By now, I suspect everyone who is reading this had heard the news about Carrie Fisher. If you haven’t — she died. It sucks. It REALLY sucks. I’ve already blathered about it elsewhere, but man like… *waves hands* It hurts. She was important to us Bipolaratti for being one of us, and for being out there and unashamed of it (I also admire this in Demi Lovato like woah). I’m actually kind of worried that I’m going to see some of my friends offing themselves in response. I seriously hope not, but like… of all the horrible, horrible deaths in 2016, and they have been legion, this is the one that hits closest to home for me. I called her Momma Carrie. I dreamed of meeting her and getting a hug. I sincerely believed that it would and could happen, as a lot of the Star Wars stuff is filmed local to me.
But really y’all, if you’re shaken up about this… reach out and talk to another bipolar friend. I don’t want us to lose any more of our folks right now. Even if bipolar didn’t get Carrie in the end, she was still one of us. :/
That aside, I’m mainly doing well. I pray that remains the case, as once again they’re threatening to close the psych ward I go to. My most local friend commented that they’ve been threatening to close it the entire nine years she’s been down here, but still. It affects her *slightly* less than it affects me. I’m just going to have to yanno, keep optimistic about it, I guess. As said, I’m doing mainly well. My biggest issue has been insomnia, but that has been mitigated by reintroducing one of my childhood stuffed animals to my bed. Not gonna lie — give absolutely no fucks about what anyone thinks about that. It helps. And makes me smile, because the name I gave that poor rabbit when I was little — George Jefferson Rainbow Brite Bunny Rabbit. I named him when I was five or so… you can probably guess what my favourite shows on television were at the time. Yes, I was weird even then, ha ha.
Right, I’m off. Just trying to make sure everyone knows I’m here and alive and like… stuff.