Quite a few entries ago (the one I simply titled What…?), I had touch upon the idea of having different parts of your personality without having multiple personalities per se. Also that I just name those parts of my personality to make it easier to let people know how I’m feeling.

I’ve been in Kiki mode…

If you haven’t read that entry, Kiki was my nickname in high school, back when I was dark, depressed and filled with this barely controlled rage. Sometimes I missed her… She got things done because she didn’t give a flying figgin’ ass fuck what she said or did. Oh, I’d see her now and again, not as raging as she once was, but she would pop up when she needed to.

Unfortunately, since I had my bar session at the hippie dippy store, which was the day my mother finally gave in and said she would go the the emergency room (always a good idea when you highly suspect you had a heart attack four days prior), it’s like I’ve been stuck in Kiki mode ever since. Literally! I’m raging out pretty much constantly and I’m not sure that I should be speaking to anyone without some sort of supervision, to be honest. Things are a lot more dangerous now than they were when I was in high school, so raging out might have bad consequences. Plus the other parts of my personality aren’t exactly happy that I’m stuck in Kiki mode at the moment. They know the horrible things she says and does… They don’t like it.

I just had to crop out my favorite muse from my “Modern Day Muses” drawing… Melpomene seemed to be everyone’s favorite out of them all and, right now, I’m sure yo can see why… Poor thing is a neurotic mess…

I actually contacted my shrink last week because my rage, stress and anxiety were just so out of control. It was a Friday and, unfortunately, he’s not in on Fridays. I think it’s his wife that answered… She was very sweet to me. But she kept asking if I thought I needed to go to the hospital. Um… no. Been there, done that, never again. Listen, if I’m going in there because my anxiety, stress and depression are just all over the place and I’m looking to go back on meds, don’t treat me like a toddler in prison. I’m pretty sure it’s safe for me to use a plastic fucking pen to do crosswords. All we were allowed were those little golf pencils (yeah, because I couldn’t take out someone’s jugular with that, right?). No stuffed animals, not even ones that were just store bought, which I was really pissed about, because they once had bed bugs (not my problem) and no music players, although one girl refused to come out of her room until she got hers. Yeah, that’s fair to the rest of us… And we had our own Nurse Ratchet. No, I don’t want to go into the hospital… I told her what was going on, it was just situational. So she was going to call the doctor to page me.

I love my doctor… He’s Indian (from India, not Native American) and when I answered the phone, he said, “Hello, my friend!” He says this when I go see him, too. “What’s going on, friend?” “How are you feeling, friend?” Not that he doesn’t know my name because he does. But I think he does it to sound friendly, which makes me feel super good most of the time. Or maybe it’s because he used to work with my sister (I found out after I started seeing him) and that’s why he says it. I’m not sure.

Anyway, he did sound genuinely concerned as to what was going on because I was crying at the time, so I told him what was going on with my mother. Thankfully he didn’t suggest going to the hospital (I think we discussed me never wanting to go in there again in one appointment) but he didn’t seem to want to give me any kind of extra meds just to get me through the roughest part of this. I suppose I can’t blame him. I was actually getting a lot better until several months ago when I was having trouble sleeping again and was having more anxiety. He asked if I had a therapist and I told him I had, but I couldn’t go during COVID and when things were opening back up, I called and he never got back to me, so I think he’s not seeing me anymore. His suggestion was to call a therapist… I can’t blame him for not getting more in-depth. He called me from his dentist appointment…

But a therapist… First of all, I couldn’t get into one fast enough, Second… I’ve been seeing therapists since I was 17. So, what, 31 years off and on? I’ve seen some for short periods because I just didn’t mesh with them (especially the guy who just kept asking me questions, “Why do you think you feel that way?” when if I fucking knew, I wouldn’t be there having to pay his dumb ass) and some I saw for years but I reached the point where I felt they helped me all they could. Still… over 30 years of therapy and no one has been able to get to the root of my issues. Why am I still paying these idiots?! Honestly, I’m just fucking done with therapy. I’m not saying it didn’t help when I was younger because it did, to a point. And it helped me through a lot of shit. Yet I still never got to the root of a lot of things. I think there are things in there that I’ve got buried so deep that nothing is going to bring it the fuck out. The bar sessions seem to help more. Plus they’re cheaper. Sadly, insurance doesn’t cover hippie-dippy therapy…

