Forgive me … my knowledge base of professional wrestling is very limited, but I have recently enjoyed watching a few matches as well as some life stories of a few of the more popular characters who indulge in this sport.  My favorite is The Rock, but I don’t even know if he is still wrestling.  I’m way outta the loop and behind the times with all pop culture.


He looks delicious to me.  Kinda ironic … Wrestlemania.  Unfortunately, I’m still wrestling with the other side of bipolar – depression.  I would like nothing more than to put a sleeper hold on this shit so it never wakens to plague any human being ever again.  For the fortunate ones who have never suffered from clinical depression, please understand that it is as debilitating as the Undertaker’s Tombstone Pile Driver:

Ok, enough of the wrestling analogies.  But seriously, as awful as depression is, add anxiety to the mix and I can truly say I am a mess, a hot-n-sizzling mess, but a mess nonetheless.  Kidding by the way.  The only thing sizzling of late are my fingers, hands, and wrists, as I’m constantly burning them while feeding my wood stove.


If you click on this pic, you will see that the temperature gauge says too hot.  The blisters on my hands agree.  Anyway, that’s what I get for loading up the stove with locust and not putting heatproof gloves on.  I don’t have any.  By the way, one sign of depression is an inability to concentrate or focus on a task at hand.  I think I just demonstrated that.  Ugh.

If only it were this simple (or maybe it is?):


Sounds like Buddhism … I need to try to practice that.  Easier said than done.

I mentioned anxiety, something I’ve NEVER had to deal with and always thanked the good Lord above for that.  Lately, however, anxiety and I have gone head to head and sometimes anxiety has won.  I don’t know if it’s the combination of meds I am on, of which my PNP (psychiatric nurse practitioner) and I are still trying to tweak, or if it’s just a lovely new symptom that stems from my bipolar.  I had to go to Wal-Mart the other day and was scared to death.  What an awful feeling for someone who used to be so confident and self-assured.


Yea baby … how I hope I can overcome this.

I apologize if this blog post doesn’t make a whole lot of sense. I need to get back into some sort of routine, and I want writing to be a part of it even though my posts may not be all that entertaining.  If nothing else, it’ll be a documentation of my journey through this living hell.  Not to mention I have a lot of catching up to do regarding my 6-week stint in rehab.  Still sober by the grace of God!

As the Nature Boy Ric Flair takes down the Undertaker with a figure-four lock, I bid you adieu … WOO!



I found this pic online; it was taken at St. Patrick’s Cathedral in NYC.  I think it’s beautiful and depicts this day wonderfully.  Wish I was there right now.

Perhaps, however, I should be sitting in a room like this today:


Truth be told, as much as I need it, I’m not all that crazy about any kind of therapy, group especially, but that’s jus’ me.

It’s been like a wicked long time since I posted.  I haven’t felt inspired, and I really don’t want to bring people down with what I write.  However, in the same token, I feel like I have sort of an unwritten oath to share everything, good and bad, as I have over the past year or so, to maybe help just one person.  I’ve always promised to be real, and I’ve found reading things online that others who suffer from bipolar and/or alcohol dependence have written to be very helpful in reminding me that I’m not alone.


I really did.  Being manic was fun and provided me with lots of antics to write about.  I was much more excited about life.  Granted, I had no idea I was in the throes of a manic episode from, say, November of last year til a couple months ago.  Now that I look back, I can’t believe the insane things I said and did.  Some of it is downright embarrassing and humiliating, but I still can say I had a blast—the  month of May when I traveled was the best in my life.  However, I have dug myself into a HUGE financial hole, which, unfortunately, is very typical in this disease.  I will share my thought processes during it all over some of my future posts.

These two cartoons do very well to explain both sides of bipolar:


I don’t really expect everyone to understand; it’s almost impossible to unless you’ve been through it or know someone well who has.

I want to keep my posts as positive as possible whilst (I love how the British say whilst) still depicting the awful curse that I feel bipolar to be.  The depression side, which I’m still in now, is quite paralyzing to say the least, and that is why I haven’t posted … haven’t had the gumption.  Yes, gumption is a word.  Per WordNet, it means noun: fortitude and determination.  Ok, so what is fortitude?  Per WordNet again, fortitude is noun: strength of mind that enables one to endure adversity with courage.  Yea it’s gonna take some courage to share my nonsensical ways of thinking over the last year that have led to utter adversity.

