I've been feeling a lot better. Focusing on acceptance has proved to be very helpful. I pray for acceptance like a frat boy prays for beer and pussy. Imagining what it would be like to not feel ashamed for my delusional past has paved the way for more pleasant emotions. I'm still freakishly sensitive, however.

I had a horrible incident with my oldest brother a couple days ago. I was talking to him and some other family members about my depression and suicidal ideation. I was only a few sentences in when he joined the group and, preferring a lighter topic, demanded I stop talking. I was crushed, shocked, embarrassed and, of course, ashamed. Asking me politely would have been less hurtful than him saying, with irritation in his voice, "Let's talk about something else," as he gestured his hand down at me and looked away, demeaning my value. I stopped talking immediately and didn't share much for the remainder of my time at his house. When I got into my mom's car with her to leave, I burst into tears like a toddler. "How could he be so insensitive?" I said through my sobbing face. After vowing to never return to his home and saying "fuck mark," about a hundred times, I was ready to let go of the situation.

It was hurtful because it's taken me years to be able to talk about this stuff. Plus, I've always looked up to Mark, so his dissatisfaction with me was not what I intended. Believing his reaction to my words was not intentionally hurtful helps me let go of the whole thing. Truly, I believe his intention was to keep everyone else comfortable. Still, I probably won't be going over there for a while. And I'm certainly done looking up to him. I'll continue to admire Terrence McKenna, Ken Wilbur, Chali 2na, Del and everyone else who works to make other people feel good.

I'm grieving about losing the life I had always envisioned for myself. I'm not able to take care of myself like other normal people are, and realizing this is very painful. I wish I knew when the the feelings of inadequacy and disappointment would dissipate. I imagine I can't feel bad about being mentally ill my whole life... I hope I can't.

I'm set on recovery. That's why I tried working, going to school, and not smoking pot. BTW, I started smoking again a couple days ago. I can't afford to not smoke weed. It makes me want to kill myself so much less than usual. I'm now beginning to see weed as an actual remedy. The therapeutic benefit is undeniable. The worst thing about it is that it's not viewed as helpful by my family or the medical community (although my psychiatrist told me she wouldn't advise me to stop smoking because of the mixed opinions in the medical community). So, for now, I'm making burning ganj part of of my recovery plan. IDK what else I should be doing, though. I know that working a part-time job and/or going to school is definitely out of the question. Maybe I'll get my massage permit and start doing a few massages a week.

IDK what I'll do. I guess, for now, all i can really handle is sitting in mental torment. It takes a lot of effort to not kill myself. It's like this constant battle that I've been in since a child. It seems so reasonable, yet, at the same time, it seems too permanent and like it would bring so much unnecessary suffering to my family and friends. I really don't want to make anyone feel bad, but sometimes I feel like them asking me to not kill myself is just ridiculous. Like, "Dude, if you knew how it was you'd feel ok with me choosing to end my life." But people don't know how it is. This is another thing I'm beginning to realize. People have a very small conception of the feelings that accompany suicidal ideation. I guess it's good for them, but I wish there was more compassion and understanding for people suffering from this highly stigmatized disorder.

And why aren't there groups of people who can't work who meet up during the day? I get so lonely during the week, and tv is so boring. Loneliness will probably always be a huge issue in my life. I relate so much better to other bipolar people, but they're pretty rare. Especially bipolar 1 people. Everyone and their aunt gets diagnosed bipolar 2, but I've only met one other bipolar 1 person. She tells me that I'm the only person she knows who shares her path of hardship. Not working/not going to school is another formulae for loneliness. I wish I could handle these things, but I have to be realistic.

I wish I could go beyond hating my life and be like, "ok, it's time to not feel shitty anymore," but I don't have that ability. All I can do is pray for acceptance of the never-ending nightmare that is my existence. haha, maybe that's a little dramatic, but you get the point. I'm just disgusted by my weak nature and have a really hard time finding hope. Actually, I'm way beyond disgusted. I'm absolutely mortified by my condition. It's the most debilitating thing I've known, and I'm still discovering just how debilitating it is. Having my dream of living a good life vanish before me because I'm afflicted with something so out of my control is constantly devastating.

I hate waking up and knowing I have to spend another day as a lonely mentally ill deadbeat. Thinking about trying to change my position in society is even more frustrating. I feel like all I'm capable of is taking bong rips and petting my chihuahua. I want so much to have a nice story that goes with me. Right now, my story is that I was a miserable child who grew up to be a miserable adult. Supposedly because I have a chemical imbalance in my brain.

I don't believe my suffering is just from a chemical imbalance. That's just what psychiatrists say. There is no testing of your brain that happens before they assure you that you're suffering from a chemical imbalance. It's just what they say after they've seen you act "not normal."

Oh well, at least I won't have to sweat on a farm or cry at school today. It could always be worse.