It started last night (Or maybe I'll say it started 23 years, 7 months, 9 days, 18 hours, fifty minutes and thirty seconds ago).
Mom had gone into a fit of rage and was beating our Cocker Spaniel for not listening to her and turned to be and said that she did not want my boyfriend's dog here anymore. Naturally, he became dramatic after I told him and left, turning to her briefly enough to say, "My dog isn't the reason your dog misbahaves." Her being her came back with $R@#% !$@#. Then turned to me and said I was a liar and needed to talk to my therapist more because obviously I wasn't telling her I was hearing things. Continued to scream at me as I locked myself in my room and cried. I just want a hole to live in. One that belongs to me. She told me the other day that she couldn't possibly be bipolar. The fact that its viciously genetic and she flirts with disaster is a definite no. In case any of you were wondering, I got this disorder out of the sky.
It's really hard to be sane when your support group crashes around you and is full of people who won't help you.
I'm moving in with my boyfriend and will move myself away from her so I can recover properly. We're looking for an apartment that will take us, on a limited budget, by the end of the month.
My job is suffering. I can't get my act together. I don't know if this is the right choice, but I've been so upset I can't think striaght. My tdoc asked me not to make any rash decisions before this happened because of the episode I was having, but how do you fail to make decisions if your life isn't stable? What do you do when you have to make one? I'm so lost.