BUT … I’m sober and I’m still smiling …


Sometimes anyway!  Smile with tongue out



Cute pic, eh?  Haven’t felt like blogging lately.  I’ve got a lion on my back in the form of a depressive episode.  I really didn’t want to write about it because I don’t want to come across as negative, but I figure I’ve gotta keep things real.  I started the section on depression (now called tackling dual disorders) a long time ago, and it doesn’t seem right to just ignore that depression is very much a part of my life, as it is many others per the statistics.  Anyway, I’ve sunk into one, and I had been blaming it on this:


A li’l blue pill.  No, not THAT li’l blue pill but the one above … Abilify.  It’s what I’m taking for bipolar I.  It’s working great for the manic part of manic-depression.  I’ve been thinking that this med has thrown me into depression and have been trying to get an appointment with a psychiatrist to prescribe an antidepressant; that is what the shrink at the rehab facility recommended.  Easy peasy, right?!  Ha!  Not in Western North Carolina.  My case manager and I called ALL over the place.  For one thing, nobody would take Blue Cross/Blue Shield; some would only take Medicare or uninsured folks I reckon.  I even offered cash to one facility – no go.  Welcome to the wonderful world of healthcare in the good ole U. S. of A.


Long story, short, I did get an appointment someplace, just a preliminary screening, not to actually see a person who can prescribe pills on the first go around.  It was a start at least.  As it turns out, all they have is a nurse practitioner to prescribe meds–no psychiatrist–and I can’t see her until December 18.  I’m depressed NOW damn it!  Sooooo, since I have such a good rapport with my local counselor and my local regular doc, I’ve made appointments with them and get to see ‘em next week.  Yay!  That’s the route I wanted to take to begin with, but I had to satisfy my case manager at Swain Recovery, who wanted to satisfy the shrink and get me an appointment with a bona fide, school-learned, certified psychiatrist.  Had we done things MY way, I’d already be taking an antidepressant by now, hehe.  Oh, and my counselor told me on the phone that Abilify does not cause depression.  Depression is just part of bipolar.  I liked blaming it on a pill better for some reason.  Stop taking the pill; stop the depression.  Not the case.  I need the pill.


So how do I know I’m depressed?!  I do a lot of research.  I know the way I feel isn’t the way anyone should feel.  I know I’ve got some serious issues I need to deal with, and I just don’t feel like it.  I won’t say I don’t care, but it’s sorta like that.  I do care; I just don’t have whatever it is to get me moving.  Doesn’t make much sense, I know.  Here’s an interesting table of symptoms of depression.  Click to enlarge, if interested; it shows male vs female symptoms:


Ya I’ve got a bunch of those symptoms.  What’s bizarre I think is being so aware of my situation.  I’m not sure my mom was completely aware that what she had was an illness.


She’s on the top right … I like this old pic, and howzabout her hairdo?  Anyway, with this episode, I’ve been comparing myself to how my mom dealt with things and really making a great effort to not fall so far into the abyss that it’s impossible to climb out.  Ya see, when one is depressed, it is difficult for him or her to do the normal ADLs (activities of daily living).  Simple things like taking a shower can at times take great effort (no worries–I took one today).  My mom would lock herself up in her room until it passed and let her dirty laundry pile up, while I’ve been forcing myself to exercise each day and to get at least a couple things done daily whether that is bringing in some wood for the fire or cleaning a room or doing a load of laundry or whatever.  Meantime, I’m trying to do what my mom is in the above pic and what she always advised me to do … “Keep smilin’.”


Y’all do the same for me and my mom … mmmK?!



Is it not totally cool that I found this black and orange mish-mash sign thingy?  I know, maybe not to you, but to me it is oh so cool.  I got an e-mail from some photography site saying to avoid the color orange.  Really?!  That’s my new favorite color, fer cryin’ out loud.  Isn’t it a huge part of sunsets?  Whatever … I like to buck the system.  I’m keepin’ orange.  Besides, back when I used to go to year round school, I was in the orange group, so there’s a sign, right?


After all, my logo is orange.  Well, no it isn’t, but if you mix the red with yellow, what do you get?  Uh, orange.  That’s what I’m talkin’ about.  And my lion tattoo, when I get it, is gonna have tons of orange.  It’s gonna look like this but more colorful minus the nipple effect:


I want it to look like a lion breaking out of my skin—unleash da beast, get it?!  I want it on my shoulder/arm.  Then on the other shoulder/arm I want a li’l lion cub like this:


Why?  Good question.  I can’t explain.


