Today I saw my new psych doc. I really like him. He makes eye contact when I talk to him, and he sits across from me at the same level so I don’t feel like I’m inferior. We talked about my meds and my base line and asked how I was compared to 6 months ago. 6 months ago I was blissfully in love and happy and making plans for a future. He asked what happened and I said the Latuda. I could see him connecting dots in his head, hear the gears working wildly. He’s a smart doc, that one. He talked to me about med options-which I’ve never had or been given before. He said we can keep everything as it is, add in Wellbutrin, or increase the Zoloft. I said I wanted to increase the Zoloft and decrease the Trileptal. The only reason I was started on the Trileptal was because I have such irritability and agitation, but the Klonopin has REALLY helped with that. I want to get off of the Trileptal. I like that the doc is trying to treat me slowly with one thing at a time than trying to treat all the symptoms I present. So I figure it’s quite possible-after talking with the Dear Morgue, that I’ve had more anxiety that’s been treated as more mania, so maybe I don’t need the mood stabilizers as I once thought. Who knows? One thing at a time. So my new med combo will be this:
Klonopin .5mg 2x daily
Zoloft 100mg 1x daily
Trileptal 150mg 2x daily
Low Dose birth control
I’m cool with this. He wants to see me again in 3 weeks. Sounds great to me.
I quit my job today. I didn’t feel I had any choice. I got my appointment times mixed up, and so I called off work because I wasn’t sure how long it would take since it is my first appointment with him. The ED called me back with the scheduler and wanted to know where I was and why this appointment was going to take 5 hours and they don’t know of any doctor’s offices open after 5. I had to put the brakes on that. I said no I’m in Greenwood at Valle Vista with a new doctor. I got the times mixed up and I don’t know how long the appointment will take. The appointment that will take a long time is on Tuesday. My ED told me I needed to get a note on a prescription saying I was there and to come into work after that. Seriously?! What the actual fuck is this shit?! You think I would make this up?!?! I had to get the “note” and come back to mom and dad’s because I had the kids with me. I talked to mom about it, and I said I can’t do this. This shift is fucking with my med schedule and the kids’ sleep schedule, MY sleep schedule, and my shoulder is hurting so badly I can’t sleep on top of that. It’s not my parent’s job to take care of my kids 5 days a week because I was forced to a different shift without being informed or asked. I took my “note”, my scrubs and my name tag in and gave it to the scheduler and said “I quit.” I didn’t even get a backwards glance or a why. Shows you how much I’m valued as an employee. Fuck it.
I feel lighter. I feel a little freer. I made dinner for my family tonight and we ate around the table and talked 😀 My kids are getting showered and are going to be in bed at 10-me too! I’ve already taken my night meds. I’m going to take a shower too-and I’m gonna have my mom help me take my bra off that I’ve been wearing for 6 days. Yeah, that’s the kind of shit that I have to deal with because of my shoulder.
Tomorrow is a new day. Maybe we’ll rent a movie at Redbox. And I’ll color with Monkey’s new sidewalk chalk. I’m going to look into school for a different job altogether. I’m done with health care. My body and my mental health can’t take it. My kids need me more, and my mental health needs to be stable for them. I don’t need this shit, they don’t need this shit, and my PARENTS don’t need this shit. I’m just gonna shake it off, let it go, move on, yada yada yada. 😉
Because even police are cool 😉
Bipolar, Bipolar 1, Bipolar Disorder, Daily Journal, Dealing, Depression, Emotions, Free Writing, Heart Ache, Heart break, Honesty, Journal, Life, Living, Loss, Mental Health, Mental Illness, Moods, Reality, Truth
The emptiness came back. Well, it never really went away. I’ve gotten REALLY good at ignoring it and PRETENDING it’s gone away with the Hypomania. Let’s face it. I’m in trouble. Serious trouble.
And it all started with a bookcase.
The kids are gone with DB for the weekend. My parents just left to go to a friend’s house for the night. I’ve been doing laundry-because it’s cathartic for me, and it’s mundane. I went to Gramma and Grampa’s grave-site. And would you fucking believe the ONE PLACE that brings me peace and serenity I couldn’t get because some old asshole across the street mowed his front lawn THREE TIMES?! I can only assume he was watching me to see if I was going to steal graveside decorations. Pfffbt…what a dick.
