Red pandas are like drunk raccoons

It always amazes me how important having the last word is to some people. So important, that I got a letter in the mail with no return address, all sneaky-like. I spun through a range of emotions, starting with rage, followed by a hole of depression, then anger, amusement, and finally indifference. Apathy? Maybe apathy is a better word. In my depression stage, I made friends with a bottle of tequila. Probably not the best choice I’ve made lately. The hangover stuck around for two days. That just wasn’t pleasant. But in my apathetic stage, I binned the letter. That’s something I’ve never been able to do before. I’d have saved it. If have reread it and wallowed. So either I’m becoming a bigger asshole, or I’m growing as a person.  We’ll go with asshole.
Shortly after this, I realized I’m having a manic episode. Which, fun. But, destructive. Now normally, when I go manic, I get angry at everything and everyone. I’m extra hateful and bitter. You may recognize that as “Stark Raving Bitch Sio.” This time, I was more stereotypical manic. Hyper, bubbly, energetic, happy, horny, full of poor decisions, low inhibitions, and bad ideas.  I’ve come to realize the best description for manic episodes. It’s like being shit faced, just sober. (Except, drinking and partying tends to be one of my bad decisions, so I guess, not sober. Ha!). It’s been incredibly difficult the past weeks to suppress these symptoms. But here I am, in one piece, sober, alive, and not in jail. I didn’t do anything too stupid, so that’s a win.
That said, my therapist is going to have a field day with analyzing this. “What emotions were you feeling?” I don’t even know. There was a lot of faux happiness in there. I know it was fake, because you can just feel the difference. It’s like… The difference between margarine and butter. Similar flavor, but the texture isn’t quite the same. Don’t get me wrong, things have been going a lot better for me overall, so I have been having some happy moments. It’s pretty fucking great.
Like all bouts of manic insanity, plus the fact that I’d been drinking, I totally skipped a bunch of days of my meds. (Don’t worry, Fuckheads, I’m STILL not jumping off any bridges.) Oops.
I’m not looking forward to the come down. I really wish I could fly high as a kite forever. I wish I was that happy bubbly girl that everyone liked. But at the same time, I’m also satisfied with being the tough ass who can kick your butt in video games, and has a snarky response to everything. Having walls is safer. I tend to prefer safety over spontaneity. Normally anyway. Do I get offended easily? Sometimes, but it generally tends to mean that I thought better of that person, and had lowered the wall a bit. Bully me.
Also, damn, my allergies are killing me.


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