So, what have I been doing since I’ve been outta rehab?  I’ve been going to intensive outpatient, by choice.  This consists of 3 hours (5p-8p) every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday.  Here’s the kicker … having been in law enforcement makes this a bit difficult.  I know things about some of the peeps there that I shouldn’t know.  Some recognize me, some don’t.  No matter, it’s awkward.  I certainly don’t think I’m better than them; it’s just uncomfortable.  Pretty sure I’ve been to my last IOP meeting …no offense y’all.


As well, I’ve been going to this place.  I think I’m gonna glom onto what they offer.  Classes on finances, self-esteem, recovery, etc.  I tend to look at things thru rose-colored glasses, but I’m-a hopin’ this type of setting is just what I need.


I’ve also STILL had these folks on my arse.  If they only knew how insignificant I really am and how much time their legal folks are wasting on me.  Thankfully, I’ve got a legal team from Suffolk University Law School helpin’ me out.  I’m so gracious for that.  I smell good things coming from this, like bacon.  Bacon smells so good.  Gnite.


Lots of folks have asked me what we do in rehab.  I want to share a little sample of the type of work we do.  Yesterday, we sat outside and spent 15 minutes silently meditating, writing, or doodling … whatever we wanted to do as long as we sat fairly still and didn’t speak.  After 15 minutes, we were to do an assignment.  I was utterly amazed at how quickly I completed this.  It took very little thought; the words just flowed out of my pen like buttermilk (how’s that for a redneck analogy?!):


My responses are in orange.

Beneath This Mask

I put on this mask because … I am afraid.

Beneath this mask I … am a child.

I’m protected from … heartache.

I pretend … all is well.

Beneath this mask I feel … lonely.

I don’t feel … loved.

I touch … no one.

Beneath this mask I look … safe.

I see … everyone else living a good life.

I don’t see … the real me.

Beneath this mask I fear … nothing.

I cry out … please help me.

I worry … nobody will.

I wonder … why.

Beneath this mask I dream … about happiness.

I hope … I find it.

I try … to find it.

Beneath this mask I scream … why the fuck me?

I hurt … deeply.

I’m angry … at my mother.

I need … closure.

Beneath this mask I see the light … and I run from it.

I pray … for peace.

I believe … I will eventually find it.

I understand … I have to in order to recover.

And I dream of the day … I have it.

When I take off this mask … I will celebrate.




Ok so my roar looks a lot more like a yawn, but I got a sore throat trying to get it right so that’ll hafta do.  How do ya like da BeastCap?!  Waste of money, some might say.  I call it a business investment.  Still dunno what my business is gonna be exactly, but I believe this hat will come in handy when I go into corporate boardrooms to pitch my products or services or whatever.  Won’t I look charming?!  I always thought it might be cool to go into elementary schools and talk about self-esteem issues to the youngin’s; they might think this hat is neato keen.  For $9.98, I should get a HUGE return on my investment.  Ya, perhaps I’m still having those grandiose thoughts brought on by bipolar, but I call them ideas, goals, and dreams.  I really think that when I get my proverbial poo together, Unleash da Beast and I have the potential to make a big impact on some folks.


Speaking of da bidness end of UDB.  This is a pic of Suffolk University Law School in Boston, Massachusetts.  A few folks here have been working night and day to prepare for our battle with Monster Energy.  Well, maybe that’s a little overkill, but I can’t express how grateful I am to them for helping me.  All the legal mumbo jumbo just loses me when I try to interpret it.  Da UDB Legal Team has a phone discovery conference with Monster this week, so stay tuned!

And as for the glasses I am wearing … there’s something I SHOULD have spent more recklessly on.  I really needed bifocals, but the eyeglass maker said I could just get reading glasses and switch ‘em out.  I wasn’t ready for bifocals for my first pair (another case of denial).  In fact, I haven’t even been wearing the glasses until today when I realized the images were fuzzy on my 50” TV.  I guess it’s a good thing late hubby insisted on such a large idiot box.

That’s all for now brown cows.  Time to make some homemade jalapeno poppers, something GREEN I discovered that I actually like!  Oh, and that’s how Emeril plates them; mine will be on paper plates.  Plus, he uses panko crumbs to bread them; I will be using crushing pork rinds with some seasonings mixed in (low-carb yummiliciousness).



