Monday, July 30, 2007

enough already

ok, think I've run out of energy - whether it was meds-induced or not. Still haven't worked that out. Maybe it was just making up for 4 months of solid sleep on the Nardil-and-others. Whatever it was though, it's gone.

I'm tired, I'm grumpy, I feel like I'm working my ass off doing other people's work, and all I get is crapped on about something else that I haven't gotten to yet. And my rescue dog has a long-term bone problem. And I didn't go to the bank today so I don't know if I got paid or not for last month, but I suspect from the mail I got from my "contract manager" that the answer is no. She conveniently went out straight after that, and didn't return calls. I don't even know if my boss got round to signing off on my timesheet, and guess what...he didn't return calls either.

Don't even think of telling me I should have gone and checked. I know I should have.
I saw t-doc, then I came home to take dog to the vet. Then I worked because I was worrying about dog. Then I stopped work because I am so pissed off with new development team manager and the snotty email he sent me. And then I had 3 glasses of wine with too much mince on toast for supper, so I feel really crap - drinking and this meds-combo doesn't mix at all, especially with rich food. And achieved nothing all evening except working myself into a total twist.

I hate this. I hate being bipolar. I hate being depressed. I hate being a total loser. Almost as much as I hate being a fat, ugly, boring, miserable total loser. Sometimes I want to stand up and scream - I got given so, so much in the way of advantages, way more than I could ever deserve. But to finish them off I got the mentally interesting bit that has compelled me to waste every single one of them.

In a reincarnation kind of way, I wonder whether the gifts that I am holding would go to other people if I die. I'd kill myself now if that were so. Except I guess that would mean some poor newborn loser would get the bipolar cherry along with their slice of life. Typical me - whichever way it goes it's a stuffup. And it's all my own fault too....

No comments: