I think the therapist should have paid me today. It was all good news! I’m going to Florida! Yeaaahhhh! I got a health club membership!! Booyah!! I figured out the prescription dilemma! Kickassss!! I got health insurance!!! Supercalifragilous!!!! Now if you don’t have a therapist who says stuff like “kickass, booyah and supercalifragilous”, I suggest you fire him/her immediately and hire ME because I have become a PRO at creating fictional, but very supportive, therapist talk!
At this point in my bipolar career I consider myself to have an honorary PhD, considering I have been in therapy on and off for the better part of … hmmm… let’s just say a lot of fucking years. That doesn’t sound as bad as the real number. So, the new title of this blog is Bipolaronfire, PhD. The doctor is IN! I can speak therapy, ECT, medication, French, and I can curse in Spanish. That’s what you call well-rounded in the educated world. Also, I can fix your fucking computer while I do all that. But I will be an asshole as I do it, because I hate customer service. Total burnout. So there’s that.
My Mom thinks I should be a teacher as my next career, but I’m not doing anything where I can’t be an asshole some of the time, because that’s just the nature of bipolar disorder. Sometimes I’m sweet, and sometimes I am fucking sour. Ask anyone in my family, they’ll tell you! “She has such a big heart!” one person will say. “She is such a big bitch!” another will say. And they’re both right. So, I’ll be a therapist. On those sour days, I’ll just be silent. You know, fuck with their heads. Make them do all the work. Wait a minute! Maybe I should be a psychiatrist!!! This is going to take some more pondering. In the meantime I guess I’ll go watch Cops. Don’t act like you don’t have a totally trashy guilty pleasure tv show you’re workin’ undercover! C’mon…you can tell me.
Peach to the outs, homes!!!