I place an immense value on truth, probably because I lied about everything I was until coming out at 23. I’m like, maybe they put you there because they knew you could handle it. And they did.
But I told them in no uncertain terms how scary it was for me. And they still did it. Because fuck me
2/24/16 9:47PM Poorer two shots, only took one. I need the second but I am a pussy and don’t really love hard liquor. I hid the other, maybe take it later but don’t want Dan to know. He is always nice and gets it but I know part of him is disappointed. He deserves
more. Now drinking a beer. So, 90 cal shot and 200 cal beer and yeah. I have stopped running all I do is think when running. I think what a fucking shit I am. I’ve gained 30lbs in the last 6 months. I’ve always been fit, weighed the same for 16
on, well until 6 months ago. Gays are hash. So, not only am I depressive pathetic stupid fucking faggot, I am god damn fat and disgusting too. I have nothing to offer Dan. He says we will never own guns. Good. But yeah
2/24/16 10:00PM Meds are probably wearing off, or how much of a piece of shit i am is overwhelming. it is all still there. all the fucking hate. but i am just trying to work. like, i guess it will just sit there. and i can enjoy life with an overwhelming amount
self hatred. die you weak fuck. die.
2/24/16 10:26PM I think it is calming down. Or my body is just tired. It is still there but I don’t know. Sleeping pills time
2/24/16 10:36PM I have avoided it all night. But I just brought it up to Dan. Probably gonna talk about it when we lay down in a few. And I shouldn’t have. I’m doing okayish right now. Mostly. Haven’t thought of dying in 20 minutes
2/24/16 10:42PM And yet here I stand desperately still fighting my thoughts, even fighting my fear of those thoughts, doing all that while trying to chug my bear so I can go to bed. Beer won’t even do much, taking sleeping pills any. But it might help? Or I am
on my way a drunk drug addict. Sleeping pills have the real power. Well, and a gun. Fuck. I am probably just being dramatic. Fuck me
2/24/16 10:48PM I think I can stop thinking about it if I have something to do, my mind and body are damn tired. Probably from the last 8 hours of fighting myself. But yeah. Why am I not always strong enough to move on? And what if I don’t now. God. I bet my pathetic
ass still brings it up to Dan and throws a pity party
2/24/16 10:53PM Peeing before bed. I bet you cry like a bitch. Maybe not. Maybe I’ll pretend to be strong for once in my god damn life. But fuck – I hate you either way.

hour by hour breakdown of how much Adderall in my system


drug addict faggot die

Wanna see a shit show?

Today has been difficult. Testing out less Adderall, just 60mg. Disaster. Shit show.

I use a Google Form to track meds. Drop down list to pick the pill, place for dosage size, time stamped and sometimes I log my mood, energy, how much I am in my head and focus. Instead of throwing another pity/bitching/pathetic party here — gonna use the back catalog.

Below is my log of the two days before being diagnosed Bipolar. Yeah. Shit show.  

Total of that disaster? Well, 160mg. Oh, and at 10:30pm, when I get giddy, hypomanic. I didn’t know it then but yeah. Drug addict. Fuck. Die.

10 pictureTotal is 127.5. Still, shit show.

Good thing the next day I was diagnosed Bipolar, put on Lamictal and since it has been six-weeks, everything is solved. Now I am going to go drink or imagine the blood stain on my ceiling if I was capable of blowing my brains out.

Fuck me. I probably just do this shit for attention. Fuck. I am not going to fucking kill myself. I just wish so much I had the balls. Fuck.

Happy Tuesday!

Wanna see a shit show?

Third Grade Suicide

cmdwljlwoaaafitThree months prior to my bipolar diagnoses my depressive lows steady increased in intensity. Leaving my house for any reason became terrifying. The only tools I had were Adderall and alcohol. Neither ever did enough. On New Years, it struck me, I wouldn’t make it through another year. I couldn’t. It was another twelve days before the term “bipolar” entered my life. My desperate plea below was an attempt to find answers, or help, or anything.

In second grade I started fantasizing about hurting myself. Largely for attention, someone would be rude to me and I’d think, I’ll break my arm, they will be sorry. By third grade I moved on to suicide. It really has never stopped since then. I never felt like I was depressed because my entire existence was depressed. Anyways, I got ADHD testing done about five years ago and was also diagnosed with Major Depressive Disorder.

It is difficult for me to distinguish between the two. I am often sad, but a large part of my sadness is my inability to ever live in the moment. I posted this in the ADHD subreddit, but am hoping for some more suggestions, ideas, help — anything. I’m at the point where I am not sure if I am going to make it anymore, I’m willing to try pretty much anything.

I was first diagnosed with ADHD in fourth grade and put on ritalin. It interfered with my sleep and appetite. My mother didn’t really believe in ADHD, despite what my teachers and doctors said, I was just being a boy. She used the side-effects as an excuse to take me off the meds.