The cemetery where my grandparents are buried is beautiful, peaceful, serene. It’s on a side country road at the top of a hill. It’s been there since the 1800’s. The grave markers and headstones are all beautiful. They tell stories of the people who sleep peacefully beneath them. This isn’t one of those creepy and scary cemeteries. I always feel calm and welcomed when I go. I tried sitting on my grandparents headstone-it’s like a bench (it’s what Grampa wanted for when someone wants to visit). But the fucker across the way was on his Cub Cadet riding lawnmower-going like 2 miles an hour-kept mowing his front lawn. I couldn’t concentrate. I did enjoy the organic chocolate bar I got at the store. I had over half of it. I set it on the headstone and the heat melted a little bit of the bottom, and the sunshine made the chocolate soft and pliable. It reminded me of when I would get Hershey’s Special Dark bars across the train tracks and sit on the lawn furniture in the summer at Gramma and Grampa’s. I watched May wander around and since asshole kept mowing we went for a walk around the cemetery. We wandered through the headstones and I read a lot of the dates, and saw LOTS of veterans. I saw kids too. One was a guy DB went to college with. I visit his grave-site too when I go. I wonder if he hadn’t lost his life if they’d still be good friends, and it’s always the same conclusion: They’d be great friends. May and I walked to the back of the cemetery where there are only a few headstones-one was very new. This whole time I kept thinking “Will that fucker just QUIT MOWING?! I need time and quiet to think and talk and just sort my thoughts and feelings. Yes, the anxiety was up, and I’m so glad I had May with me. I even picked up decorations that had fallen over and replaced them. It’s the least I could have done for the families that visit.
So I gathered my unsettled self and stopped at BP for another pop. I had Spotify playing and came “home”. Mom rubbed down my sore arm and shoulder with Deep Blue-she is into the Essential Oils. I personally don’t get it, but to each her own. She helped me to the clothes off the line. I gave myself a little fingernail paint job. I had an Angry “Bird” Orchard. I started more laundry and put the clean stuff away. I wanted to move my bookcase in my bedroom. It fell apart.
So did I.
Short of sitting in the floor and crying my heart out, I took the broken pieces out by the trashcan and I just cried. Fuck I’m still crying. Because instead of feeling upset about anything I feel empty. After EVERYTHING I still feel fucking empty. I feel black and cold and alone and utterly worthless. Part of me just keeps repeating “Just take a couple pills and wash ’em down with Crown. You might wake up tomorrow. No one really gives a shit how you feel or what you’re going through. Your ‘family’ is selfish and they’ll never understand your pain.” Then I have a little tiny but fierce voice that keeps telling me, “Sass you need to fight. You have to show them how strong you are. YOU have to show them they need you more than you need them.”
But it’s so fucking HARD. It’s so hard to keep fighting when you’re alone. And I’m so tired of being alone around people. I’m so fucking tired of feeling empty. I’m so tired of fighting right now. I just want to curl up into a ball and let the black hole suck me in and not let me escape. Music isn’t helping. Movies aren’t helping. My coping mechanisms aren’t helping. Even distractions aren’t fucking helping. I keep telling people I need something…anything…I need help and no one is helping me here. I keep getting brushed off. I keeping yelling and jumping up and down, but I’m invisible. I’m not important here unless I’m fucking manic or so depressed I can’t function. And I’m doing everything I can, and I feel like it’s never going to be good enough.
I turned my phone off because I keep looking at it to see if anyone is even thinking about me. They aren’t. I even reached out to my sister and asked for sister time and I got brushed aside. She told me the might be home around 4 after errands and a couple of birthday parties. She can’t fucking talk to me but she can text our mom all day. She’s apparently at The Fashion Mall at Keystone because one on the stores mom loves is going out of business. Who gives a shit about Sass? Not my fucking family, obviously. They are apparently experts on my life, and know everything about what’s happened since January, and don’t have the fucking decency to talk to me about my life, but can fucking gossip between themselves. It’s like I told DB last weekend: “You don’t get to be concerned about me. 10 fucking years and you chose not to educate yourself on MY mental illness. You have no fucking idea because you’re ignorant. Your choice. Don’t start acting like you care now. And if you were “THAT” concerned, you should have come to ME, not my fucking parents. And BTW, I wasn’t manic or depressed though all of that. I was fucking happy.”
