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How do you heal?  How do you heal after a devastating loss?  How do you heal when someone just disappears for no reason?  How do you fucking heal when your daily routine Has changed?


With my Bipolar Disorder and the way I’ve been, I crumple.  Whenever there is some kind of upset in my world, I just freeze, then turn inward and freak the fuck out.  It’s this constant GIF-whatdoidowhatdoidowhatdoido.  Repeated.  over and over and fucking over.  I can’t turn it off.  I can’t quiet it down, let alone silence the fucker.  I become paralyzed with fear.  I need routine.  I need consistency.  I need the pattern.  But here’s the fucked up part about it.  If I change the routine, I’m kosher.  I can handle and deal and adapt.  But if some outside force or person comes in and fucks up my shit, I’m done.  I fucking panic.  Fight, Fright, or Flight.  I go BEYOND that.  I go into complete shutdown mode-but only mentally.  It’s like my body goes on auto pilot.  It’s fucking scary.

So how do I change this?!  How do I break that fucking cycle?!?  Fuck if I know.


There’s no god damned rule book or instruction manual on how to handle shit as it’s thrown at you.  Sure “normal people” adapt.  I’m not fucking normal.  I hate that word-“NORMAL”  WTF is it ANYWAY?!  I have to have shit done my way.  I have to be the one in control of my life.  I have to be the one that knows what’s best for me on how to heal from all the past traumas I’ve been through.  I’m so god damned sick and fucking tired of people telling me how to heal.  Mother fucker you haven’t walked a god damned INCH in my shoes.  You aren’t in my mother fucking head.  You don’t hear the shit I hear, or feel the fucking shit I do.  So don’t you fucking DARE tell ME how the fuck to heal my wounds.  I have to do this on my own, my way.

I made the choice to let Florida back in my life.  I CHOSE to love him.  Now I have to choose on how to heal from his absence.  The hard part is, some days I don’t WANT to heal from it.  The pain lets me know that it was real, that it happened, that I’m ALIVE and that I’m fucking HUMAN and I’m god damned fucking CAPABLE of love after the years I was told I wasn’t worth two cents.  That I am deserving of love that is selfless and selfish.  That I don’t have to be the one to always give give give and get shit in return.  Days like Saturday are fucking HARD and fucking AWFUL and they’re god damned unbearable at times.  Then I remember those hours spent talking to Florida and I’m reminded that the ONE fucking person that triggered me is nothing more than a sad miserable individual and he doesn’t know any better.  That’s when I pity him, feel sorry for him.  For such a wonderfully BEAUTIFUL moment in my life, someone made me feel important and wanted and loved and lucky and every other positive word out there.  Most important-he loved me for who I am.  He loved me for my Bipolarity, my Postapartum depressive self, my seething, redheaded scorpion womanly self.  He loved my capacity to love the unlovable and unwanted-even if he didn’t understand, really.  He loved my honest nature.  He loved to make me laugh, and he loved to challenge me to be a better person all around.  He loved me for all the flaws I saw as imperfections and reason to be unloved, and he saw the beauty in my when I never did.  He loved me for me.

I’m thinking of making a video and putting it on a flash-drive to send to him…it’s a thought that may turn into an obsessive one.  Today I want to heal.  Who’s to say that I’ll want to tomorrow?  I don’t.  I just take each day as it comes and live it to the best of my ability, haters be damned.

My Meme*I made this Meme from one of my Florida Pictures