When my filter shuts down...

   Usually, I try to be polite with most things I say.  However, sometimes my mouth speaks a lot faster than I can process the fact that what I just said was inappropriate.  I do this quite often, even without knowing a lot of times.  It's only when we get home and my husband reminds me that the things I say can often be hurtful and then I am reminded that I sometimes suck.

   The things I say are usually impulse thoughts and not the way I really feel.  For that moment in time when I am too busy inserting my foot in my mouth, it's like I'm absent and I don't even realize that not everyone in the world understands what it's like to be an asshole without knowing.  I willfully admit that I am an asshole and I have said some very hurtful things that I don't mean but that I know will hurt someone and I say it only because at that moment, I am hurt.

  I wish that there was a way for me to pause myself before I say most things because in life, there is no rewind button.  You don't get a redo.  You can't take away things that you say that hurt others.  I know this because I too am a victim of assholes.  I remember most hurtful things that people say or have said to me and I have a hard time forgetting no matter what.

   The medication I'm on makes me forget the most basic of things, like what I was going to do, simple words, what I did five minutes ago... etc... but it can't make me forget assholey things that have been said to me.

   I also harp on things that I said.  I want to take 90% of the hurtful shit I've said back, but I can't.  I can just sit and ponder and worry that the people I love won't love me anymore.  I do this for hours.  I dream about it and even after weeks have past, I get that awful feeling in the pit of my stomach.

   It really fucking sucks because I'm stuck in this roller coaster of emotions and I don't usually fast cycle so I'm stuck being depressed for long periods of time.  I rarely get manic.  This may sound like a good thing for some, but for me, I'd rather be manic because that's when I'm most creative.  I don't need sleep (I can't get any at least) and I don't want to just stare at the wall as I often do when I'm depressed.  I'm not as lost in my head, but then during my mania, I can sometimes be a super asshole without even realizing what a dick I am because I can't stay focused on just one thought... then once my super asshole action is brought to my attention, I drop into a deep depression and can't let it go.

   I feel that right now.  I feel like my mind is just shutting out everything else and just making me think of every asshole thing I've done.  I cry a lot.  I cry when I don't mean to.  I cry when I don't want to.  I cry constantly.

   I'm not even sure that what I've written  makes any sense because I can't think straight.  I hate being bipolar so much.  I hate having all these issues that make me a nightmare.  I hate that I can't even understand why anyone would love me.

Dogs, Dogs, Do- SQUIRREL!

   Okay, so I know I haven't really been funny lately (if you ever though I was semi funny) I've just been kinda writing mindlessly and quickly for that matter just to say, "hey, I'm still blogging, I'm not a total asshole."  Although, I reread my last blog and was like, WTF was that?  I know I'm pretty incoherent sometimes (I blame bipolar) but it for the most part made like no sense.  This time, I'm going to TRY to stick to making some sort of sense.
   As some people know, I've been spending a lot of time with my dad after his heart surgery because of this, I'm tired as fuck.  HOWEVER, I have been hit by the creative bug.  I have been doing a lot of stuff with graphs and crochet.  I have a shit ton of fun creating.  With this type of crochet I get to also add in another one of my favorite types of art, which is drawing.  CW gets a kick out of seeing things that I draw then crochet.  I just have fun doing it all.  I also like the whole editing as I go.  It's pretty cool to be like, "this doesn't work." erase, then problem solve... I love it.
   I also taught my mom how to make granny squares.  It's pretty cool to watch her do something other than random crochet.  I like her random designs but I also like to see her follow a bit of a pattern.  This shows her how important counting is in crochet.  She's fast too.  I love it.  She reminds me of Ofie in Waking Up in the Land of Glitter by Kathy Cano-Murillo (the speed crochet part, nothing else).  She's not making multi colored granny squares yet, but still, bad ass.
   I've missed my dogs.  I rarely get to see them except for a few hours in the evenings.  Then, they are a bit clingy.  I give them a buncha treats.  CW says they're on diets and I need to stop, "but they're babies!" I retort, "No, they're fat and old."  He says.  He's right, but I miss them and I want them to be happy.
   This morning when I came to pick CW up (I woke up early to be with my dad) Jasper was jumping at the front door trying to get to me but CW wouldn't let him and I stood back and just waiting and my heart broke a little because I wanted to hug him before I left again for another few hours, so CW opened the front door and Jasper was so happy, he made my heart smile.  I was in a good mood for the entire morning.  Not that I don't find my parents' dogs endearing, but they aren't my precious babies.
   In fact, Mischief (the name fit perfectly this morning), my parents' one year old rottie pup dug a huge frickin hole in the back yard and when I looked outside to let them back in and saw half her body in the hole, my jaw dropped.  I went outside and just sat on the bistro set for a few minutes to take it all in and she came up to me with a muddy face (it rained last night) and wiped it all over my maxi dress.  So I went back inside and put on my flip flops and the little brat had the nerve to jump on the back door.  I sighed a bit as I went back out and grabbed a shovel, she usually barks at my mom and fights with my mom whenever my mom grabs a shovel, rake, broom or any kind of yard work tool so I was worried, but I had no problems.  I'm also a little more dominating over Mischief than my mom is, so I guess I can understand why Mischief did nothing.  She did kind of lay in her hole as protest but as I threw dirt in her hole, she moved.  It took a lot of frickin dirt in the damn heat PLUS it was humid today too!  This desert rat is NOT used to humidity.  I covered the hole, stomped it down with the shovel AND my feet.  She looked at me with her big brown eyes filled with sadness and then wanted back inside.  I do NOT feel bad.
   I covered the hole because although it's not my yard, I didn't want my ma to have to deal with it after having to be at work all day.  I'm not always a complete asshole.
   So now I'm home, my furry ones are asleep.  Yes, I gave them a treat when I came in.  My Jasper lays at my feet as I type.  They say his with his breed, once they pick someone, that's the person they are devoted to for life.  I'm lucky he picked me.  Granted, I didn't even want to keep the little shit, he was SO destructive when he was a puppy, he chewed my laptop cord, our front bathroom door, our rugs, our couch, our front bathroom wall... but in the end, he was worth it and I'm glad CW talked me into keeping him.  He completes our family really well.