Truth and Consequences in Writing As Me

I didn’t want to do this but I’m left with no choice at this point. My name is Dana Cook. I am a 42 year old Sober Bipolar woman from the East Coast New England area. My E-mail will say I’m Mary Smith because I didn’t set it up a friend did when E-mail first started many years ago. He suggested I not use my real name to be on the safe side and I just left it. I do have a twin sister 5 minutes younger than myself. I do have a half brother 7 years older than myself. My father is on dialysis because he contracted a rare virus probably from his birds, that went undiagnosed until it was too late. My mother passed away about 7 years ago from congestive heart failure, after surviving lung cancer and cervical cancer. Her name was Anna Jane Cook she was the best. She lived 7 more years with only one lung, and that one lung had emphysema but she fought and stayed as long as she could for me.

I am labeled “crazy”, “warning”, “discard”, and other things when my posts show up. I know this and it’s ok. I expect this to happen. DO NOT portray yourself as a great defender of the bullied, mentally ill, drunks and junkies in need, and then step on them when they are trying to do something therapeutic. If I’ve offended someone personally ok. As far as I know it has been nothing but praise. Now, my movie & tv blog is different. You are supposed to critique a performance or script and even then I do it in a respectful way because I love movies. They are my escape from this. The judging, labeling and shunning. Is this the real world or am I still in high school? Life is hard enough without this shit. There are some Bipolar people that score extremely high on an IQ test. It may take me 2 hours to write this but I’m one of those people. Or I used to be. I know who looks at my posts and who has other people look at my posts. It’s sad. I’m tired of being sad and looking for acceptance. So today I stop looking. If you read it fine you don’t also fine. It’s for me and anyone else that feels like me.

Like today is ok. Not great but ok. The neighbors complained about my dad’s birds so he’s mad. This makes my life difficult. He will break his back trying to fix it at 72 on dialysis and in 83 degree weather. Because he loves animals like I do. Me I want to cuss out the neighbors but can’t. I’ll just stutter and spit a little on them. But even that would be better than nothing. My dad is afraid because the neighbor has money. I said he also has a Napoleon Complex, and a need to sit on gigantic motorized objects for hours on end keeping me awake because his marriage is failing. My dad just looked at me with his mouth hanging open. When he recovered he said ” You are NOT TO GO OVER THERE”. I said I wouldn’t. I had my fingers crossed behind my back.

About darie73

I have lived with Bipolar Disorder since my early teens. I have lived with Social Anxiety Disorder for even longer. I self-medicated with alcohol for over 20 years, that's how long it took to get a diagnosis. I'm open and honest about my mental health so hopefully one day the system will change. View all posts by darie73

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