Frustrated Self-Loathing and General Hate

Frustrated Self Loathing and Hate

                So, today I go to the ophthalmologist and get told that there is nothing that they can do about my left eye. It’s basically: You have some optical nerve damage and that re-focusing that you’re experiencing is a symptom of the healing that is taking place. It should clear up in a couple of months.

                Motherfuckers! It’s affecting my ability to do *anything* right the fuck now!

                Nothing they can do.

                So, this afternoon, I just had a lovely dive into a situational black depression while I am in the middle of a somewhat manic episode chemically. This lovely combination leaves me somewhat agitated and filled with rage and anger, which, due to my eyes being so fucked up, I can’t even process in my usual ways: jewelry, general crafting, (or because of other recent health issues) self flagellation (by myself or using someone as my sadist). Instead, I turn to my other outlet: Food.

                This afternoon, I made the conscious decision to gorge on salad. I even allowed myself a little bit of ice cream. That sated the general hate (turned on myself for some reason) that was running through my system enough for me to sleep off the dilation eyedrops and headache that I get from them. When I woke up, though, I wanted nothing other than pizza. So, I said fuck it, and asked the husband to grab me pizza on the way home.

                I could have gone for some gourmet type pizza, and made this cheat day on my diet worthwhile, right? Of course I could have. Did I? No. What I wanted and craved was cheap, greasy, fatty fucking Little Caesar’s $5 carryout cheese pizza and crazy bread.

                Fuck gourmet!

                So, he brought that home for me, and I ate almost the entire thing (not the crusts, because, you know, I have class n shit, right?). He had a couple of pieces of crazy bread, and I ate all the rest in a fit of self-loathing and general hate for the world in general.

                What’s funny is I now feel myself rebounding back from that black pit. The act of self-destruction that I just perpetrated worked exactly the way it was supposed to. But, what the fuck am I going to do the next time? Or the time after that. I have to get myself under some motherfucking control again. Hopefully, the next time I have one of these fucking swings, I will be able to channel it in more constructive ways, like my jewelry, or even crocheting.

                At least I didn’t start smoking again.

                Goddamn! I want a fucking cigarette.