Friday, November 28, 2014

Pig, pig!I've been everywhere that you've beenNow I've got nothing to lose and everything to win

I feel so betrayed by my family.
I'm laying here wondering what the point of this life is.
Is it to leave good impressions with people?
Is it to abandon everything you believe in to keep people in your life?
Is it to trust and keep on trusting only to find out you've been lied to each and every time?
I lay here wondering what's the difference between living and dying in front of these people.
I can say, honestly and without reservation that if it weren't for my birds I'd seriously consider the methods of suicide I researched on again and off again.
If getting help of my own accord and working on that help and actually changing only to have nothing else and no one else change what's the point?
I thought about the train tracks where I live before I got Olaf. But for some reason the trains around my home go incredibly slow so I think I'd choose sleeping pills.
But this sweet little bird along with Odette keep me going. Their love doesn't waiver based on their other children or grandchildren. Or because I'm simply seeking and apology from someone who wronged me.
I'm just always going to be wrong unless I'm silent and void of emotion.
Hopefully Olaf and Odette stay around for a long time or I find a man where I can have a fresh start and get out from under the opinions and ill wishing of people who are suppose to be closest to me.

I'm the big bad wolf, so let the games begin ๐Ÿ–๐Ÿท

What a mess.
I feel like all the progress I've made mentally with navigating bipolar disorder has been ripped to shreds and thrown in the trash.
Why?, you may ask?
Someone in my family attacked me via facebook (the mature way and place to say to someone "hey I don't like what you said" or "I don't like how you said that") and then allowed their fiancรฉ to do the same but by using bigoted terms about my sexual orientation.
All this because, yes believe it or not, I agreed with what she said on facebook. Now I'm portrayed as the person I tried so hard not to be, to get away from, and to make healthy.
All because I expected what anyone, Bipolar or not, would. An apology.
Did I get one? No. Why would I?
I'm expected to change, be different, roll over while everyone else can be the same animal they've always been.
Instead I got put on trial, like always, and had to scramble to find ways to prove myself, all the while this family member is slinging insults at me via text and not expected to apologize for that either.
I came to the conclusion today that I'm not going to treatment to make people like me, to be a show pony, or hinge the results of my hard work on the opinion of a pack of animals who have never been there for me and in the grand scheme of things play such a small role in my life and no role in my recovery.
I'm done focusing on the negative and putting myself in negative situations.
We have Christmas every year at this particular animal's house and I'm not going. I'm not going to set myself back for the sake of keeping up appearances.
The tables have turned and if they want to be in my life they have to work for it.
The only one from that side of the family that truly bothers me is my youngest niece who has said, not to me, to my mother over and over she supports me and sees a change, through that out at the first sign of difficulty. Well I'd like to thank her for clarifying that that was never true. Support doesn't just disappear at the sign of the first rough patch.
She's one of the reasons I've tried so hard. And I think that's part of the problem in this equation.
It's for me. Not anyone else. Support me or get out of my way.

Monday, November 24, 2014

Ima make 'em beg for it

So the saga continues. I continue to talk to this man and it continues to go no where.
" P-p-pussy power, pay me by the hour
I need me a braveheart, can't deal with the coward
I tell 'em they fiend balling, he should hit the showers
If I pick you, you lucky baby this money ours
All yellow gold on me like I'm Trinidad
Sitting drop top wonder where the ceiling's at"
I don't why I don't walk away. I'm so good at what I do I have ex boyfriends still begging for it.
It's not all about the sex but last time I checked I'm still human and it's been a minute since I've had any.
I feel like this man, the 43 year old, is afraid to try, to see where it might go or that he might like it.
I know if I'm in my 40s and still single I'd be on my way to giving up and praying for a miracle at the same time.
But this, this right here is the only reason I've ever felt like I hate being gay.
Monogamy is like the white unicorn and you have the same odds of winning retirement at the age of 18 from a lotto scratch off as you do for finding someone who is relationship oriented.
I can't tell you how many men have asked me out and are HIV positive because they've had sex with anything that walks for half their life and the only reason their sniffing up the tree of someone like me who knows how to keep their legs closed and wants a relationship is because once you have HIV the sex tilt-a-whirl has come to a screeching halt.
I hate to say it but so many stereotypes are true about the gay "community" it isn't even funny. It's embarrassing.
I use the word community very loosely, it's more like an orgy that occasionally dabbles in politics and stops having sex and snorting coke just long enough to make their point.
I don't want that kind of life.

Sunday, November 23, 2014

I never fucked Wayne I never fucked Drake

The more I talk to men the more I like my birds.
Speaking of birds I finally got to take home this conure I had been visiting every time I went to my local pet store for the past 6 months.
He's adorable. He reminds me of my first cockatiel, Tila. Ridiculously affectionate, funny, cuddly, and just wants to be around me. I named him Olaf.
I've been talking to this 43 year old man and at first it seemed promising but as the weeks go by the potential for anything happening between us gets smaller and smaller.
I'm not an agest. But if the shoe was on the other foot I'd be a little more interested in a 28 year old who isn't a 2 who wants to bark up my tree than he is.
Although he doesn't look his age he has adopted some actions and behaviors that are that of someone even older than himself.
He's extremely set in his ways. He hates talking on the phone and when I do call him I feel like he's Linda Blair from the exorcist and I'm the priest throwing holy water at her. He acts tortured and almost as though it's a presentation he has to sit through.
He has no problem texting but the way he texts almost always leaves you wondering what he meant by it or requires clarification.
He doesn't act like he wants me. He acts like I'm a side dish he could take or leave. I'm so much more than that.
Where are the men who want to stand up and fight for the one they want? Who understand what dating means and isn't afraid to take that jump, roll those dice, take that risk?
As far as I can tell, they're gone and soon so will my will to keep looking.

