1/2 of my brain meets with my genes behind the clueless other 1/2’s back as my mind fails to rest & the faint rambling of thoughts is suddenly too loud.

***a car accelerated to 100mph while stuck in Parking***

my body waits outside the periphery of my manic depressive mind -tick, tock, tick… I’m a spectator of the insanity freak show featuring my faulty brain unravel… Sitting front row – now lucky winner of the starring role – but how did I earn it?

This broken life is my beautiful stage, this practiced smile and fake laughter save my grace.

***driving 100mph then shoved to passenger’s seat***

I wait outside the periphery of my manic depressive mind -tick, tock, tick…




restore motion and pull the strings of this body

depersonalized– as I float in this place devoid of air.

my legs, my feet, foreign objects of despair

dangling, dipped in kinetic inertia .

affection long lost- affliction hard won

my body moves out of sync:1,2,1,2,1,2,3,1,3,2,1….

chatter in my cluttered mind- hosted by my fragile brain


Tool for Exposure and Response Prevention (ERP), usually part of Cognitive Behavioral Therapy (CBT) to treat OCD, Agoraphobia, and other Anxiety Disorders. This will desensitize the person from their triggers, by means of systematic, escalating exposures. On my own, I do little exposures that somedays grow huge, subject to my ups/downs. Translates to failure many times- and last night was a huge loss of net worth. I visited fuckanxietyville on a very busy workday. I was fixated on hanging out afterwards. A significant exposure I thought I could handle without major incident. Wrong.

Exposure Starts. Really? Breathless upon entry? Can I run out? No. Change my mind? Not really. FUCK. Rate my anxiety at a 9. But come on, BREATHE. Minutes Elapsed. Are you fuckin’ kidding me? I can’t swallow my beer because my throat’s closing up on me. Great. The fast drinker now can’t drink, absurd. Half Hour Elapsed. Ok, focus on the stand-up act you came to see. Just block it all. But not them too! Forty Five Mins Elapsed. Oh no, I’m starting to cry. Gotta get out soon. But give it a while. Fake laughing, does anyone notice? 1 Hour Elapsed. Out NOW, worthless bitch! If you say so. Exposure Ends. Rate anxiety at a 10, which means Exposure Failed. I spent close to an hour outside, hiding in plain sight, crying quietly. Until a friend found me. And I broke irreparably, yet to recover****meltdown: Colossal failure… with a side of glad I tried topped with sick & tired of this. What the fuck?  I gathered the remains of my dignity, worth, and sanity from this filthy floor and tried to put it back together but it didn’t stick…. just my luck. Yay, awesome.


bittersweetness coated in anger capsules

(sigh) I did it… I panicked, was breathless,lightheaded, irritable, holding back tears, walking the edge between “endure this, or flee the fuck out of here!” modes- as I walked the aisles and gathered much procrastinated household items. My anger was a safety coating from my own depersonalizing rapid misfiring brain mode.When I got to my car, I was an anxiety-stricken mess, but I gathered my remains for the short endless drive home. I wasn’t able to do other things_But considering how house-bound I’ve been –today’s a big winin a recyclable loser gift bag. Yeah, sad. Of course, I’m positive… but when your life has escaped your hands and you feel so close to finally! getting a grip, it’s very frustrating to loose it again so quickly. I know that, but my mentally manic emotionally depressed brain says it’s bullshit. I got home, didn’t get to do anything… I’m still recovering, hours later. I don’t like anger but if it will allow me to beat anxiety & get my life back, yay anger… just leave me alone so I can feel good enough to follow up and not end up like this….. Ugh.

Bittersweetness coated in anger capsules: Take as needed.

Watch out for whatever comes next. Bloody amazing (sarcasm).


I’m caught up in this nightmarish thing I can’t awaken from: tears cloud my sight, pain pulses through my body, until suddenly sensations are surreal and I start to feel numb. the veil falls -i see my empty surroundings, these blank walls, my packed belongings, some items in disarray- “nobody should have to live like this”… there are no people in this house that should be home, and where did myself go… WHATTHEFUCKISTHIS???? Because LIFEITISNOT.


I think I found it (antidote)…

Thinking of today, words like refreshing & inspiring come to mind.. what the fuck happened?  No, it’s not a rush of hypomania – the kind that take my pain away, make me work 10x quicker & better- before my brain runs for an exit… abandoning me to the claws of depression and death grip of anxiety. I barely slept, and my body felt it. I had anxiety attacks come/go more than once. I crashed. IT WASN’T NEAR PERFECT – OR NICELY HYPOMANIC. I thought I was headed there. However, my anxiety had been choking the air out of me- then it lost strength and I could breathe again. Fu.cking.fan.ta.bu.lous!

The one difference I see? The intense anger/hostility I was feeling before work ‘canceled’ all the rest. I’ve noticed my anger/rage is the only thing that ‘overrides’ anxiety... though I can go from rage to panic one moment to the next. I wish I knew how to redirect my anger, turn it into my anxiety antidote- instead of it poisoning me (as usual). Keep dreaming! Oh I can feel this state leave me: FUCK.


i always try to laugh at my bipolar episodes, anxiety attacks and overall paranoia. when life gets too fucked up, there comes a point you must laugh about it. I mean, what else can you do… already been angry, cried, tried to fix it… of course, that’s “mildly depressed me through a hypomania filter” talk. switch me to depression or dysphoric mania and this is nothing but a delusion to a fatal tragedy, or a cruel mockery that makes my insides boil with rage. the epitome of self destruction. i also downplay it, like it’s not as bad –as if i had control– truth is i lost that years ago: but i don’t want you to know it’s this pathetic. maybe if i buy into that lie i can feel better? maybe if i say it’s funny, not as bad and fake laugh enough times it will become indeed a funny thing that’s not too bad and will produce real laughter? but my illness fails that lie, and the mask cracks for all to see. suddenly there is air but no oxygen for my struggling brain(again), i wish i was dead (again), but when you approach me i say it really is “kind of funny”, half smiling or faint fake laugh and then you believe me (or pretend to). and i die some more (again), hate me some more (again), realize i’m being too harsh (again), and that i need a hug (or many) but have betrayed me (again) and never asked the not so random people around me for one. i’m so lonely but i don’t shed much light into it because it’s too painful. i fake being strong in an attempt to be how i used to be. i push my limits but they keep closing in on me...

i need a friend that makes me feel alive in a good way. i’m so tired and beat,  i fool myself into finding it funny. if you like me enough, this monster that inhabits my brain and permeates my mind…might get distracted and go back to the background. its voice will be faint, my body will be mine, and i will be someone different from this. for now, my worth is scattered in pieces on this hard floor where i’ve cried for too long – i lack energy to put it together. isn’t this funny: mid 20’s, attractive, intelligent, open-minded, hypersexual: with nobody to open up to, defeated by this condition that she tries to find the positive in every day. hahaha.