In all my frantic research to learn everything I can about my diagnosis, I learned that bipolar is often misdiagnosed as depression (unipolar).  That seems plausible to me, although I’m no doctor.  But get this, if someone who actually suffers from bipolar is treated with an antidepressant only, it could very well throw the manic-depressive person into full-blown mania.  You know what people with full-blown mania typically do?  Crazy, irrational, irresponsible stuff like quit their jobs and spend their money recklessly.  Why is this important to me?!


In my desperate attempt to find relief from my monthly bouts of what I thought was PMDD (premenstrual dysphoric disorder), I finally found a doc willing to prescribe me something.  He prescribed Sarafem.  Ever hear of it?  I hadn’t.  It’s the same exact drug as Prozac ‘cept its marketed for PMDD and more expensive when prescribed for PMDD … imagine that.  No matter, though, cuz the doc prescribed me the generic form, which is fluoxetine.  I started taking that in August of 2011.


Three months later, I quit my job, albeit under duress.  A month after that, I borrowed the money for da BeastMobile.  Y’all know the rest of the story (thanks Paul Harvey—love and miss you).  Sold most of my stuff, traveled for a full month, cashed in on my 401K and retirement, blah blah blah.  Can you say 9 months of mania, baby?!


I went to my regular doc yesterday with the recommendation from my counselor on what psych med he wanted to start me on.  My doc’s a li’l crazy himself, in a good way though—he’s a hoot.  He said, “Mania, huh … what’s that like?!  It sounds kinda fun!”  I told him it was a blast at times and that May on the road was the best month of my life but that it had its downfalls as well, like when I’d overmedicate myself by drinking way too much and turn into an evil and obnoxious BeastBitch and lash out at anyone who I’d felt had wronged me in the past.  Don’t be mistaken, it was really fun to get my feelings out on a couple of folks but not something I would’ve done sober.  No regrets though, it is what it is.

And now back to the subject of side effects.


Yes, sweet li’l kittycat, you are fluffy AND really cute!

I know that a lot of psych meds list gaining weight as a side effect.  I also know that a lot of the side effects listed on any med come from a study group, and their headaches, insomnia, weight gain, horns growing from their heads, etc, could very well be caused by something else going on in their lives/bodies.  Pharmaceutical companies simply list them all to protect their ass-ets.  But for the heck of it, I googled the med I’m taking next to the words “weight gain.”  I found several forums where peeps were complaining about significant and rapid weight gain, but there were almost as many saying they’d lost weight on the same drug.  Hmmm.  I weighed myself this morning and am up 2 pounds, BUT up until yesterday I was gorging on ice cream, brownies, and cupcakes for a few days.  Ate six cupcakes in one sitting, dunno what that was all about–I think the frosting’s main ingredient was meth … yea that’s it.

A lot who had gained weight on the med I just started yesterday said it made their appetites increase and they craved carbs and sugar more than they did before taking the med.  So there you have it, back to the low-carb diet STAT!  I can’t afford new clothes.

Y’all have an awesome weekend, ya hear?!  Smile with tongue out



I’m such a dolthead.  I don’t really mean that, but back on May 10 while on my Unleash da Beast US Tour, I made a post with a pic of me that said this is the face of insanity.  But I was talking about the red, sweaty face of a girl who had just completed a workout called Insanity.  Little did I know that five months later I’d be certifiably BSC!  And to those of you who say dolthead isn’t a word, you obviously have not checked the Urban Dictionary, which I reckon will replace Merriam-Webster and the rest of the elites by the year 2015 (all part of the dumbing of America).  Here’s what da UD sez:

1. dolthead — A complete idiot who doesn’t know what he’s doing.

Well then … clearly by this definition, a dolthead can only be male so that excludes me!  So why am I making another post today?  I dunno, killing time, plus I got some supercalifragilisticexpialidocious news today, and I am loaded with hope.



