What A Sorry-Assed Week...

My poor old ass is indeed in deep shit. Seems the VA wants to fuck with my meds again, and now I am totally fucked. Up and down, and up and down, ad nauseum. Jesus H. Christ, when will these asshats stop fucking with me? The ass wipe that claims to be my shrink and wants total control of my fuckin miserable life is giving me shit fits with his "I know what's best for you" shit, and the fucker don't even live inside my head! Can you tell I am pissed?

Last night I got zero sleep, which is the one thing that keeps me stable. Fine. I go to the VA clinic today to pick up a much needed script. Gee, old man, we forgot to tell ya! The doctor has the fucking day off! Sorry about your luck! Didn't he tell ya when you talked to him on Friday? (Fuck, no!) So, here I am, damn near comatose, being asked to drive 75 miles to pick up a fucking script that I finally managed to weasel out of them. And I can barely walk to the pickup. I went home, and Rosie told me she would take me to BC, but hey! Can't be until Wednesday!

So, I sit here at midnight with a little glass of Captain's and contemplate my navel. Serves me right to suffer...

Fuck it, don't mean nothin'...

Charlie~

Thoughts Of The Day

Here it is the first of February already, and I have gotten some things done, some not. I am always hard on myself, setting strict guidelines for what I need to do and agonizing over the things I don't get done. Lately it has been more of the latter. With the shakeup at IB, I find I have lost a great deal of interest in my writing, and I blame that on a serious case f depression. I am hitting the sauce more than I should, and just have a general "fuck it" attitude, which I find myself getting into time and again.

It all comes down to order in my life. I am the guy that put the fun back in dysfunctional, I think. The difference between me and so many like me is that I accept that, know it is true, and do something about it. So many of my friends and loved ones are in denial, it seems. They are as fucked up as I am, but fail to recognize it, or do something about it. and that causes a shitload of trouble in relationships. I know that without my daily dose of "happy pills" that I would be a complete shit, unbearable to live with and even a problem to myself. So I take them regularly, along with other potions and pills, and get by. Not the best of lives by any means, but it gets me by, and in the final analysis, that is what is important.

My DIL suffers from the same issues I do, and at 26 years of age, tries to blow it off. She can be a regular little bitch when she is not medicating, but the most perfect angel when she is. I gave her a real talking to when I last visited in July 07, and she is doing well now. I told her that if she wanted to lose her friends, break up her marriage, and be on her own in a few years, to ignore the fact that she is borderline like I am. Go ahead, Sara, stick your head in your ass and show us how foolish it is to deny that anything is wrong!

Even my Rosie has her issues. She is under a great deal of stress with Bella Grande, and as a perfectionist, she suffers. Doc put her on Effexor, and she did okay. Then it came around where she "couldn't afford it." I knew way before this that she wasn't taking her meds, and she was almost unbearable.

What do we do? Do we just go through life being a complete asshat, or do we try to do something about it? Do we do as I did for so many years - and still do somewhat - and self medicate to ease the problems? Fuck that. A simple though most of the times expensive fix can always get you on the right road. Being a child of the 60's, I know that there is better living through chemistry. And that is all there is...

Fuck it, don't mean nothin'...

Charlie~