This ain't workin

I can't fake it anymore.

I'm such a hypocrite that the rotten stench of my hypocrisy gags even me.

The baby's doing great-- fat and growing like a weed. Brown hair, who'da thunk it.

The other kids are fine.

I spent last week in a mental hospital, detoxing from my alcoholism and drug addictions and getting medication for my bipolar disorder, which was way out of whack.

There's a lot of the past few weeks that I don't remember, simply because when I'm manic, I do a LOT of drinking and drugs and other horrible things (affairs, dangerous driving, spending huge wads of cash on stupid things, etc.) It wasn't till I actually had the barrel of hubby's .357 in my mouth, though, that I realized I was too out of control to guarantee that I'd live through the week.

15% of us bipolars end up successfully killing ourselves. About half of us try it at least once.

I'm real medicated right now, to keep the mania in check, but it's just making me depressed instead. Plus I'm in danger of losing my nursing license unless I get into some outpatient treatment program, so it's just a lot of hassle and crap I don't want to deal with right now. So I'm signing off on this blog. It's not . . I dunno. It's not indicative of a good Catholic family? Not when the mom is crazy as hell and everythings falling to pieces around us.

Peace out.