This was one of the days that hell on Earth broke free from my brain. I had planned it to the last second. The amount of Thorazine I would take and beers I would add on top of it. I followed my instructions and wrote my letters. I did everything the way it was written out but still it didn’t work. I begged and screamed to be left alone. I locked myself in a room and wouldn’t answer the police or paramedics. Why wouldn’t they just fucking go away? Oh yeah, they aren’t paid to do that. I’m sure they wanted to considering they were dealing with a 41 year old woman whom they probably thought was acting like she was 2 or maybe 5 or 16.
I begged for my right to die. I don’t have to live do I? Apparently you don’t get that right to decide. I was involuntarily committed to the worst county hospital around and fought them tooth and nail about rights. By the way, you do not get to decide if you want to live or die, they decide. I learned I don’t get a right to decide, I also learned that they will slam you the fuck up against the wall if you say fuck this shit and not take medication. All and all I was lucky compared to the guy who could break through the walls of the rooms because of anger. Dude was mad. I wasn’t even that mad. And then….he was as chill as a fucking ice cream cone.
I always have it planned x4 but don’t have it in my mind to do it x4. Right now….I’m stable and don’t have to see my psychiatrist for 6 months. (YES)
Ya know just sitting here on my first cup of coffee reading you fine people. Keep it simple y’all!
Obviously The Countess has been gone and now she’s back for right now. Howdy.
I’ve been there and here, everywhere. I’ve done this, that, and stuff. I’m still an Alcoholic and Bipolar. I still love green, bats, Jason Statham, and coffee. I’m a little more sarcastic and a little less caring. I’m the woman in a room with the keg nodding like I give a shit.
I now have a 16 year old daughter who actually digs me (tell her I said digs, she’ll love that) and an 11 year old boy who is challenged with mental illness issues. It’s sweet to see him trying so hard. I feel for him to feel that way at 11. I’m 42 and I’m fucked, he’s 11 and hopeful.
Jason Statham hasn’t noticed me and Bayern Munich is losing their shit (get it together guys), I now have an Nespresso and am wired, always.
I’m pissy and happy, at the same time.
I’m Countess Bats. I’m doing pretty ummmm normal.
And all of that was insignificant information so Hi.
Who knew people who are having issues with mental health are so arrogant? No seriously, who knew?
I’m going to call him Fred, I’ve never met a Fred so I’m calling him that. Fred needs a lot of help, I’m doing my best to be patient and point him in the right direction. I want to slam my head in a door at this point. If I hear ‘I’m not going to kill myself over this…’ one more damn time….
See Fred just discovered mental illness. Fred has decided that he thinks the sentence “I’m not suicidal but…” is normal. I’m not one for normal but c’mon man! Damn you listen to me!
I’ve given all my links, phone numbers and even called for a well check up for him. Hands up, I’ve got nothing else. I continue to listen and be gentle but damn it man, fuck. I can only stay up for so many nights in a row.
Who knew people were this much trouble? No seriously, who knew?