Emotional stockmarket crash, here I come.

I've got a killer migraine today. And I'm sliding down a slope into a depression. I hate the feeling of it coming on - just helplessness, the more I fight to escape it, the harder its clutches grasp onto me, pulling me in faster and harder.

Over breakfast, fuckdoll said that we can't have me going into a depression at the moment. We've got too many things to sort out for the new apartment. I know hat she wasn't being insensitive with her comment though - she was just stating a fact. Its hard to deal with me in a depression when we have other matters to attend to.

The problem with my depressions is that, when they start to come on, the world seems to conspire against me in an effort to drive me over the edge. This time is no exception.

I recently moved teams (long story, my old manager was a cunt), and found that with my move, I had a lot less stress and managed to really ramp up my productivity. I was taking 3 to 4 times the number of calls I took in the old team. You would think that me being back to how I was a couple of years ago would be welcomed, but you'd be wrong with that assumption.

I've been asked to fill out online forms for everything I do. If I transfer a call, I have to ask the address where the person is calling from. If they are on a mobile phone, I have to run a scan on the network and find their location and then record that. All this for a customer that came through to the wrong department.

They also want me to validate any call that I don't transfer because they are suggesting that I'm not doing my job properly. They, of course, don't have any evidence of this happening (because its not), but its the basic corporate rule of "guilty until proven guilty". And no, that's not a typo. They basically assume your guilt, and then allocate resources to attempting to back up their assumptions.

They constantly tell the employees that they want us to give a human element to our calls, but if our statistics are out of the set-in-stone guidelines, they come down on you like a ton of bricks. What they actually want is a human touch with robotic precision. As stupid as that sounds.

Mood at the moment: -2, really on a downward slope. Just don't tell anyone.


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I wanna be one of the four out of five.

The migraine from yesterday has passed and I'm at work as usual today. The sun is bright and warm, and I've had a great morning exercise walk past the beach this morning with fuckdoll. I dropped her off at work and rode on to the office.

Riding my motorbike always allows my brain a chance to clear itself of any cloudy areas and gives me a chance to reflect on the things that happen in my life. One thing that happened recently is that we watched a documentary by Stephen Fry (British actor, google him if you aren't sure) who, like myself, suffers from bipolar. He spoke openly about the disability and introduced other famous people to also deal with BP on a daily basis. Carrie Fisher was one, and Richard Dryfuss was another). To see these well-known faces talking about the same struggles I face all the time made me open up inside.

I didn't tell fuckdoll what I was thinking, not because I was hiding it, simply because I wasn't sure where I stood on my thoughts. I felt like I needed to cry to release the tension, but thats something I find hard to do on most occasions. It wasn't a sad feeling though, it was because of the relief I felt wash over me.

I've always had this nagging feeling that I don't have BP. That I am just a complete fuck-up instead. That I feel depressed at times because that's just life. You see, I've never actually been able to talk with another BP sufferer face-to-face. I've never been able to rid myself of the concerns I have about me.

Sure, if you ask 10 people if they have BP, easily half will say they do (no research to back this claim up, but please ask people and email me to see what you found!). The reason I think that people say they have it (but have never been medicated) is because they are "stress puppies" and/or drama queens. They love the attention and to say you have such varied mood swings sounds, well, to some idiots - it sounds kinda cool.

The thing is, its not cool at all. 20% of real bipolar sufferers will commit suicide. That's one in five. So if I meet four other BP people, chances are, one of us is going building jumping, or going for "the swim that needs no towel".

What a fucking disturbing thought.

Another 20% will need to be hospitalised for a duration at some point in their lives due to either a depressive state (that was almost me when I had my breakdown and was diagnosed). 40% will never function to their full potential and will remain in a boring job all their lives (hello, call centre worker right here for 6yrs).

And its those stats from the program that got me thinking. Is my BP that is the thing that's kept me in my crappy job for so many years without progressing upwards while those idiots around me go further? Maybe.

If this was a Hollywood movie, I'd now say how I'm not "gonna let it beat me" and start running up the city hall steps throwing punches at thin air. But its not. This is the cold light of day reality we are dealing with here. And Bipolar is something you survive with, not something you live with.

I'm just gratefull that I have readers for this blog - it makes me feel like others that don't even know me care, even just a little bit.

Also, no matter what I post about. I'm going to start putting a mood scale at the bottom of each post so I can track myself. Hope you don't mind.

0 (zero) is "normal"
+3 is full mania (I wanna be a superhero vigilante and ride around on a chopper - and, yes, that is actually something I've said before)
-3 is full depressive state (meaning I'm thinking about death a little too much)

Mood at the moment: a little depressed -1

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Migraine.

I lie on the sofa as I write this post. The lights dimmed and my sub making dinner for us both. It sounds romantic, but the trth is that I have a crushing headache. A migraine from bipolar hell.

I didn't get these headaches when I was on my medication, and had honestly forgotten how much they impact me when they decide to strike. Wincing at the smallest of noises, feeling constantly sick amongst other horrid effects.

But, as I said to fuckdoll a few moments ago, this is part of me. Its part of bipolar for a small amount of sufferers too.

This is more of a record for me, so I can keep track of my progress in stopping my meds..

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Awesome News!!

WE GOT AN APARTMENT OF OUR OWN!!

WOOHOOOO!!!

LET THE SORDID BEHAVIOUR BEGIN!!!!

