venusgypsy











{July 10, 2013}   chaos…

I don’t know the words. Dont know how to explain the hell I am in. It switches on and off. No pattern, no warning. My chest gets tight and my heart beats hard and fast. My throat closes up and I can’t speak. My face gets hot, and I hear a loud noise, a combination of ringing and white noise. I am paralyzed, by fear? Guilt? Dread? I can’t leave the house. The only way to avoid it is to sleep. 24 hours a day if I can. I would rather die than live like this forever. (But hey, I said the same thing when I had chickenpox…)



{May 22, 2013}   Frog stew…

Its 230 am. I can’t sleep. The frogs and coyotes seem to think its a night at the Apollo. I don’t believe in killing animals unless you are going to eat them. So I’ve got my kimber warrior in my hand and I’m starting the grill. Top chef…



I sit in my bed alone. The silence makes the inside of my ears hot. My eyes burn and water, pushed beyond endurance.

All I see are the yesterdays, all the shadowy days I try to hide from myself, lest they emerge and tear my mind asunder.

But they are here now. If I do not face them one by one, as I have in the past, they will just get louder and uglier, and more truthful.

I just wish I didn’t have to go through it alone.  The very few people I have, can not stand witness to my never ending reals of memories, lest they realize that more than one of the acts committed herein has cast them in the role of victim.



{April 17, 2013}   Stick with me on this one…

WARNING..

If you read the following post you are stating that you are aware of my diagnosis of ADD, and Bipolar, and you are aware that I am completely out of control manic right now, so Im sure it will be random, cuz thats what is going on in my head.

I just finished painting two walls in my much anticipated “Alone Room”…

I suck at painting, according to various reliable sources.

Painting Tips

1. “Cutting in” is not necessary, and in truth is mechanical and stops the flow of true creativity. I have learned that the edge of the prior wall color acts as a frame for your masterpeice.

2. Dont get upset when your significant other goes ballistic about all the paint stains on the new carpet. Try “Grandma’s Secret Stain Remover”. (Not made by my Grandma, probaly not made by anyones Grandma. Probably made by the underpaid and sexually harassed assistant of some man that has B.O.)

3. Do not paint in a well ventilated area. Close all the doors and windows. Feel free to add an ocillating fan, however. Turns the fumes into a breeze of LSD flashbacks. (Say no to drugs…)

4. There is no need for a second coat. Consider the shading and crevices as a faux painting effect that you invented all by youself. Truly beautiful.

5. Take your time. This is not a race, unlike masturbating in you car in the parking lot at Kohls. Chances are someone is going to park next to you, and that, my friends is a bummer. Now I park next door at the used CD resale shop. No one ever parks there, trust me.

6. Dont be upset if you choose the wrong color paint, and your boudoir turns into PeeWees Playhouse. Buy a few pillows from Pier 1 (another excellent parking lot), and pretend you meant to do it and critical visitors have no understanding of abstact art and satire. The Marilyn Monroe clock can still be returned to Walmart. But the Zebra print fur you bought to make into a loveseat slipcover? Just go with it, and remember if PeeWee was still on TV in 2013, Chair-y would have definately been upgraded since animal prints are all the rage in pre-teen bedroom acrosss the country.

one more thing… If you find yourself rolling the paint roller across the wall with out paint on it, thats cool too. Its called practice.

BTW… I got the stain remover at ACE hardware, even if I am still pissed that the smelly overpaid Jackass took all the credit.



{March 29, 2013}   Feeling crazy happy good…

Right now I feel like I could conquer the world. I’m dizzy and shaking from the electricity flowing through my veins. I’ve learned that most people with bipolar disorder have episodes a few times a year… Good or bad, as you can see from my posts, I am different weekly, daily, or from one moment to the next. I’m playing with my kids, taking out the garbage, doing laundry all at once. I feel like I am in fast forward. And I love it. Like a drug, my disorder gets me high. Like a lover, it embraces me and fills me with ecstacy. I dance in the front yard of my high brow suburban neighborhood like a highly experienced stripper, and I don’t care who sees.  But the urges are there, right under the surface, to engage in the behaviors of the past. Walk again down the stairway to rock bottom, where you lose everything.  I somehow clawed my way out of that abyss early last year. I was saved from being a body, without a soul. So now, as I bask in the glow of utter euphoria, I hunger. I want. But I won’t go back to that place. I can’t.



{March 27, 2013}   Red day…

I’m having a red day. I feel like I am going to explode. Tons of energy that can only be used negatively. I’ve never hurt anyone physically in my life. I don’t even spank my kids. But right now the best thing that could happen to me is to have an intruder enter my house so I could commit Justifiable Homicide with my bare hands.  Bring it on…



et cetera