[xxxispillcoffeexxx]

It's like we are programmed at birth with these superficial responses to trauma and tragedy and misery of another person. "I'm so sorry." No you're not, you feel obligated to say that because you don't know anything else to say. We want to be nice, we want to appear that we are likable and approachable. Don't touch me, I don't want your sympathy, yes I do, I crave it.

I'm accepting the fact I am a manic depressive and have a myriad of mental illnesses. My relationships are based in angry obsessions and explosions of emotions. Black or white. I'm not even here anymore, I'm on auto drive and anti social. I've lost five pounds. Today is my third day on Prozac; the fifth of my cocktail of "leveling out pills."

Pdoc "let's try and make this a better year okay sweetie?" Therapist, "you are overgeneralizing your symptoms. Me-I do for attention, to have someone rescue me." Therapist-"that's been disproven." Mindfulness... how's this for mindfulness?

Words are useless. Everything is artificial and forced and everyone has motive for their speech. Do this, no do this and you'll feel better. SHUT UP! JUST SHUT UP! I'm avoiding because that's what I do best. Go to work and smile like everything is fine, indulge in the superficial. Be respectful and listen don't interrupt. Don't show emotion, right dad?

Feel sorry for grandma because her memory is gone and her husband of fifty six years is dead and buried. Dad do the right thing take care of her and let her have her mood swings in which she verbally assaults everyone around her and calls you Grandpa. Don't look for a job, live off her money while your brother claims he can't help. Uncle-"I get through it, I don't know how, I just do."

Drug addicted and alcoholic sister "everyone has a sob story, wah, get over it." "You really are crazy?"-she found me curled on the bathroom floor laughing then crying then laughing again.

It's an expression of frustration, the rage and the mood swings. I know what it is, I can name the symptoms and latch onto them and repeat them till I believe them. I've read the self help books, I've been handed over to a new therapist after three years with my last one. I question my ability to love anyone or have even a relationship with my dysfunctional family. I'll be quiet and live out my fantastic assertions in writing, my only expression.