I was about to get all of my stuff moved out of my mom and brothers house today thanks to my friend Megan. She was the one who helped me move into my moms, and now she was the one to help me move out of my moms. I know Mike would have helped too if my family wouldn’t have been so damn stubborn to not allow him in the house to help me. I got to be Max for like a minute, and then when I came back up from the basement he was gone. That only means that they took him upstairs and hid him from me again.
I didn’t even get to F-in say goodbye to him because of them. I am pretty sure I am going to use the paperwork and proof that he is mine to get try to get him back. Even though I cannot have him at the apartment, I would like him to go to Jazmine’s so that I would be able to him every now and then. That would be nice. I know while he is at my mom’s I have absolutely zero chances of seeing him again. I had him since he was a puppy. They can all go f*** themselves right now at this point. I even have a form of proof where my mom confessed to someone that he was my dog so she cant try to say that he was never mine.
I don’t have to edit what I say now since I don’t have to worry about them screwing me over, more than they already have, and try to keep my s***. My heart feels heavy and weighed down. I am just so angry with that at everything that they have done, and for everything that they have put me through. If someone were able to read my thoughts, I would probably end up in a locked facility somewhere since my intrusive thoughts are pretty gruesome. I want to act on my impulsive thoughts, but I know that is not a good idea. They aren’t worth it.
I can’t deal with these feelings that want to boil over. I want to resort back to old ways of coping. Unhealthy ways of coping. I feel so f***ing broken and I just want to lose control of myself. I need to find a way to get these feelings out because holding on to them is not healthy. I want to journal so bad, and more than anything, but every time I try putting a pen to my journal, I write a few sentences before I give up and cross out what I wrote. I don’t know why I can’t even journal but it is seriously eating me alive.
I have always been the type to journal for hours on end, just getting out every last thought. It’s odd because I can focus on writing my articles, and the occasional blog post, but journaling seems to be subconsciously off limits. I just want to cry and I don’t know if it’s out of sadness, anger, or a combination of the two. I feel f-ing irritable as all hell too. I can’t believe this whole ordeal has even happened to me, again.
If something goes wrong between Mike and me, which I am hoping it really doesn’t, I’ll be left with nothing and nowhere to go. I f***ing have nothing left, no more options. This is a massive amount of trust for me to be putting on to somebody else. This is a bittersweet tragedy. I gained back what I wanted, which was my life back, but I ended up losing something in the process. One step forward, two steps back.
Maybe it really isn’t hate that I am feeling, after all, maybe it’s just anger and hurt disguising itself as pure hate. I can honestly say that I don’t know what to do right now. I just don’t want to hurt anymore. I… I’m done. 😦
I know my bipolar disorder is not helping me to feel any better. If anything, being bipolar is making me feel so worse than what a ‘normal’ person would feel.
Samantha is the author of "My Bipolar Mind: You're not alone," she is also a freelance writer, blogger, and mental health advocate who runs and manages her own mental health blog MyBipolarMind.com.