It wasn’t until my first job that I thought about ADHD again. Due to difficulties at work, and since I was on my own insurance, I went and got psychological examination. I was diagnosed with ADHD again. Not surprising. I am also dyslexic, have an IQ in the 130’s and have several Autistic family members, all of which are correlated with ADHD. I was also diagnosed with depression, another thing my family doesn’t believe in, I regularly have suicidal thoughts, dating back to third grade, especially when under stress.

I was put on Adderall, it was a miracle drug. I could focus on what I pleased. It also shut out all the other stuff. Not only could I go for a run, but I could go for a run without making a list of all the things I needed to do and then beating myself up about them. Living in the moment, was new to me, my life and mood was on a drastic upswing. Four years later, I don’t know what to do. I started working on an engineering degree, just at the community college, taking night classes so I can keep my current job. I enjoyed the rigor and challenge of the work. Last semester, I had to drop out.

The meds no longer work like they used to. We have slowly increased the doses, I’ve been on Adderall, Adderall XR and Vyvanse. I will openly admit, when first put on the medication, I took more than my dose. I did so in order to achieve that euphoric state. However, as we had to increase my dose, I stopped this behavior, I didn’t want to lose what the pills did for me.

Still, my tolerance adjusted. Currently, I am prescribed 60mg of Vyvanse and 5mg of Adderall. For depression, I am on 300mg of Effexor and Deplin.

My partner hides the medication from me. I get my exact dose each morning and that is it. For the first few hours, I feel like me. Well, the me I have gotten to know. However, by hour four, I start to drag. As the pill releases I get a bit of myself back, at about six hours. But that is short lived.

I have an excellent relationship with my doctor, I absolutely do not lie or attempt to deceive her. She is aware of my poor behavior when I started on the medication and aware that my partner is now in control of it. We have toyed with the dosage in the past two months, but nothing has really helped.

I started also seeing a psychologist, he has no new solutions. I see two counselors and have googled my heart out, but don’t know what to do.

It looks like, the medications affect will slowly diminish, and I will go back to being that person I used to be. Instead of getting up to cook dinner, I will sit and think, “what is the point, there are seven billion people on this planet, none of us matter.” Instead of writing this, I will think, “No one will read it anyways, just like that poem in seventh grade when….”.

What scares me the most — I am not sure I can back. Life was such a struggle, I didn’t even understand. My ADHD directly contributes to my depression. I have all of these things I want to do, things I know I am capable of doing, but I usually don’t even attempt them. And if I do, I give up halfway through.

Part of me wishes I never had this. Because, I will forever mourn the person I could have been. The accomplishments and contributions I could have made. I have desperately looked for solutions, but as far as I can tell, the gig is up.

I have no desire to start meditating, then hopefully I can be 10% of the person I was on medication. I have no desire to spend the next ten years attempting to force myself to be someone that is so entirely foreign to the non-medicated me.

Living life the way I used to be is fine during the evenings, or on a Saturday shopping trip. Living life that way permanently? That is unacceptable. I am tired of fighting through days. I am tired of constantly working on not thinking about that and push towards this. I just want to live through my damn days. I just want to live, and not focus on surviving.

Over the next year, or so, it looks like I will slowly lose more and more of the person I have grown to know. He is a much nicer person, that person rarely thinks about how worthless their life is.

Yet, as I become the old me, I will continue to evaluate life. My fear is, it seems increasingly likely, that the least painful option will be to opt out, to carry out one of those life ending plans.

This is so much longer than it was suppose to be. I guess it is nice to say this stuff out loud. It isn’t supposed to just be bitching. I should go back and proofread, especially since I am dyslexic, but I rather spend what precious time I have left on this pill, doing something I (well the me I know now) enjoy.

I am scared.

Third Grade Suicide

Adderall or Beer?

Haven’t left the house for twenty-five hours now. God. I FUCKING HATE MYSELF.

Partner has a fancy event tonight. Happens every year. I’ve always gone. Last year I struggled. This year, too scared. Too many people, too loud, too long… This disorder, this bipolar thing, it is winning. It is so fucking winning.

Told the most important person in my life, no, I can’t. You’ve done so much for me, so god damn much. But, walking outside? Christ. No.

This blog isn’t suppose to me just whining like a bitch. Poor me. I suffer so, with my perfect relationship, a nice neighborhood, access to doctors and medication, pity me.

Want to know the worst part? We don’t have a ton of food in the house. I ordered a pizza yesterday night while my partner (lets call him Dan), while Dan was out. I ordered two, making sure I’d have a lot of extras. I’ve had pizza for three meals now. It will likely be a fourth.

I don’t want god damn pizza. This is why I have gained so much fucking weight. I am god damn disgusting. I fucking fuck fucking hate this.

