So, you’ve heard by now, the death of Robin Williams, and the awful circumstances of it. Suicide. Suicide. I’ve talked a lot of my own struggles with mental illness and what I’m going through. As you know, (reminding) I have Bipolar Disorder Type 2 and PTSD, and so that becomes a very interesting combination of things. A very interesting combination that scorns and hurts me at times, but also the fact that it proves to be my greatest strength. How is that? It just makes me stronger, and makes me aware of the suffering of others.
So, my birthday party was partly a disaster and then not, how so? My family in question, and their strange addiction to alcohol and the fact that they nearly tore up my husband’s and I’s new place. Soda on the walls, the floors, food on the carpet, and lastly a dent in the wall. It was so frustrating to see this and being breathless at the same time. I had to go around, give tours of the new place to those that never saw it and finally helping out friends and family. It was exhausting/exasperating to say the least. I really don’t understand my family, and they are better off not coming next time, just because of their attitude, and the fact of what they did. The fact that they disrespected my place of dwelling has me on edge, and the fact that they need alcohol to have a good time. I’m tired of giving it to them. I don’t have money all the time.