However, there is one good thing that’s going to come of this raging out shit…

For the last several months, I’ve noticed my bank app will suddenly say that $200 was taken from my account. So I call the bank, they say they don’t see anything like that on their end and, when it comes to other questionable withdrawals, they tell me they can see it but can’t see who took it out. Um… you’re the fucking bank!!! You can so see that shit! That’s been irking me for some time, but now it’s war… Where I should have several hundred dollars left, it says I only have a dollar and change?! I know what I spent in those two days… Not only that, but now the bank has a new policy that they’re not giving you full access to checks you deposit right away because “some checks haven’t been clearing”. What the actual fuck?! I was also given counterfeit $100 bills once (luckily I knew someone high up at Target and didn’t get arrested), immediately went to the bank, told them what was going on, showed them how the paper literally crumbled in my hand and they swore their machine said they were fine. My ass… So today I get to go lose my shit… I’m in Kiki mode and this is when she shines brightest. And, if need be, I’ll flat out accuse the fuckers of embezzling money and I’ll call the Department of Justice from right there inside the god damn bank! I’m so sick of this shit…

I know… it’s a weird drawing. It’s like an anti-Valentine drawing. I was never keen on the holiday even if I did have a someone special…

Anyway… Tomorrow is my mom’s surgery. I suppose that’s why I chose this drawing. I actually went online to pull up one of those charts that you see in the doctor’s office that shows the drawings of the heart, the inner workings, all that fun shit, just to draw an anatomically correct heart. If I had balls, this drawing would have been a pain in them… I mean, I loved the results, but I cursed myself, wondering what I was thinking as I put in all the work.

I’m worried about tomorrow… You know, in all my years, I remember my mom having all of 3 surgeries, all minor. I’ve had 8 since I was 16 (if you count my wisdom teeth removal which was pretty bad, they were all bone impacted) and 6 of them were within the last 15 years. My mom has been pretty lucky with her health, honestly, Luckier than me! Hell, I had an ovary rupture… What are the odds? Literally, they are a million to one I was told… But this is a heart. The only thing scarier is if they were going into her brain… So right now I’m not feeling very good and I’m very unforgiving. So yeah, my trip to the bank today will be fun. You may want to start a Go Fund Me for my bail…

Honestly, I just can’t wait for this shit show to be over…

I feel like I’m losing my marbles, here, and I feel like I’m going through all this alone. I text my friends, they ignore me. One didn’t get back to me until last night, apologizing for not getting back to me sooner. Dude, it was a week… Two other friends still haven’t responded and it’s been over a week. I know, I’m like everyone’s rock. You’re falling apart, you need a friend to lean on for support, I’m your girl. I become the level-headed, take charge person. But, now that I need support and a level head to take charge, I feel like everyone has deserted me. I’m going through this all alone and it’s no fucking fun… I guess they all think the rock doesn’t need a rock on rare occasions. Or they simply don’t care. I don’t know…

You’ll notice I’ve used my art today… really old art. Honestly, I miss Manga Studios and Paint Tool SAI, but the latter isn’t compatible with Mac and Manga Studios isn’t what it used to be and I can’t install it on my Mac because Apple is stupid and doesn’t put in CD-ROM drives for their laptops. Heaven forbid! You wouldn’t be able to make that extra money by selling it separately!

Yeah, I don’t know… I’m just feeling very much the bitch… I’m just going to finish my coffee, get dressed, go lose my shit at the bank then go see my mom…