There a bunch of cheap goodish places to eat near me. Do I go out? I doubt it. Instead, I will hide in home. Wasting life, crying about nothing, wishing I was actually suicidal.

You know, without this, I could have been someone. Really. God, I think so. I am pretty sure though. I work really hard when I can. And enjoy work. I want to have a family so so bad. I’d love to work in a different industry, maybe something with engineering. With a higher income we could afford to have kids.

Now? I dream that this ends. This crippling, all-encompassing, self-hate. I get headaches from it. I’ll start plummeting and after an hour or so of concentrating so intently on how much of a piece of shit I am, I’ll take a few Tylenol. And Advil.

Tried taking my 100mg in Lamictal in two doses today. I am hoping it just hasn’t kicked in yet. But I can’t even tell anymore. What med is doing what? What is me? What is normal?

The big decision is, do I take a bunch of Adderall to make this stop? I can always justify it. Most doctors who see me while crashing have given me more wiggle room with my medications. It just needs to stop. But I have already taken some Adderall today. It can give me anxiety, but I am never sure when. Do I risk it?

Drinking is the other option. However, my fat ass has gained 25 lbs over the last year. My body is wreck. Ha. It reflects my mind I guess. Drinking can solve it to. But god, every time I have taken shots while home alone I cry. I know it is destructive behavior. I do. But I don’t want to always being fighting myself. I just need a break. I need… I don’t know.

Whatever I decide, it doesn’t matter. A few hours of pretending life is acceptable again. Then back useless pathetic god damn worthless shitty self. Go me. Fuck.

Adderall or Beer?

This rollercoast brought to me by Lamictal

Today sucked.

That is the original title of this post. It perfectly describes my day without devulging any details. It is the type of sentence I used on few folks I am moderately close to at work.

It describes my day without having to worry about the details. Did my day suck because Jimmy didn’t sit with me at lunch? Or did it suck because I stubbed my toe while getting ready this morning? Or did it suck because from 11am on, I wanted to die.

Why? I don’t know. Well, I do. Life is pointless. You are worthless. I  am especially worthless. We all live 80ish years and then we die. In a 100 years, nobody will remember you, nor will they care. The observable part of our grand universe is roughly 93 billion light years across. Our entire planet could cease to exist — it wouldn’t matter.

Yes, I understand. Many are aware of the infinitesimal size of our planet, and it does not overwhelm then. They don’t cling to the thought of how worthless this makes them and everything around them. They likely even build meaning and purpose in their own lives.

Also, it doesn’t always overwhelm me. It often does though. Today it did.

For no reason whatsoever, around 11am I spiraled into the abyss. Sure, stressful stuff went down at work, it happens. Stress happens. Over the past few weeks Lamictal kept me safe.

It didn’t help me fight those fight my morbid thoughts. It eliminated them. Part of my brain, the part that is full of fear, doubt, anxiety, disappointment, guilt — that part shut-off. Over the past 48 hours, it came back on.

Three weeks ago, I didn’t even understand how low I was. I slowly stopped doing everything over the past three years. In the last few months, bathing even fell by the wayside. It wasn’t a conscious decision, I was just avoiding anything I found “stressful”. Having the energy to bathe, I started to show less. And less. My perspective is so different, I wasn’t even aware of this while it was happening.

Having tasted “normal”, I will not go back. I can’t. Every minute I spent treasuring thoughts of suicide, or beating myself up over constant failings. Even when doing tasks or talking to someone, in the back of my head, those thoughts ran on repeat.

It has been a week since I uped my Lamictal to 50mg, and that I did a week early. I called my doctor to get her input. The nursing assistant wrote down my message. An hour later she called back.

Nurse: The doctor said to stick with the schedule she gave you last week. She doesn’t want you to have any side-effects.

Me: Okay. I am really struggling. Like, really. And I can’t go back, having it incapacitate me like it did. And I already feel like I am halfway there. I can’t.

Nurse: Yes. I can let the doctor know your response.

Me: Yeah. Let her know that I will not be following her advice. I don’t care about a rash. At this point, it is more dangerous for me to have this then any rash. I am certain of that.

Two hours later, I got a call back. It was my doctor. I love her, we get along well and over the past two years have gotten to know each other. Obviously she expressed concern. In the five minute conversation that followed, she stated she understood. But to make sure and check for any sign of a rash.

I promised I would. And I will. But as I explained to her, even if I get a rash, even if it is life-threatening, I doubt I would want to be taken off Lamictal.

The past two weeks have been entirely knew. If what I am is bipolar, I’ve been bipolar since at least third grade. “Crashing” started then, or “depressive episodes” as my doctor calls them. They never stopped.

Well, that isn’t true. Over the past two weeks, none. Gone. Disappeared.

I am not going back.



This rollercoast brought to me by Lamictal