I miss being happy-having THAT kind of happiness…
Don’t get me wrong I’m still happy-I have my kids and I love them and they make me happy in the way a parent loves and is proud and their heart if full of happiness..
But I miss the other kind of happiness. I feel like I’ve lost it and I wont ever get it back…
It’s like a death.
And it all started to make sense because of a bookcase…
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I don’t feel anything, really, today. I’m not numb-at least that’s a feeling. I don’t feel nothing-that’s a feeling of something. I’m empty. There’s nothing in me today. I feel like an old Folgers coffee can-the metal kind that when you bang the bottom is gives you a twangy kind of pong sound back to you. There’s just…space. For once.
My hamster isn’t running fruitlessly in her wheel trying to keep up with the rapid fire thoughts of my ADHD daily routine. There’s no fluff getting stuck in her expensive wheel jamming thoughts like logs at a dam. It’s just empty space. There’s nothing to think about or ponder or be happy or sad or even ANGRY at or over. At least with nothing I can usually follow the carrot back to a reason for the nothing.
I woke up like this today. I dreamt of my Gramma. She was driving a Buick the same color as her beautiful grey hair. It’s so odd because my Gramma hadn’t driven in YEARS! I just remember seeing her driving by on the road and I was like “Oh look. There goes Gramma.” No “Wonder where she’s going?” or “Wait for me Gramma!” as I run after her. Just a Gramma drive-by.
I can’t decide if I like the empty space today. Today is a day I wanted to make a video for Florida then put it on a flash-drive, then send the envelope in a box of goodies for BBF. But I can’t. Because there’s emptiness inside today. No emotions. No thinking or planning. Just being. Sometimes it happens after a crash, the emptiness. Most times I appreciate it, relish it, thank it. Some times I hate it. Today-not a thing. I can’t hate or appreciate it. I can’t anything today. I can’t even be kinda happy or kinda sad. I just….
And it’s kinda fucking frustrating. I need to take care of shit. I need to do the dishes and vacuum-with my good arm, anyway. I did manage to fold the laundry I did last week. It’s still not put away, but folded at least. That took more mental energy than physical energy. I hate days like these when the thinking burns more calories than doing the actual work. I’m sitting in my car yawning from the taxing mental work it’s taking on my brain to do this post, not from the physical peckitty-peckitty across the screen. I can’t even bring myself to change the radio station because the thought of making myself listen to the words makes me exhausted.
Being so damn emotional fucking sucks big bull balls. Not because of how I feel DURING the chaos, but how my fucking body feels AFTERWARDS. Like I’ve worked 2 weeks straight with no time off. I need a vacation from my plummet…ok I just had a TWINGE of sadness for not being able to go to Florida, but it’s ok. It’s gone now. Whew! That had me worried. Aawwww! My little man fell asleep while we wait on his sister. That’s enough of the sweetness. I guess emotions are making me even more sarcastic today-if that’s even possible. Well, at least I’m starting to bounce around different subjects.
But I’m still empty like that metal Folgers can.
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It’s a beautiful day here today and I can’t fucking enjoy it. Im wallowing in such a deep pit of worthlessness that I don’t want to do anything other than curl up under the blanket and shut out the world.
I had a run in with DB. He always makes me feel like shit when we “talk”. It’s always about what I didn’t do and how I took away his daughter’s first everything because I made him work. How I forced him to work to “provide for the family”, but he’s the first to admit he bought his PS2 and bikes because he worked hard and he deserved those. How I use my bipolar mental “illness” to not take care of what I needed too. That im being selfish for going to Florida and not paying my bills, that I have always been about me first and everyone and everything else. That I enjoy mooching off of everyone.
I hate it. I hate that I can’t stand on my own and take care of myself. I hate that my family enables me and when I really try to take control of my life, I’m beaten down and told I can’t do it. That I’m worthless and a failure and I’ll never amount to anything, that I’ll always depend on others to take care of me.
And right now, I feel it. I feel like a failure and worthless and that I’m less than nothing and I’ll never amount to anything other than another body taking up precious space and air for those people that do lead productive positive lives. I feel like utter and complete shit.
And DB is the fucking trigger to it. Because I let him get to me. Because I’m an emotional being and there’s not a rational neuron in my brain. I don’t think and process the way “normal people” do.
