I don’t know if I have a touch of hypergraphia or if I’m just lonely but I sure have the compulsion to write! I am still waiting for the job to start – the latest is they think it will be the middle of next week. I had a Come To Jesus email with the recruiter and account manager and said basically, HEY! I DO have a job, don’t I? And they assured me that yes, I do, they are just getting the contract signed, and the manager is out this week. My imaginative and paranoid mind thought that they were interviewing other candidates and keeping me on the back burner. But they said in no uncertain terms that I DO have a job.
So in the meantime I am trying to keep busy. I am actually cleaning my apartment, I have become that desperate for things to do. Yesterday was surfaces, today is floors, tomorrow is bathrooms. I have to space it out because my poor back can’t take too much in a day. I’ve also been walking every day, and cheese and rice am I out of shape!! I haven’t exercised with any regularity in a long time, I’m embarrassed to say. It used to be a regular part of my self-care, and when I let it go by the wayside, I ballooned up thirty pounds. Now I want to get back into it, and hopefully get rid of this pregnant-looking belly (I know it’s hot as hell but hey!).
My mood has been pretty good, a little sinking here and there when I get overwhelmed with the tasks I have set out for myself, and I have to give myself a pep talk, and focus on just the one task at hand, not all the things I want to do. I’m easily overwhelmed, which can lead to discouragement. I’m also a bit lonely. I’m quite isolated with no contact with Dr. Flaky and not going to Mom & Dad’s three times a week like I’m used to. I was just so determined that I wanted this free time to myself, but I didn’t think through how isolating it would be. Oh dear . . . Soon enough I will long for this time . . .
Well I suppose I will start vacuuming up the dust piles here . . . better put on a gas mask . . . I hope the sweet little birdies survive the storm! Hope you all are having a good week! Peach out! BPOF
People, apartment living ain’t for wimps. ESPECIALLY sketchy apartment living! I jumped into this place because it was a one bedroom as opposed to a studio that was in my price range and I didn’t really take a good look around first and honey, have I lived to regret that. There is every kind of noise here, from trashy car-revving noise to babies crying to kids screaming to neighbors screaming at each other to bongos being played to LOUD SEX, oh how I cringe at hearing other people’s sex! The neighbor above me is particularly inconsiderate and seems to think he lives on an island and can do any-damn-thing he wants at any-damn-time he wants, and let me tell you, my hostility level is through the roof! Up to now, I have taken the path of least resistance, for the most part. Granted, I did knock on his door four times when he was playing music that sounded like hammers coming through the ceiling, and he didn’t answer the door, and I did call the cops on him. But since then, I’ve tried to bury my head in the sand, afraid to say anything to the landlord, afraid he’d offer to let me out of my lease, treat ME like the problem.
Cut to the now, where I’m at my wits end, having been woken up in the middle of the night too many times to count by the loser upstairs. You and I both know that a Bipolar person needs their damn sleep! Last night was the last straw. So today I put on my big-girl panties, and sent the landlord a longgg text outlining my grievances with the guy upstairs (no, not God, literally the guy upstairs). After all this time and all this agonizing, the landlord got right back to me and said “This is not ok. I was not aware. I will intervene for you.” Just like that!
Soooo what’s the lesson? Sometimes ya just gotta stand up for yourself. ESPECIALLY when you’re feeling victimized. And being woken up out of a sound sleep was making me feel bad, let me tell you. Will it happen again? Probably. Will I take it lying down. HELL NAH!! I’m on the self-care train now. Git yer buns on it with me! Fire! That’s why they call me Bipolar on FIRE!!