Crazy is the new craze.

Soooooo I spent 10 days in a psychiatric hospital. Crazy people, check. Drooling people, check. Zombie people, check. Crack heads, check check and check.

I was there for therapy and healing but mostly I just got into arguments. I yelled at a nurse because she was being a lying insensitive bitch. I got into an all out war with most of the people in group therapy because I support gay and lesbian rights and also I don't believe in the bible. One of the most crazy people there said lesbian sex was unnatural and unfulfilling. To which I replied "well the lesbians seem to like it quite a lot.

I got into another fight with a nutter because he used a racial slur. He called me bad words so I called him a backwoods, inbred, hillbilly sister fucker. Needless to say that did not go over well.

Also did you know that you aren't allowed to have hair conditioner on a psych ward? This dumbfounds me. What on earth could I possibly do with conditioner to hurt myself? Your not allowed chapstick either. Seriously what the hell!

H-day is almost here

Yep, next tuesday H-Day. H for hysterectomy. I am both scared and excited. I can't wait to get it over with but I'm also a little anxious about the procedure. I was told it would be done with a laproscope so there would only be 3 small incisions. I thought "hey that's not bad at all". Until last weds when I had my pre op appt and the dr told me that the 3 little holes are only to detach the uterus and that he will have to go in vaginally to remove it. What??!!!! It's gonna be like having another baby. It's like my uterus is pissed because I'm getting rid of it so it had to have the last word. "Ha! Take that bitch!"

My brain is an asshole

Yes it is. My brain is a sadistic bastard who is at constant odds with me. I want to be calm and relaxed and normal and my brain is all "Waaaahhhhh it's the end of the fucking world. Cry bitch cry!" But you see, I am a cast iron bitch, so while I'm awake I can keep that fuck-mook of a brain in check. I'm all "Screw you! I don't want to be crazy right now."

But at night when I go to sleep it's a totally different story. My brain has free reign and it loves to fuck with me, in the form of the weirdest and most awful dreams ever. Then I wake up all sad and shake my fist at my brain. That smug bastard doesn't care though. He got his way. Great! Now I have to walk around all day, 9 kinds of fucked up from the vivid mindfuck I received while sleeping. Thanks a lot brain. Then he laughs and calls me a fat ass. *sigh*

Zombie Nation

I start to think there really is no cure for depression, that happiness is an ongoing battle, and I wonder if it isn't one I'll have to fight for as long as I live. I wonder if it's worth it.
Elizabeth Wurtzel

Right now zombie movies are super popular. The idea of a zombie apocalypse is highly entertaining. There are t-shirts, paraphernalia and books on the subject. What the public fails to recognize is that the zombie apocalypse is here. It's right now. Look at the people around you. I mean really look and you will see it. You'll find it in their faces and in their eyes. It's a painful, empty and dead gaze that you'll meet. And it is the face of depression.

People with depression aren't crazy, they aren't making things up to get attention. They are suffering from a horrific disease of which there is no cure. It's a disease that slowly eats away at you until you are hollow inside and all that is left is a void of pain and fear. There is no pain like depression because it is a complete absence of hope, an inability to look to the future. There is only now and now is utterly hopeless.

But make no mistake. We, the depressed of the world, don't want your pity. We don't want sympathy in the form of condescending gazes and softly spoken comforts. What we want, what we desperately need is your understanding. Understand that we aren't lunatics. Understand that we want friends, comrades for the cause. Understand that we aren't lepers or pariahs. We are people and we are in pain.

Moooooooo!

I blog because I'm unhappy
I blog because it's free
His eyes are on the sparrow
so he's probably not paying any attention to me.

Today's nonsense is brought to you by the letter F and the word "fuck-mook".

rock down to electric avenue

I'm going to talk about depression today. I know y'all are probably like "god damn talk about something else!" But it's my blog so I'm the boss, N'yah!

For me, my depression is like "Men In Black" expect I don't get to be a bad ass hero like Will Smith. Nope, I'm the robotic human suit with a little tiny alien dude in my head manning the controls. But my little alien isn't an awesome and kind alien prince. No my little alien is an asshole. Playing farmville on facebook, just brushed some lambs and BAM!!!! I am so fucking pissed off I can't stand myself! Stupid farmville, stupid facebook, stupid fucking cute little pixelated sheep! Screw all y'all. I'm out. 2 hours later watching "Firefly" reruns...thinking to myself "man Summer Glau is so graceful. I wish I was like her." now I'm bawling like an idiot and swearing that I'm going to starve myself till I'm thin again. 1 hour later. Trolling icanhascheezburger.com and running across cats that say "nom nom" while eating. I'm laughing so hard that I'm crying and can't catch my breath. The cute little kittens make me sooooo happy y'all! Then that little alien bastard is all "oh teh noes! No happy for jooo!" BAM! Here come the mother fucking water works again.

But but but...what about the medications y'all? Don't they fix it all and make you happy happy all the time? No it doesn't. It's like having an ugly ass couch in your house. You want that manky piece of shit out of your house but instead you just throw a blanket over it. Depression medication is like a blanket thrown over an ugly couch. It's still there you just don't see it right away and people looking in only see the blanket. Fucking blankets and couches and stupid aliens. Fuck all them.

Haters gonna hate......and I reserve the right to stab them in the eye

I will admit. Nearly all my adult life I was a skinny bitch. I was super model thin with a 21 inch waist. I was pretty hot. Well now at 32 I've been diagnosed as bipolar and take handfuls of medication every day to keep me from climbing the curtains. As a result of said medications, I have gained a lot of weight. Like 35 lbs a lot. Add to this the fact that I've been suffering through some pretty horrific menstrual issues, which have lead to me getting a hysterectomy next month, and what you have is a much heavier me.

This has led to some unpleasantness for me. A friend recently expressed concern that since I'm taking pain medication and have become a fat ass that there must be something wrong with me (read drug addict). Then just yesterday, I went to the Dr with the Hubby and the effing nurse asked me if I was pregnant!!! Jesus fucking christ on a pogo stick! Sometimes skinny bitches get fat okay?!!! Sometimes underlying medical issues will make a skinny bitch fat and sometimes said medical issues can cause the, now fat bitch, pain. So like I said, haters gonna hate and I reserve the right to do bodily damage upon them. I leave you with the struttin' red panda. Cause he don't care bout no haters.