Maybe it’s time to be fed to the Sharks to see if I survive. I’m ok with that. Sometimes there doesn’t have to be a plan in order to survive. The glass doesn’t have to be half empty, and 2+2=4, but there are other ways to see it. The glass is half full-or there isn’t even a glass! 1+3=4, 4+0=4. There’s always another way to see things. I choose NOT to see life as half gone, I choose to see it as more to live. What the fuck is wrong with the way I choose to live to support my kids? I don’t have much of a choice for hours to work-I’ll take what I can get. I won’t get rid of my car just to turn around and get another piece of shit to dump more money into. I’ll fix Vivi-and im not asking anyone to pay for it. I WANT to do it on my own-im doing it on my own the best way I know how.
I’m so tired of people treating me like a child, then getting shitty when I don’t act like an adult. Such hypocracy. And they wonder why I want to wander off and take care of my kids without anyone around…
Daily Journal, Dealing, Depression, emotional state, Emotions, Florida, Free Writing, Friends, Friendship, Grateful, Gratefulness, Healing, Heart Ache, Heart break, Honesty, Journal, Letting Go, Life, Living, Loss, Love, Random, Randomness, Reality, Relationships, Thankful, Truth, Understanding
These past couple almost three months since I have been Florida’s physical presence have been HARD. The distance apart has been a physical pain, a throbbing and constant ache that can’t be soothed. The only time it eased is when we talked, and that became less and less. I expected this. I expected him to pull away, to turn to those bad habits that he is used too. He’s a Young Gun, and we are 1,028 miles apart and our age difference REALLY bothered him-but not for himself, but for the approval of his family he has always so desperately sought.
Then there were the accusations that began to fly. The questioning demeanor he began to have for me, towards me. I had to ask myself MANY times, “Where’s the man who knows ME??” Why are these people who know NOTHING about me or the intensity and depth of our relationship planting such seeds of doubt and sorrow into his heart?? The only thing I came up with OVER and OVER with: Jealousy. These people are jealous of the ease at which we can be honest to each other. They are jealous of the reality of our love for each other. These people are JEALOUS of our fucking HAPPINESS. That’s when the remaining part of my heart broke-not for me or us, but for Nathaniel.
It broke for the man I know who always doubted himself and his worthiness to BE loved and DESERVING of that love from someone who didn’t need anything from him but his honesty, and his true self and heart. It fucking broke because he will always think he will never be worthy of good love, true love, REAL and HONEST love. He continues to accept the love he thinks he deserves, which is less than nothing. I know why he feels this way, and it will never be my place to say.
I finally realized why such a large part of my heart was torn from my body and left in such a beautiful place in Florida on January 18, at 3:30 pm: because he took the part of my heart that was damaged and darkened, diseased even: so that I could heal and become healthy and whole again, and Accept The Love I Know I Deserve.
And for that, I am forever thankful to him.
*Last meme created by your one and only Sassafrass
So my shoulder popped yesterday-and it hasn’t done that since I injured it 15 years ago at my first nursing job. GOD IT FELT GOOOOOOD. Now it constantly pops, and I can feel the tendons roll around-I’m used to that too. Waiting for corporate HR to call me so I can go see an orthopedist. I slept a solid 12 hours Sunday into Monday-woke up at 1030. It was MUCH needed. Slept 10 hours last night. Since my shoulder has popped the pain has SIGNIFICANTLY decreased, but I still can’t lift and grab/hold on to things. Which SUCKS. That’s how I make my living. So, now I have to get with the scheduler at work for light duty-at least they can accommodate me-and figure out how to get my 22 hours for this week and my 32 for next week. I’m hungry-and all I want are eggs. I could PROBABLY eat an entire dozen of eggs and be happy for the rest of the day. Oh, I started a pot roast for dinner today. It was a little difficult to try to turn the roast-I sear it on all sides before putting it in the crock pot. I bought some Turkish Bay Leaves at the store yesterday-a splurge and they smell SOOOOOOO goooooood-and some celery salt. MY dad has high blood pressure so we don’t use alot of salt in any of our food. I love Kosher salt. I only use half of what is recommended for recipes with the Kosher salt. I bought some Green tea with acai drangonfruit and had a nice cup this morning. It was good. I made mom a pot of coffee and swept the floor. The girls are going to her dad’s house for blueberry and chocolate chip pancakes. (And by her dad I mean my daughter’s friend’s dad.) I need to go pay bills and figure out how much $ I owe for Vivi at shop #1 before going to shop #2. And I’m going to take a shower ladies and gentlemen. And maybe a nap. I’m still coming down from the 80 mgs of Latuda. I’m on 40 now. It makes me a little hypomanic in the am-hence ALL the stuff I did, but now I want a nap. The 60 dose was good. The itching had lessened, no hypo and no sleepiness. Guess we will just keep playing with the dosage. Oh snap! I haven’t taken my morning meds. Maybe that’s why I’m sleepy. Damn this forgetful Swiss Cheese brain! I HAVE noticed that since I have come off the Abilify that my memory has gotten a bit more clear-I can remember names and faces better, places too. But my short-term is really shot. OH! I had a total geek-gasm at the store yesterday with a guy that works in the dairy section. I’m kicking myself in the ass for not giving him my #-but I was kind of afraid he may have a girlfriend. And I’m not one to encroach on other’s territory since it’s been done to me. I have some self-respect there. Ok. Shower Time!