:D

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Humans are disposable.. Just don't get a hard-on from hitting one of them..

Its now 05.49am and I can't sleep. I feel tired but coming off the night shift at work throws your bodyclock into a complete quandry. I feel tired, but I think my body feels like it should be guiding some drunk idiot through configuring his wireless modem while he shouts deaths threats at me. Therefore, I'm in a tired but sleepless state.

So, I've decided to write up something I thought about while lying here about the movie myself and fuckdoll saw yesterday: "Surrogates", starring the hard to be killed, Bruce Willis.

Great movie, first off. The storyline (which I can cover without ruining the plot to the whole thing) is that something like 98% of the world's population stays physically at home and sits in a chair with sensors and such. This allows them to send out a robot version of themselves into the real world. This is marketed in the movie as a way to stay 100% safe as, even if you are ass-raped by a rabid gorilla, you remain safe at home.

All this causes an interesting side effect - no one gives a shit about another person's safety. The "people" you see out and about are disposable. And this is what I want to talk about with the real world as we know it today, along with the bizarre contradictions people still hold dear.

There's a scene in the movie (without giving anything away) where there's a massive room with the sensor chair things, and soldiers are in each one. Then it cuts to the actual war where blank faced soldiers are fighting, one gets killed and the real soldier back at the base just logs into another robot and carries on fighting. It was this that made me compare it to the current world as we know it. For example, I find it hard to identify with people I don't know - most likely from my childhood where I was kept away from social situations (no Freudian assessments, please!).

But a lot of the world are like this as well. I mean, you can run a few google searches and find internet videos of people being killed by all manner of means. There's porn where girls take on 50 or 60 guys one after the other. Videos of soldiers taking out insurgents with an arsenal of weaponry. Its reduced the population's sensitivity to harm to others in much the same way the movie depicted. We don't care about others, as a general rule.

But, and here's the contradiction, if myself and fuckdoll where to "come out" and say we both enjoy it when I slap her hard across the face, or use a choke hold to make her pass out, or poking her clit with needles, society would be in shock.

How is it that we can all be more focussed in catching a view of the carnage and gore as we pass a car crash, but two consenting adults that enjoy SM makes us recoil in horror? Bizarre, isn't it?

Myself and fuckdoll have been together (in a form) for over a year now, and we have been through more than a regular couple might face in five times that amount of time. I truly know that she trusts me with her life - she hands that control to me regularly - and I would never do anything to put her in danger. I know 110% that I would trust he with my life for the same reason.

But, if I tried to explain to our "vanilla" friends the things we do, most of them would see me as evil, and probably see fuckdoll as a beaten "wife" who needs help. If only she could see that.. Etc etc.

I can (I hope) safely assume that, as you are reading this blog, you are able to separate abuse from SM. But, I still find society's general consensus to disposable people, yet horror at certain consentual activities quite odd.

Now, if you don't mind, I'm going to cuddle my little fuckdoll and try and get some more sleep.

Have a good day everyone, and check out that movie. Its a good one.

;)

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I've lost faith in Darwin. Evolution stopped centuries ago. Humans are getting dumber.

This week, I'm doing the graveyard shift at work, meaning I need to sleep during the daylight hours. A long story I won't go into means than I'm now knackered, grumpy and sat in a cafe drinking a decaf latte before attempting more sleep in a short while.

But there's something irritating the fuck out of me. Its the self-righteousness of parents of young children.

Nothing makes my anger boil like when my relaxing coffee or lunch is distrubed by a screaming child that has one of these parents. Kids and babies cry from time to time, I completely understand that. But the pat of the scenario that makes me want to go mass-homicidal is when the parents ignore it. Or, in the case now in front of me, they laugh and make googoo faces and noises as the devil spawn screaming bloody murder.

I've caught eye contact with the father who's the culprit in this situation and he obviously doesn't care that the rest of the cafe patrons are being distrubed. He's waving his arms around as if to say "well, if I've lost all care for the screaming, you shouldn't be too concerned either"

But. I AM concerned. I'm concerned that you are teaching your child that screaming and shouting in public is a completely acceptable passtime. They allow the child to scream more and more as the months and years pass, and claim that this teaches the child that screaming gets you nowhere.

But I beg to differ. (Face it, you knew that was coming!)

I call my theory the "Happy Meal Syndrome". First, a kid asks for a happy meal, and they are refused. Kid then throws a very small tantrum, and obtains the happy meal. Kids aren't stupid, and this only means that next time, they start the negotiation at the small tantrum next time. The parent, again, ignores it to "teach" it that screaming gets you nowhere. And then, they give in.

This syndrome is carried on into adult life. Ask yourself why people completely loose the fucking plot at store clerks for no apparent reason. Or why people go nuts at call centre workers. Or sit in non-moving traffic beeping the horn.

Is there any other example more perfect than a herd of cars, all stationary, and most of them beeping the horn at the (non moving) car in front of them? What do they actually hope to achieve? This is the happy meal syndrom in full effect. Make loud noises and you are meant to get what you want.

I'll give you another example. On last night's shift the three guys on the phones (myself and two co-workers) had one woman call in a total of 7 times over the shift, asking the same question. It was a question that she had to ask another department, that only open during business hours. But she came to the conclusion that repeatedly calling and, effectively, being a crying baby, would give the required outcome.

Fuck. People are stupid.

Anyone got any other examples that they wanna get off their chests? We people with functioning brains need to stick together!


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