I Am Having Crying Spells! Damn!

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He Said Lamb Not Ham

I took 4mg of Clonazepam and it’s finally kicking in to calm my brain down. Why was I crying? F*ck if I know.  I’m scared that I’m slipping back into depression.

I’m so glad my little girl is with her dad today. She doesn’t need to witness mommy crying for no reason.

I’m sorry, but I’m too old for this crap. I know I can’t feel sorry for myself or it just makes my “symptoms” worse. I should be in bed now or my “symptoms” may get worse. But,  I’m compelled to write when I’m feelin blue. Can I help it if I began to feel bad at around my bedtime? Oh, man I’m going to hear it from my therapist next week. You know you need to be in bed your f*cking I can’t remember the name or how to spell the thing. Wait! My Circadiam cycle will get out of wack. No, that’s not the word. But I just took 4mg of Clonazepam.

The good news is I’ve stopped crying. Thank you Clonazepam. Always thank the meds that work for you. It’s proper medication etiquette. 😉 Well, I’m finally feeling sleepy. So, I will go to bed.


Two Posts in One Day-Is Depression Back?

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No. Just wanted to share more of my father’s work. Notice the gray haired bearded man? That’s my father. He hates attention, but loved to put himself in his paintings. Like the very artists he is emulating.

Both my father and my brother are gifted artists. But, they have worked very hard at their craft. They would never go to therapy. I know my dad thinks it’s a bunch of bull shit. I’m a talker. I guess that’s why I don’t need to express my feelings by painting. I like therapy. But, it costs so damn much. So, maybe more posts will do me some good. And, I will eventually go to therapy once every 2 weeks. There was a time when I was told I didn’t need to come-I was the hypo-manic patient they failed to recognize. Years later  EVIL depression paid me a long visit. Back to therapy and pdoc.

Is It No Surprise I Have Bipolar II?????

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My dad painted this on his barn ceiling when he was well. It’s beautiful. But, he’s atheist. In our home,when I was growing up,  the words church and God were treated, by my father as “bad” words. I could get away with cursing. But, speak of God? I’d be an “idiot”.

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