I won’t be reviving this blog again. Thank you for your continued support, and for your lovely comments and conversations. You are all kind and caring people… I wish that I had more for you to read. I’m too tired to do much of anything now. I have this fantasy of falling asleep and waking up in another World, but not even a dream could carry me there.
Carrie M. Gallaher
In transforming my private blog entries into public entries, I’ve undoubtedly uncovered some broken odds and ends. These were never intended to meet the light of day, so please keep that in mind if you happen to stumble upon them. Excuse the messiness, for I need to vent.
The impulsive way in which I shut this website into ‘private’ and then pull it back into the public eye, just magnifies the idea that I’m not entirely sure who I want to be with this diagnosis (manic depression, if you’re new here). It really takes a lot of thought and effort to reestablish oneself after receiving any diagnosis that excludes him from being within the group of the normal public… where he belonged for so many years, whether he wanted to or not.
If bipolar was a person, she’d be here writing depressing rubbish and referencing Icarus. If Carrie was a person, this blog would be full of dry wit and dark humor.
If bipolar was a person, she’d take pictures of an organized bedroom, brimming with decorations and stockings… sporadically hung about the ceiling. Carrie would be sitting on the living room couch, pounding screwdrivers and painting odd pictures with complete disregard for the carpet and furniture.
It’s wrong. I’m torn between two planes, and then there’s me, just stuck in the middle… with pens for paddles, on a paper boat that’s tearing into pieces as the waves lap at its edges. I can’t finish my drinks. Carrie can’t finish her drinks, and if she wants to paint she’ll need to paddle this paper boat to some uncharted island just to prop up a canvas. The floor will probably sink on her way to this ‘goal,’ so she’ll probably give up before attempting to paddle, so that said sinking can be avoided for a few more hours.
None of this makes sense. I’m a lunatic, and this blog is a stage for me to babble upon. I am crazy. I’m missing marbles.
Looking for a middle ground between sanity and insanity is endless drudgery. Nothing is rational to me.
…I just want a bit of black and white to choose from. To me, this World is gray and bottomless.
Two nights ago, I realized that I am emotionally retarded. All of this was written in a vigorous whirl of things (yes, ‘things’), triggered by my attempt to mentally prepare myself for explaining my concerns to my mom. There has always been an otherworldly tension in my family, much of which comes from my reactions to my obsessively controlling mother. Honestly, there aren’t enough drugs in the world to keep me sane in that environment… but I’ve been unemployed since my hospital visit, so I haven’t any choice in the matter:
I’ll let the title speak for itself.
The website that I referred to below (ewcake.wordpress.com) got forty-nine hits yesterday, which has really confused me. It only has eight followers, my new post wasn’t tagged, and no other search engines were linked to the views. Did someone visit it because of this website?
Please tell me. It’s going to dr
This is only a small blog entry (but it’s something).
Every cat owner knows that when a cat stumbles upon a foul smell, he makes a face. This face is ‘the cat face:’