I have a date for intake at rehab.  Once I realized that was concrete, I went nutty.  I was like, “OMG I gotta find a place for Sammie to stay and someone to watch my house.  I need twin sheets to bring.  Oh wait I ordered them yesterday from Amazon, but I ordered gray sheets cuz they were the cheapest and my blankets are brown, that’s gonna look stupid but I like looking stupid, OMG, OMG, OMG, and oh Lordie I better go to Wal-Mart cuz, well cuz I need, I need, I need.  I need warm clothes cuz those places are notoriously igloo-ish, and I need snacks, oh that’s right we can’t bring our own snacks.  There goes the gummy worms soaked in vodka (kidding).  Well maybe I could sneak in some M&M’s.  There must be SOMETHING I need at Wally-World.”  Sheeeit.  I have plenty of warm clothes, but I did go to Wal-Mart — only cuz I was about outta toilet paper.  As far as what I actually need for rehab … well there are more things I need to do than to buy.

On another note, today is Monday and it’s rained all day in my neck of the woods.  So the first song I brought up on youtube this morning was this one:

And then it dawned on me, with all the research I’ve done, I’d be willing to bet Karen Carpenter suffered from bipolar.  Just listen to the words of the song and study her history.  I shared the other day that Robin Williams suffers from bipolar as well as alcoholism.  This made me more curious about what other well-known folks are/were afflicted; I mean, like, what other names can I drop to make myself feel better?  There are lots, but I will refrain simply because the internet can be such an unreliable source.  Google your own name and you may just see what I mean.  Last time I Googled mine I found out I was a porn star.  So not true.


So anyway, I’ve got someone to take care of my beautiful baby, and I found someone to stay in mi casa while I’m gone.  It’s amazing how much one can get done when there’s a light at the end of the tunnel.  That said, I love this song and I can connect with this woman … if ya catch my drift … NO NAME DROPPING HERE!



Nah, I’m not really panicking … freaking out a little?  Perhaps.  But it’s all good; I’m on the right path.  Howzabout a li’l:


Sounds good to me.  Once again, not sure that I’ve been officially diagnosed, or maybe it just hasn’t been decided if I am of the I or II variety.  I am 99.9% sure I suffer from what in the past has always been known as manic-depression.  I’ve talked about the depression stuff; now I wanna talk about mania signs and symptoms.  I’ve perused and taken notes from several different medical sources on the interwebz.  Gonna list some signs and symptoms and add my thoughts based on my behavior for the past 9 months:

  • Flying suddenly from one idea to the next.  I do that in my mind, I do that when I talk, I do that when I clean house, I do that when I type, I do that when I … etc.
  • Rapid, “pressured,” and loud speech.  My speech is rapid (I’m a Yankee after all) and often pressured.  I guess I can be loud too, but I always blamed that on having a husband who was hard of hearing.  I’ll give this one a check mark.
  • Increased energy, with hyperactivity and a decreased need for sleep.  Yes on the increased energy and yes I’m hyperactive.  I thought decreased need for sleep was a no until I was reminded that when I’m not passing out from drinking or taking a sleep aid, I don’t sleep much.
  • Inflated self-image.  Who me?!  Come on now, y’all know I’m awesome.  Hahaha!  Alright, I’ll give this one a check mark too.
  • Excessive spending.  But I really need to unleash my beast at whatever cost.  Ya gotta spend money to make money, right?!  Done spending but still waiting on making … check mark.
  • Hypersexuality.  Well, well so I’m NOT a nympho … AMEN!  ’Nuff said.
  • Substance abuse.  ABSOLUTely.
  • Talking very fast, jumping from one idea to another, having racing thoughts.  All three, like wicked bad.  The thoughts race so fast I hear a buzzing in my brain worse than the sounds coming from the Daytona Speedway during the 500.
  • Being easily distracted.  10-4 … one reason I couldn’t hack that transcription job.
  • Increasing goal-directed activities.  Hmmm … would that be like packing up 80% of my belongings and shoving them into the garage?  There’s more, but I won’t bore y’all.
  • Being restless.  Roger that – I have a hard time sitting still.
  • Sleeping little.  Only when I don’t artificially induce sleep by drinking or taking a pill.
  • Having an unrealistic belief in one’s abilities.  Some might say so; I don’t think so. Pretty sure if I jumped off the Empire State Building I could fly all the way back here to NC (not).
  • Behaving impulsively and taking part in a lot of pleasurable, high-risk behaviors, such as spending sprees, impulsive sex, and impulsive business investments.  Jumpin’ Jupiter … can you say ALL OF THE ABOVE?!

And then there are mixed episodes, depression and mania.  I think that’s where I am right now. It is my goal to raise awareness of mental illness.  It is a disease no matter what some folks say. Nobody in his or her right mind would make this shit up — capisce?! It will take me a while to get going though so bear with me.  I’ve got some hard work ahead to get myself on an even keel.

