I feel really aggressive today. Like I can’t decide whether to cry or hit something. I hate it when I am in this state. I can’t decide which way I’m going to lean. It’s frustrating and aggravating. I’m not a danger to anyone. I just want to smack a pillow or a punching bag. I’m frustrated and it’s really making me upset.

A part of me wishes to torch my manuscripts and the other side wants to bawl like a baby. It’s so irritating! Decide brain… decide dammit! Here we go… “fuck it all.” And the doctor gave me antibiotics for pneumonia and they’ve set me off. They knock me out when I have a ton of work to do. I hate feeling this way. I guess I’m caught in between mania and depression or what’s better known as a “mixed” state.

Just bent up frustration and aggression. I can feel myself snapping at the little uncomplicated things. My mind isn’t focusing on the things that normally help me. I just want to scream.

Don’t pull me into politics. I don’t want to hear about it. I can’t handle politics right now. Anything will set me off. I’m trying to keep the Borderline away. Bipolar is just not working with me today. I woke up feeling groggy and I shouldn’t work all night long. It doesn’t help me when it comes to sleep. It leaves me unbalanced and unfocused. AHHH! Damn, I want to scream!

Every once in a while, I’m thrown into these states. I love the manic episodes but I loathe the depressive episodes. I know the crybaby fest will come soon. I don’t want that fucking low. I enjoy my highs… I hate my lows. It’s like slamming into a brick wall and feeling like you’ve failed at everything.

Anxiety came out to play. I tried to work an outside job and it backfired. Anxiety said no, you’re not going to do this. You can’t handle this. I fell victim to anxiety. I let it win. And now I’m stuck in a fucking mixed state from hell. I’m angry with myself, not at anyone else. Why can’t I do the normal things? This fucking sucks! My mind is racing a million miles a minute.

The problem with anxiety, it doesn’t allow you to take medications. Borderline helps anxiety and the Bipolar leads to paranoia. “This is mind control. They want to control your mind. It’s all for money. You know it will make you feel like shit. Why take that? What if you have a heart attack? What if you fall asleep and you don’t wake up?” That’s anxiety mixed it with the others.

I reorganized my bookshelves. Cue the manic episode! And I put all the dead authors on the top shelf. I tried to make a joke but my family didn’t think I was funny. They are watching me like a hawk. “Jen is tittering again.” I thought it was funny but they didn’t. “Guess what the top shelf has in common?” “What, Jen?” “They’re all dead!” “That isn’t funny!” I thought it was funny. I don’t think authors from the 1800’s will stay alive in 2017. I’m not licking the windows or bleaching the walls yet, but I’m sure my entire family is on alert. Geeze… you think they would lighten up!

Anyway, I’m off to the next psychologist. I won’t return to the pill-pushing moron.


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