Oh, What The Hell Do You Care?


Put Up Or Shut Up, Lucy

Hey, just want to let you know that this crap I put out, this constant flow of attempting to understand myself in the context of psychological healing — well, it’s work.  And sometimes I want a damn day off where I can just put up my feet and stop thinking about all the things that constantly force their way into my brain.

I keep telling myself to shut the hell up but it just don’t happen.

And I hate it.  Sometimes it’s incredibly ridiculous and don’t I know it.  But this internalized anger and irritation just gets worse if I let it, so I have to sit down and work it out enough so that I don’t take it out on anyone.

And by anyone, I mean you.


You Tell ‘Em, Birdie

That’s right.  When I’m like this, your happiness makes me want to puke.  How dare you be so happy when I’m so goddamn miserable?  Why can’t I be more like you and less like me?

Well, can’t do it.  I know everyone would appreciate it if I were blissful and without care, but like I said, that ain’t gonna happen.  When this unreasonable attitude rears its head, the only thing I can do is to go over my anti-bitch exercises again and again until I’m a little less toxic.


Maybe I’ll Play With My New Imaginary Pet

And speaking of toxic, isn’t she cute and cuddly?  Hungry, too.  She wouldn’t take much effort as a pet and that’s perfect for me.  But she has a problem: she and her kind don’t like people too much.  She likes a place that dark, quiet, cool.  She’s the perfect pet for me because I like the same places and sometimes, I don’t much like being around people.  This girl’s got little fangs but a big punch.

If only she were bigger so she could scare everyone away.  Then I could brood in peace.


Stop Nagging Me

This is how just about everyone appears to me when I’m irritated.  Oh, they know everything.  They know exactly what I need to do.  They think they know everything and they won’t shut up and quit being nags until I do all the things they advise me to do.

But my ‘advice’ to them is Girl, put that pan down and get them curlers the hell out ‘yer hair.  When I’m in this kind of mood I sure ain’t listening to you.  I mean, damn, look at you.

You don’t know what I need because I don’t know what I need.  At least not until I’ve had a chance to figure it out.  I have to do a lot to work through this irritation or it spills out of my room and into the streets causing hundreds of villagers to run screaming through the streets like crazy.  We’ve all seen Steve McQueen in The Blob.  Unless you want a great big ugly blob of nastiness oozing out of my room, the best thing to do is back away until I’ve done what I need to do.


I Do The Monster Mash

I look into the mirror when I’m irritated and this is pretty close to what I see.  Handsome, yes?  But there’s a lot of people including me that don’t believe that.  They only see le monstré.

Under that disgusting mask of horror lies a Prince Charming.  Okay, not quite so charming, perhaps, but a Prince to be sure.  The spell must be taken off before the charming part of the Prince that is me can be seen, but this beast isn’t going anywhere just yet and there’s no Fairy Godmother to slap me into reality.  Hell, I’d like to see her try it.


You’re Gonna Get It, Audrey

Oh, you people think you’re all so perfect, so wonderful, so incredibly beautiful that I want to scratch your eyes out and I would except that most people have a nasty habit of pressing charges.  I never get to have any fun.

When I’m being a prickly claw-wielding screaming cat with an attack plan it’s best to be left in my little kitty-cage until after I’ve calmed down or something truly horrible could happen.  Well, horrible for you, anyway, I’m already horrible.  But why expose yourself to danger?  Unless you have a chair and a whip you’re getting nowhere with me right now.

So I’m staying in my cage today.  There will be no excursions out among the public.  No photos, no interviews, nothing.  That’s for your safety, really.  I need to be sure that I’m not the Wolfman but a pussycat.  Still, even pussycats can be mean and though they cause less facial damage, do not make the mistake of underestimating them.


You Heard Me!

This blog is more than 5¢ psychological cheerleading.  It’s about things that really happen.  It’s about attitude adjustment and observation.  It’s something dear to me because it helps me and hopefully helps you in some vague way.  Not that I care too much today but I’m just sayin’.


I have no idea what happens when these pages go out into the wide-world-ether.  But as the sign says, these are my words, not yours.  And when I tell you I’m cranky, I mean it.

But you need to understand that I work very hard to change my attitudes.  I apply every single thing I learn to my mental health.  These things I’ve learned help save me from certain destruction.  What you do with these words I cannot say, but I can say this:  I want to be an example to others of how to be a success when it comes to my mental health.  Once success just might kickstart another.  I have no idea if I can ever be a good example but I’m trying to be.

The whole purpose of writing this blog is and has always been the hope that others find something of a kinship with what I say, that understanding a little more about a single bipolar person’s life and attitude might enlighten others as well as lighting my own journey.  That can’t always be the case, but I want you to know that this blog truly isn’t just about me.  It’s meant for you, whether or not you like it or approve.  So there.  Like it or lump it.

Wow.  Am I cranky or what?

If I get cranky, well, too bad.  Don’t tell me you don’t get cranky, too.  That would be lying like a cheap toupee.  But at least within this blog I offer ways to acknowledge what’s happening in my bipolar life and ways in which I can change it.  And if I let you in on my deepest, darkest secret, do you think you can keep it?


Being A Bitch Never Pays Off

And there’s the secret.  Being a bitch is a bitch.  When you can’t do a decent job of controlling your behavior then going to your room until you can control it is a time-honored method of cooling your jets.  A time-out in the corner will do you some good but don’t wear the pointy dunce cap.  Sitting with a dunce-cap on is a little much since you can’t help what is a human reaction from happening sometimes; you’re not being dumb when you’re cranky, you’re just not accepting what’s going on in your thinking at the time.  You gotta get clear.

My brain tells me that I had better change that attitude, mister, and right now.  But what if I don’t care?  What if I don’t want to?

My cranky self could stand here and hold my breath until I change my attitude or until I turn blue and pass out once I stop screaming about it.  Sadly, that could take the entire day and unfortunately for everyone around me, I’ve got lungs like a bull.



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