Happy Monday!!!  Smile with tongue out


plural limbos

Definition of LIMBO

1  often capitalized : an abode of souls that are according to Roman Catholic theology barred from heaven because of not having received Christian baptism

2 a : a place or state of restraint or confinement

b : a place or state of neglect or oblivion <proposals kept in limbo>

   c : an intermediate or transitional place or state

Extreme Limbo (not from Merriam-Webster):


Here we go, so #1 doesn’t apply … been baptized.  Let’s look at #2a—a place of restraint or confinement.  Well, I am feeling a bit confined of late, but that has more to do with not having a vehicle other than da BeastMobile, and I realize now that my neighbor was right when he said, “That ain’t no grocery getter,” but it does in a pinch; I love driving that big ole clunker.  I owe a few people a huge thanks for allowing me to ride with them to town so THANKS!  Hope that’s big enough, didn’t wanna change the font size cuz that’d wreak havoc on the rest of the page. Howzabout #2b—a place or state of neglect or oblivion.  Well, I’ve been neglecting myself in a sense.  Haven’t been eating right or exercising, but I have been arranging the help I need.  I feel like I’ve been neglecting Sammie Sad Eyes a li’l, although she sleeps most of the time.  She is plagued with an environmental allergy, scratching herself raw in places.  I’ve been giving her Benadryl but feel like I should be doing more.  As far as oblivion, only when I’m drinking, which I haven’t been for a couple days.  But it looks like Webster is attributing this definition to things like paperwork and stuff, unless I am misunderstanding.


So on to #2c—an intermediate or transitional place or state.  THAT’S IT!  The hat without a jacket indicates I am transitioning between Fall and Winter (a li’l early).  Jus’ being silly … y’all know I wouldn’t be my arrogant self if I didn’t include at least one mug of my darling face.  Again … jus’ being silly.  And the extreme limbo, definitely not me.  If that was me in the pic above, my hips would’ve ripped from their sockets, I would be flat on my back, and my heels would be up by my ears … not to mention I’d be writhing in sheer pain and violently flailing my arms around begging for help.  But seriously, I do perceive myself as being in an intermediate or transitional place or state.  Found an image that describes the way I’m feeling rather well:


Holding on for dear life.  Granted, it’s not quite that dramatic for me.  I see this li’l guy looking down, knowing that the statistics of peeps in his position clearly indicate that his chances of coming out of this completely unscathed are nil, and it’s quite possible that things will get a lot worse before they get better; however, he’s also done some research and is well aware that his situation is not as hopeless as it sometimes seems.

So here it is:


Since my appointment on Thursday night, which went really well, I’ve done tons of research on bipolar disorder … some of which really hit home.  Most of what I’ve read has helped me understand my actions and behavior a whole lot better and some scared the bejeepers out of me.  That said, I’ve not been officially diagnosed with the disorder, but I’m quite intelligent and can read the writing on the wall.  But then again, I once thought I was having a heart attack based on something I’d read on the web … I’m kidding … I kid … I’m a kidder.

I found a great book on dual diagnoses (mental illness and addiction) called “The Dual Disorder Recovery Book,” author anonymous.  There is one part that I disagree with as it applies to me, but I do understand the author’s thoughts and how they apply to many folks diagnosed with a mental illness.  He feels the social stigma of same may hinder one’s recovery, opening sufferers up to prejudice from family, friends, and others and even discrimination, particularly employment discrimination.  He said, “What we don’t understand we often fear, and it is this fear that produces prejudice, discrimination, and stigma.”  He is right.

My situation is different in that I have no employer to worry about firing me; I will cross the employment bridge after alcohol rehab and stabilization of my mental illness … hence the “limbo” I am in waiting for treatment.  I have a handful of friends and family members, actually 2 or 3 handfuls, and they are all extremely supportive of me despite my issues (BSC for those who remember what that stands for).  I actually think it’s my BSCness that they embrace, hehe. They realize that my writing and sharing of it provides me great therapeutic benefits.  I’ve lost some friends due to my issues, and I will make amends to them at a later time and then, most likely, continue separate paths.  Everything happens for a reason.

Might make another post later … trying to creatively kill  time while in limbo.  Thanks for keeping up with me.

© 2011 Unleash da Beast Suffusion theme by Sayontan Sinha