My most sincerest of apologies to my phenomenally courageous like 13 followers who are clearly as mentally unclear as I. I fell of the map. Speaking of maps (and please excuse the all-over-the-placeness) can you BELIEVE that retarded ass rapper who keeps arguing that the Earth is ACTUALLY FLAT because no matter how high up we are, we cannot “see the curve” BAHAHAHA! WOW DUDE. HIGH FIVE!
Anywho…back to my inconsistency with my blog, although I shouldn’t call it that. The truth is I often go through these moments of “stasis” where I put everything on “pause” so that I can analyze my thought-clutter and reorganize my priorities and my goals prior to getting back to “life”. I guess it’s like a mental spring cleaning! Generally though I have been doing a lot of self-re-evaluation and I still haven’t figured out what the fuck direction my blog or my life is headed and while I would love to metaphorically and eloquently compare myself to soft winds or a wild river….just “flowing” along freely, and embracing everything along the way, I’m not fucking wind. And I’m not a fucking river. I’m a physical lard of mass that wears a lot of pink, a lot of body splash, carries a whole CVS in her handbag, and actually takes up space on this planet and does NOT just “flow” with or along anything because it has no sense of balance or direction and trips on any and everything in its path and is in the emergency room with a sprained or fractured ankle a minimum of 5 times per year. So yea. I need to have a plan. I need to know what I am doing and why and where I’m going and how I’m getting there. I’m a pure Libra. Balance baby. Balance. Y
But even having time “off” or “away”… or a beautiful family vacation to the “happiest place on earth” (best vacation EVER but I am very busy venting so stop interrupting me) does nothing for me anymore. Because I’m so busy trying to figure out a method with which to disentangle my own mind fuckery that even THAT buries me deeper into the shithole of Nothing Accomplished Land.
In the end, I am still overwhelmed, socially anxious, overdosing on caffeine pills and Starbucks, and baking as a second means of income because I still have 2 dollars and 17 cents in my bank account until payday despite a full time job. I. NEVER. WIN.
Ah yes. I’m back people.
I think my greatest challenge is that I over think e.v.e.r.y.t.h.i.n.g. I flood my days and nights with so MUCH thinking of I don’t even know WHAT that it’s impossible to feel sure of anything anymore. I don’t know what the fuck I’m doing quite frankly. Take this as a perfect example!!! It can take me 3 weeks to post a blog JUST because I feel like my post needs to be meaningful and impeccable but then by the time I decide to actually write…I’m so damn frustrated about the fact that it took me 3 weeks to write that NOW all I want to write about, is about how frustrated I am at myself for taking 3 weeks to write a post about NOTHING inspiring or meaningfuckinful. VOILA!
I’ve also hit a few bumpy roads in my relationship and finally admit that I have an anger problem or that I must be bipolar. Have you ever done or said something so drastic that you instantly feel like you’re having an out of body experience? Like it feels like someone else took the wheel and forced you to do or say something you can’t even fathom yourself saying or doing? If not then you’re probably a normal functioning member of society. Here’s a cookie for ya…
So the conclusion is that I’ve convinced myself to seek help.
I need all kinds of shitloads of help. I don’t even know if there is such a profession…. I need a combo package for:
Possible bipolar disorder
Laundry management and household maintenance
Goal clarity, evaluation and life coaching for the common sense impaired
Side hustle financial management
I presume this person would have a degree concentrated on TFH Syndrome. Oh that’s a genetic disorder I have…Totally Fucked and Hopeless Syndrome.
I’m not sure I can afford the help but if that means that my side-baking will finance my sanity then so be it. I plan on using my blog as a source for diagnosis and treatment coordinating but on second thought, it may land me in a psych ward. Home sweet home??!
Sigh. Let it be what it shall.