No, I’m not talking about the sink holder in the bathroom. I’m talking about how we look-or perceive how we look. I used to think I was ugly. “Homely”. I was the fat girl with glasses that got picked on by everyone. Really, I was. I was in a juniors size 11 Palmetto jeans as a 5th grader. I hated that my hair was stick straight. I couldn’t get “mall hair” or those damn wings that all the girls did with their hair. I could NEVER get my jeans to stay french rolled, and I never liked to double color my socks-my shoes squeezed my feet when I wore 2 pairs of socks. I tried SO FUCKING HARD to fit in, when I should have been just me. In high school, I FINALLY blossomed into me. I LOVED my long straight hair-the 70’s came back then, and bitches had to straight iron and blow dry their hair to achieve what I got naturally. HA HA, fuck you assholes. I wore what I wanted-I didn’t give a SHIT what those fuckers thought was “cool” or “in”. I realized THEN that it takes TOO MUCH MONEY and TOO MUCH TIME to act like everyone else, and who the FUCK wants to do THAT?!
I don’t smoke, and I rarely drink-“and when I do, it’s the high dollar shit, and not in excess,” said in my Most Interesting Woman in the World voice. I like what I fucking like. I don’t spend HOURS getting my nails done EVERY FUCKING WEEK-waste of money, IMO, and it ruins my nails. I WILL splurge for a pedicure now and then. I slowly amass makeup-and it’s ONLY Urban Decay, and it’s taken me YEARS to get what I have, and I use it sparingly. I don’t want to hide behind a mask. Take me for who I am or fuck off.
But NOW…I’m noticing the LINES!! There’s these two deep ones between my eyebrows, from the constant worry and thinking and sadness since April of last year. God it’s almost been a year?! There are lines around my eyes-but I like those. My smile lines, my happy lines, my grateful to be alive lines. But I look so fucking tired. Too much thinking. I have terrible spider veins on my legs that look like bruises from the 15 years of hard CNA work that HUUUUUUURT when I walk. I had a dry spot on my thumb that turned out to be-GASP-warts! BARF! I had skin tags on my right under arm that I had removed. WHY after AAAAALLLL this time?! Because they bothered the fuck out of me. The gap in my smile where I had a tooth pulled 10 years ago bothers me. When I smile I see yellow teeth, but they really aren’t that yellow. Why does it bother my NOW?!
Because I don’t feel attractive. I feel like I’m getting ready to be put out to pasture and that my looks are what make me, well, ME. And that’s just stupid! I think it has to do with the years I spent with DB trying to reach an unattainable goal of the person he “wanted”-that bitch never existed-and the years of slow weight gain from meds. Since leaving DB, and my surgery and breakdown and rebuild, I’ve lost 50 pounds. FIFTY FUCKING POUNDS! I am now the smallest-and probably most healthy-I’ve ever been in my life. My sister gave me a fucking HUGE trash bag full of clothes SHE couldn’t fit in. I’m finally smaller than my sister, size wise. But I fucking walk like a bazillion steps a day. My ass looks fabulous. My belly is a little jiggly, but it’s ALOT smaller-my arms too. I’m on my way to wearing a size medium-shirts and non-existent panties. But WHY does it matter so fucking much?!
