teekeats-blog

[teekeats-blog]

How many people does it take to unscrew a water bottle

I think its important to try and find a silver lining, no matter how fucking minuscule that may be, just find one. I learnt this at the start of this year on probably the worst day of my wee life. 

Most people tell me how selfish suidcde is, that your not just ending your life, but the ones around you too, which I'm sure i would agree with if the tables were turned, i would probably be fucking furious and want to kill them myself for putting me through this pain (also selfish) but in those moment of utter despair there is nothing else on your mind then walking in front of that oncoming fucking train. 

Im going to skip through most of this story, I don't think much of the in between would count as my silver lining. So here I am, sitting on a metal slab in the PSO office at Heidelberg train station and its fucking boiling. Apart from the heat its actually pretty nice in the office, they have everything you would find in a little home, they even had a bougee soda stream. I'm surrounded by two PSO’s, four police officers (one of which I'm pretty sure i fucking went to school with!!!) , two paramedics and a  police physiatrist.  At this point i am fucking inconsolable, Ive cried so much I'm sweating bullets, I'm covered in snot, Ive most likely smeared it all over my face and my water bottle is empty. This is where my silver lining begins. 

The lovely PSO who I'm going to say saved my life and is the reason i am still here goes to refill my water, but he cant get the lid off, he's giving it a pretty fucking good crack but there is no budging, he passes it onto the next PSO, no luck, cop #1 then offers to have a go, again nope, cop #2 also has no fucking luck,  its like this pump pop top is fucking super glued on, the paramedics have stepped back and want no part in trying to open my pump berry water bottle, cop #3 (the one I'm pretty sure i went to school with) steps up and after a few vain straining tries, she gets the fucking thing open, its done, I'm getting water and I'm fucking ecstatic, I didn't even realise i had stopped crying and now I'm laughing, like hysterical my tummy hurts laughter. It took two PSO’s and three police officers to open my fucking water bottle. If I'm completely honest  this high didn't  last that long and I probably went back to smearing snot all over my face again soon after, but  it was exactly what i needed, i needed something to laugh at, i needed a belly hurting laugh more then i ever had. Obviously this didn't turn my day around and i happily walked home, but it sure showed me no matter how fucking grim things look, there's always beauty (of some sort) around. Thank you for saving my life, and not being able to open my water bottle. 

[teekeats-blog]

You have Bipolar

The day my physiatrist told me this everything seemed to make sense, and at the same time none at all. I was so angry and sad and happy all at once, happy to finally have a definitive name for what the fuck is wrong with me, angry that I have an incurable diagnosis and sad that for the past few years  I have treated my nearest and dearest like utter shit because some chemical imbalance in my head has allowed me to think its normal to tell your mum you hate her because there's no fucking skim milk in the fridge for my shitty nes cafe. 

My names Taylor, I'm 23, and I have fucking bipolar. 

For years I've been passed on from doctor to doctor, councillor to physiologist, physiologist  to phyicatrist. Ive been told I'm over reacting, I'm spoilt, I'm depressed, I have anger issues, at one point I was autistic which i like call artistic, ADHD, ive also had arthritis if you count the arthritic meds I was once prescribed (???) you name it, I've apparently had it. Ive enjoyed stints in hospitals where you eat with a plastic fucking spork(!!!!!)  so you cant stab yourself and have to shit with no door because you cant be trusted when you cant be seen.

 2018 was the year I found out I had bipolar, it seemed every year my mental health would get worse and worse, I would occasionally go through some manic high and snort shit coke out of the grilled bathrooms then strut on out to chapel street, but it would all too soon come crashing down and i am sprawled out on the floor, a table turned upside down, a fucking pot plant shattered against the wall and at some point the police at the door with pepper spray in hand. I haven't had either of those me’s come out recently but its very far from happy days for me yet. 2018 has been the best and worst year of my life. Ive lost and ive loved, both too much and too little, I think that's just how bipolar works, too much and too little all at once. 

My life right now is pretty unstable, some days I refuse to get out of bed, some days I eat everything, some I don't eat at all, some days I feel like some fucking exotic goddess and some days I just simply want to die.

 I cant exactly remember the last time I had stability, everyone and everything around me may be still but I'm fucking spinning, but as always the world keeps going and you just have to push the fuck on. 

I think that's enough for now, talking so much to myself is bloody exhausting, goodnight world.