Holy Shit! It has been over 4 months since my last real blog update. I guess I’ve been slacking. I’ve been pretty busy dealing with the stuff life has thrown at me for the last few months. A lot of it has been good… but a lot has been shitty as well. At least I’m still alive, right? I will recap as much as I can remember since November.


Thanksgiving sucked. For the first year I can remember my grandparents didn’t come, neither did anyone else besides mom and . I went to visit my little brother in prison a few times. He is all tattooed up now. They look good though. Prison tats are getting higher quality now, if you can believe that. My mom has been sneaking stuff in for him. I remember when he was a baby and we would visit my uncle she would fill little balloons with bud and put them in his diaper so my uncle could change it and swallow the balloons… how white trash is that?

December was pretty damned eventful. I was out of the effexor and it caused horrible withdrawals and weird thoughts. I had started cutting again, but I always did it on my thighs. But on December 2nd I did it on my left wrist. I just started out with little cuts, then I started going deeper and deeper until blood began squirting out from my severed veins.

I sat there watching in disbelief… seeing the blood land on my desk and drip down onto the floor. I wrote a note, but it was drenched in blood and barely legible. Then I went to the bathroom and kneeled over the bathtub and watched the blood fill the bottom. It was hypnotic at first, but then I snapped out of it and couldn’t believe how much the cutting had escalated.

I began crying and felt completely and utterly ashamed of myself. I had vowed to stop trying to die and I failed again. I knew I had to do something quick or it would be too late. It wasn’t like the times with pills, I couldn’t just throw up and make it go away.

I called Jess. She rushed over. I hated for her to see me in that condition, not to mention the morbid scene. I am so sorry about that. She cried, but she kept her wits about her. She stopped the bleeding. Then she cleaned me and all the blood up. Each one of her tears was a stab to my heart.

In all my past attempts I cleaned up and took care of it myself, but this time I had gotten in over my head and had to get help. That was one of the hardest things I’ve ever had to do, but I’m glad I did. It forced me to realize that what I do to myself doesn’t just hurt me, it hurts those who me. I never really thought anyone loved me until that moment.

Over the next few days, and friends expressed their joy that I was still alive, but then lectured me for trying to kill myself. I promised I would never try anything like that again… I hope I can keep that promise.

After that fiasco, I had to start going back to a therapist. On 12-21-05 I was diagnosed as Bipolar I. I had suspected for years, but I was in denial. I didn’t want to admit I have the same disorder as my parents. My mother’s symptoms are a lot worse than mine. Hers is -intensified. She hears voices and believes the craziest things. Hers is the rarest form of bipolar disorder. I’m not sure about and I really don’t want to know. My symptoms are pretty mild compared to many other peoples’ I have met so far. I have a lot more depressive episodes than ones.

At least now I know why I tried to kill myself again. The medication my primary doctor had put me on back in June is known to cause rapid cycling in bipolar patients, as well as suicides and suicide attempts, especially when the medication is discontinued abruptly. I was finally completely weened off the drug from hell in February. My new are finally lined out and I feel normal. My mood is stable and doesn’t go from one extreme to the other so frequently.

One this that really bothers me is how much surrounds bipolar disorder. It is a serious condition, however, it isn’t as bad as it’s reputation. It is just like except people who have it also go through phases of extreme happiness. I’m not ashamed of being bipolar anymore. It isn’t my fault, it’s just another of life’s obstacles. It is as much my fault as it would be if I had been diagnosed with breast or something like that instead of bipolar disorder. This disorder doesn’t define who I am as a person. My qualities, morals, standards, likes, dislikes, etc are all still the same as they were before the diagnosis. The only real difference is I don’t have the sudden mood shifts anymore because the treatment.

I have broken the cycle with Brian finally. After nine years on that rollercoaster I can say that I have finally closed that chapter. For closure I spent one last night with him in January. He tried to get me back, but I refused. He was shocked. He thought I would always be there to take him back. Not anymore. I have my closure and I’m ready to find a healthy relationship.

I also reassured that I was completely over . We had in January also. I didn’t feel anything for him. It was just great . I haven’t talked with him much since.

I have closure for 2 of the 3 relationships that have dominated my love life. I wish I could say that for the third one who to date was the greatest love of my life, . We fit together perfectly: sexually, spiritually, emotionally, and intellectually. I know these things take time and one day I will have closure. I’m content with the fact right now that my heart has been healed from the wounds caused by Raymond and Brian. I am confident that eventually I’ll be able to say the same thing about . I still wonder if he ever told his wife about me and how close he came to leaving her. Bottom line was I was crazy in love with him but I couldn’t stay with him; my morals and that he would do the same thing to me later were the main reasons.

Hmm, what else? I quit smoking bud again.

I had sex with 19 y/o hottie named Grant.

I’ve been partying alot this month and have been a guy alot older than me for the last couple weeks. This new guy’s name is Brian. He turned 42 a few days ago. We’ve slept together alot but haven’t had sex yet. Apparently, he is old fashioned and wants to wait until we know each other better. That concept is completely alien to me. I’m to have sex, but I feel guilty everytime I think about doing it with someone else, so I guess I just have to be patient. Damn the luck!

On this day..