Ready. Set. Sail!
Fuck this Goddamn “holiday.” I’m pissed off and upset and triggered and whatever the fuck you want to call it. I hate my stupid parents. Why in God’s name do they still bother me?!? I’ve had it up to HERE with their nonsense and bullshit. I’m on a damn rampage and people better get out of my way.
Bipolar has me in a chokehold right now and I’m trying very hard to catch my breath. I feel defeated and I don’t know how to get out of it’s tight grip. Somebody please take a steel crowbar and bash the fucker’s skull in and save me from this wretched existence!
My dad just now decided to send me an email today saying that he asked my mom to remarry him and they have set a date for July 11. For a split second my heart jumped out of my chest. I felt so happy and relieved because they had such a nasty divorce and really tore each other apart at the seams. And now I thought that the nightmares I keep having of them dragging me and my little brother through the dirt and claiming sides would finally be over. And the memories I keep having of the childhood I never got, because ALL they fucking did my entire life was fight and fight and take out their anger on me by verbally abusing me and calling me names. The day my dad looked me in the eyes and said he wish he never had a daughter. My mom and her distance. Maybe for one second that was going to be repaired and this family could start anew. Spending time together. Going on trips we had always planned to do but never had the money. Maybe then I’d stop dreaming of us all being together as a family and waking up sobbing because that event never happened….
…no. All I got was an April’s Fools and a Spongebob Squarepants joke…because my feelings on this don’t matter.
I’m sick and tired and exhausted and over life. I’m done. Life is overrated. And no I’m not suicidal. I just wish I could just mentally check myself out of the Life’s a Bitch Hotel and not have to come back. I don’t tip the damn bell boy because he is a prick out to get me. The staff is a bunch of assholes. And the manager is a rude fucker with his dick in his hands all the time.
Yeah I’m being crude but am I allowed to be? Yes. This is the last damn straw and I’m just over this week. I’m over this month. I’m over this year. I’m over my life.
I’m done. Fuck every Goddamn bastard and all their fancy-ass horses they rode in on. I’ll show them when I take my fucking chainsaw to their horses and carve them to pieces right in front of their eyes.
Who’s laughing now, dickhead?
All that aside, I’m allowed to feel how I feel about this. Overreaction or not bipolar had made me a sensitive bitch and I’m on my period and I want to murder a room full of white fluffy bunnies. Rev up the chainsaw and go to town.
Happy Easter Motherfuckers!
The Bipolar Compass 
O shit. I’m all about a good April fools joke but that isn’t funny, that is fucked up. Sorry to hear. You have every right to rampage. I’m wondering how to prank my family but my idea of a joke is to empty the dishwasher and then tell one of my kids to empty it. Or take out the trash and tell them to take it out.
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Those are probably better ideas than his. Anything is really.
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You are always entitled to your feelings, whether they are sunshine spewing, “crude” or whatnot.
I still say we should throw bipolar a parade, rain on it, and blow up its floats.
As for family…Been there, done that, with the screaming hating parents. My dad’s nickname for me as a kid was “lazybutt” and :”barge feet.” Mom harped on “ungrateful hellion.” I’d like to say it got better but the only thing that improved was them divorcing and now me feeling hated because all mom sees is how much I look like my asshole father. All he sees is any trait I inherited from her, good or bad.
You are not alone, fellow warrior. Not with bipolar or the family angle. ❤
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God Morgue. Your comment made me feel the slightest bit better. For real. And that’s huge because I’m raging right now. Thanks.
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Glad to hear it. Sometimes I feel like all I bring to the table is sarcasm but I mean well.
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I know you do. I get you if no one else does.
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You are both beautiful people in spite of parental contributions. Perhaps the combination somehow picked the best of them. Or perhaps you’ve overcome and come out fantastic. Probably a bit of both. ❤
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Awwww…..now that’s a compliment! Thanks for the smile 🙂
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Father called me Thunder Thighs. I ran 9 miles a day and was not fat. Parents are just awful sometimes.
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Yes they are
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Ha. Easter dinner, my dad made a comment about my “huge ass”. I told him he better get started kissing it before he had to work in the morning.
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That’s lovely. Parents are so lovely and warm and comforting…and douchebags.
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Hey that was some rant and do you know what I bet you feel the better for that rant.
It’s been proven ranting is good for you.
That said you have a lot going on so who blames you, I would take deep breaths and curse under under you breath. I don’t have specific advice,
However I support you. Aidan.!
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Aidan I love you! Thank you so much for the support. You have no idea how great it feels to have someone understand and stick by my side. Take care!
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I’m here for you anytime.
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Oh dear, the vision of those poor white bunnies…one of the nice things about having a blog is that you can be crude, rude and say whatever the fuck you want. Vent on!
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Will do!
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Halfway through the paragraph that started with your Father’s “engagement” my brain kicked in and I realized what he had done to you. And I’m just so sorry. This is your bit of the internet to say whatever you want.
Love ya Jess
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Maybe next Easter we can all hang out at the secret bunker. It’s a party and a half, Jess, Katy, Mrs. M., my kids, all your kids, it’ll be fucking awesome. What the hell, everyone come on over, bring a friend. I’m gonna need more ham and chocolate and stuff! Who’s bringing the wine?
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I’m totally bringing the wine. I don’t have kids myself but I bet if I hang around the public playground long enough then I’ll find some nice tasty ones. Let’s do this Deon!!!
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I’m sorry I’m late to the discussion!
Oh honey….I read every comment, and I felt better after reading them because I want you to have all the support you need and deserve and these are people who believe in you and care about you like I do.
A blog is your place to say whatever the fuck you want! Never, ever hold back.
I agree that ranting is healthy!!!!!!!!
That was s sick, cruel joke your father pulled, and I’m sending you a huge hug this very minute.
love you Jess,
XOXOXO
Dy
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fuck yeah. all these people are awesome.
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Ugh! That’s horrible! Why could’t they do something more humorous, like saran wrap your toilet seat?!
😉
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That would’ve been preferable…
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Pleaseeeeeeeeeeeeee, spare the poor little bunnies.
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Ahahaha. Maybe. If they are good!
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I’ve got petrol for your chainsaw if you need it…
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Oh I’ll need it!
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Reading your writing made me wince. I write from my deepest heart,as you do. Much of my writing concerns my family. And if I’m writing about it, it’s usually not favorable but the things that wounded me deeply. I’ve been thinking about how much my sisters could be hurt and I don’t want that. And I’ve been thinking the world doesn’t revolve around the great. I am. Your words drip with rage. Time to get a punching bag girl!
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Thanks for reading. Talking about my problems with my family makes it easier for me to deal with them. I’m OK now but the joke really did hit a sore spot. Maybe I do need a punching bag!
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