In case anybody cares

I'm not really okay but I am not in danger of committing suicide, so any suicidal talk that may come is suicide IDEATION, mmmkay? If I went to the ER every time I felt suicidal I'd have to just move in there. So, I am not in some sort of planning stage of suicidal. Let's just get that out of the way right there. I hate it when I try to talk about how I'm feeling and I get people going OMGYOURESUICIDALGETTOTHEER!!!!

I appreciate the concern but I am not in danger of committing suicide. Okay?

Suicide ideation is part of what I live with. Don't give me the meds lecture. I've been diagnosed with bipolar disorder for eight years. I know all about meds. I know most of them don't work for me. I take the only one that works at all: a low dose of lithium. The other stuff I take is all herbal and it works better than the pharmaceutical stuff. Everyone wants to think that psych meds are a magic bullet. They aren't. Sometimes they're worse than the problem. Now that we've gotten that out of the way, everyone can skip the meds lecture. I'm crazy, not ignorant. Besides, I'm a health care professional. So I do know something about meds on that level.

I'm depressed and discouraged. I'm broke and see no signs of getting less broke. This economy sucks ass. I've lost a lot in the past year, including getting stabbed in the back by a couple of so called friends, one of whom I keep dreaming about. I have to take my dog to the vet on Friday which is probably going to cost me a shit ton of money. I would like to rehome these dogs, but it is too depressing to me to think that I will never see them or hear about them again. When I had to give one of my cats to my ex husband because my calico cat was terrorizing her, at least I knew I'd see her again. 

Here's the thing: I didn't know what it was like taking care of dogs. I never had dogs. I figured it couldn't be that much harder than cats. BWAHAAHAHAHAAAA!!!!! Oh, stupid Faycin. I don't really like interacting with dogs. I don't like how needy they are. It's like having a permanent two year old. When I get home after working all night I don't feel like walking them. I don't like them licking my face. I don't like scooping their poop. Yeah, you have to deal with cat poop too, but I have this great rolling litterbox that makes it easy. At least that's one thing that works around here.

I like dogs--when they're somebody else's. I want to do good things for dogs and find them good homes. I rue the day when I brought dogs into my home. 

I've been having a hard time cleaning. But I have to make myself do it. I hate having to deal with it.

I pretty much hate my life.

But committing suicide would fuck other people over so I won't. 

So no, I'm not really okay at all. But I'm not in danger of offing myself. It's just same shit different day.