Because media and society-and my family, unintentionally, but still-have drilled into my head that my size matters on who will like and want me. WTF REALLY?! What the hell does my jean size have to do with the size of my caring heart? NOT A GOD DAMN MOTHER FUCKING THING. Now I have to teach my daughter that she isn’t fat. That her size isn’t what will make people like her. It’s her caring and helpful nature, her kind and giving heart. The same with my son. Both my kids are like me-very emotional, and loving and kind and helpful. Their feelings get hurt SO easily when someone says “I don’t like you because of X”. So I’m explaining to them, “People are assholes. But think of why they aren’t able to really tell you the reason they are upset. Maybe they can’t tell you, so it’s easier to say ‘I don’t like you’. Maybe they don’t have a mommy and/or daddy at home to help them grow. I love you very much, and I will help you grow.” Sometimes it’s over my daughter’s head-she’s only 8, after all, but my son is slowly starting to understand. And I tell them BOTH-what you look like isn’t as important as what’s INSIDE. If people can’t see you for that, then that’s THEIR loss. And that makes me think of all the people who treated me like shit, and maybe how miserable they are in life. And I really do say a little silent prayer that they can find some kind of peace in their life. Because I’ve found mine. And I’m happy-I don’t like the way it’s etched on my face, but there are my battle scars. The lessons I’ve learned and earned, and NO ONE can take that growth away from me.
I’m already having an emotional morning. I woke up at 7:49, and was upset that I didn’t sleep in longer. The kids are on their first day of spring break so I was HOPING to sleep until 9 or later…damn you mind for working on overtime! I had another water dream-big shock there-and this one was REALLY weird…it involved someone jumping off a bridge into a cold river, water slides and colored foam and colored water and the water was warm until the very end where I had to go through a “holding pen” that had a wheel that “scooped” ice out of the pen…it was fucked up. I was hit by the realization that I had a dream of flying into Tampa-when I was TWELVE! That’s 23 years ago, and so I started thinking of Florida and the other part of my dream that was like a maze and ComiCon and a bad weekend at college…and I cried. BBF finally text me back after I sent this HUGE long text message about the connection Florida and I share, and all I got was Sorry, I meant to respond, drove all day, My heart breaks for you chicky. That made me feel like shit on TOP of the already shitty wake up feeling I have. I replied with a “S’ok about yesterday”. It’s not ok. It’s not fucking ok because I need my best friend to talk too and she’s wrapped up in her new bf that moved up to Alaska and I feel like I’ve been shoved aside and I never did that with her when I was with Florida and I’m just so fucking tired of being hurt by people who SAY they care about me and love me. I started a pot of coffee, started soaking the dishes-the dishwasher is busted so it’s been hand-washing dishes for over a year and I don’t mind-and I took my meds and I’m listening to Seether on Spotify. And crying. And drinking coffee and tea. And working myself up for my 16s this weekend…why is it a bad thing to wanna curl up and cry?
I’m at the point in my life that if people are going to ignore me then why the fuck am I here in Indiana?! I don’t want to be here anymore. I’m not fucking happy here anymore. Nothing is keeping me here. All emotional connections I had here are gone-and they fucking disappeared the weekend I went to Florida. I feel this constant pull-not a light tug, it’s a pull like I’m hooked up to a suped-up diesel truck trying to drag me to hell pull-to get to Florida, and I don’t know if it’s because of Florida himself, or if it’s time that I started a new book in my life. Could be both, could be neither. Could be the BP acting up. Who knows?! But Jane agrees that starting over isn’t a bad thing for me and the kids. Just so fucking tired of being treated like a fucking child, being over-ridden as a parent. My parents HAD their time to raise my sister and I. They weren’t around because they had to work in order for us to survive. I’m not upset about that. But they aren’t going to raise my kids. I ride my kids’ asses because they weren’t there to raise me. My sis and I raised ourselves. I don’t want my kids to end up like me-35, no real education and living at home, again, depending on parents to survive. I’m trying my best to give my kids the skills they need to live and survive in the world. Fuck I’m a god damn mess-sorry if I offend you today. I’m probably gonna spam your feeds with posts, that’s how upset I am, guys. Lemme just cry for a bit. I won’t be ok today, but maybe tomorrow I will. I hope.