Monday, November 17, 2014

Sex Metal Barbie

Today was a day of many mind blowing, perspective spinning, unrealistic reality affirming moments.
It started with me looking at my timehop app. For those of you not familiar it's an app that will take you up to 5 years back in time harnessing your facebook and twitter as a means of showing you where you were and what you were doing via your posts.
I was besotted with images of me and my beloved Effie. I had gone to a reptile show and one vendor had bird items and I splurged on a whole bunch of things for her.
There were pictures of Effie and I. Her on my shoulder or finger, her looking like she was posing for pictures. A small knife was driven into my heart and luckily all the children were asleep and my coworker put out of the room when I couldn't help but cry.
Through out the day I was heavily concentrated on a manic episode I had the night before, trying to bait someone into an argument whom I would take a full magazine of bullets for.
Being bipolar isn't a focal point of my life. Rather it's like a baby taking their first steps and every step from then on becomes a laborious process requiring all their thought and physical concentration to continue the process of putting one foot in front of the other, instinctively knowing now that they've begun this mode of transportation it would be a requirement for the rest of their lives.
I don't walk around seeking sympathy from people. I just want to keep on the journey I chose to start when I sought out treatment and like that baby have begun a mental mode of transportation I will have to continue the rest of my life and to boil it down to it's simplest form I'm just trying to figure out all the mechanics.
I'm not fixed or cured because I have a therapist and psychiatrist and pills. This is the hardest part to get anyone to understand. I've been this way my whole life and it's gone unnoticed. Even by myself until not so distant events made me realize something else was going on.
Then at the end of the day I find out a girl from my graduating class died yesterday. We were by no means friends. We were enemies by the rawest definition but she still played a large roll in a good portion of my life thusly.
I don't think it's ill to speak unkindly of the dead. I think it's ill to not speak the truth about them.
At my funeral I want people to come up one by one stating both my flaws and good qualities.
We veritably hated each other. She did her best to torture me until graduation when neither one of us had power over the other one. I started a rumor about her that I don't think she lived down for a few years after high school. Sometimes the lowest underdog can strike gold.
But I would never wish death upon someone for high school childishness that I equally participated in once provoked. She was one of many cookie cutter girl bullies who once they lit the fire couldn't extinguish it and wish they had never started it once they found out their boyfriends were in a room somewhere at a kegger with me instead of them.
Her death is an eye opener. Here I am worrying everyday about if I'll die when I survived and she never saw it coming.
May she rest in peace and now have full view of my exploits from above and have more than a few good laughs.
I remember one day she grabbed my arm in the hallway and yelled at me "why don't you like me?!" after she lost yet another boyfriend to my black widow like web. She caused all my books to fall and my cd player to skid across the hallway. I looked at her and I said "because of what you do. What you do to people like me. Because you don't think I matter and I matter more than you've come to realize or ever will. People like me are survivors"
Who knew how true that would be.

Thursday, November 13, 2014

At the end of the day...or the begining

This quote from Demi Lovato is something I struggle with constantly. It's definitely one of those day to day struggles.
Yes I can be happy. This I know I'm capable of. But in spite of what other people think is a goal I seldom achieve.
It's difficult to be happy with yourself when there are others around you who disapprove of you completely, especially those you're forced to be with on an almost daily basis.
It's a goal I'm working on.
I work with children and see how naturally this skill comes to them but then I wonder if it's just the blissfully naivety of youth that enables them to not even consider what the person across from them is thinking.
Just another gem social anxiety has to offer.
I have a long day ahead of me.

Wednesday, November 12, 2014

Like a skyscraper

Being diagnosed with Bipolar depressive disorder has been a real eye opener.
It finally gave me the sight that so many take for granted. I lived a life of constant conflict. Conflict with people, situations, even every day tasks.
Now I'm able to look at these situations and take a step back, get a good 3 dimensional look before I react.
I won't sit here and type and say I have this mastered. If I did I'd be the first on the planet.
I also would be lying if I said it didn't feel wonderful and freeing. It also is terrifying in many aspects. I can now look back and see all the damage I created and it's been a lot of work to try and go back and mend those fences and rebuild those bridges.
Part of me wonders if people think I'm totally fixed. If they expect me to walk around with a permanent smile on my face and be lost in a haze of happiness and that if I do have a negative reaction to something or someone if it just gets chalked up to me being bipolar.
Am I suppose to be void of negativity? Am I suppose to be super human?
How long am I suppose to try to show people who are important to me that I've changed before giving up?