First Off

My cat is not bipolar (BP). Understand 70's lingo? Then you'll get it.

Okay, onward.  I needed someplace to to blog safely and to exhibit my writing so I could actually earn a writing gig.  I have blogged about various things in the past, but I'd prefer those not be broadcast all over creation thus embarrassing myself, my family, my unit or the US Army.

Okay, I'm NOT in the Army anymore, but if you have been in the service, well, yeah, there it is.

So, today: fighting with myself to get the day started and please note: it is 1330 hours.  This is the fun (not) of bipolar depression (BP 2) - starting a day is always a monumental battle. No matter if you set an alarm or have cats pouncing on your head it takes time to get things going. If my parents knew how I lived, I'm sure I'd be subject to all inds of yelling and screaming. Thankfully, only my counselor hears about the hours I keep.  We're working on creating normalcy out of total chaos.

I love my life. NOT. I struggle with a normal (what's normal) range of BP dysfunction. Regardless of being on medication I occasionally contemplate suicide (contemplate, not plan), break into tears for seemingly no reason, and struggle with a very low level of energy. ARRRRRRRGGGG Right now I need to weed the gardn, clean the house, clean out the basement.... The list goes on and on and....