They Call me Spitfire [tales of madness and sheenin out]

so as always we'll start the post by appologuising for not blogging ever. i mean it this time though... its been like a month and a half!! some legit shit's gone down though... i was majorly depressed an basically had a mental breakdown, tried to overdose, lost my job, lost my boyfriend. a whole world of suckage. i kind of hit rock bottom and as my mom said, i was "kind of acting like charlie sheen."

its what all the cool kids are doing nowadays!

for the several months of depression i pretty much did nothing but slept 14+ hours a day, more if possible facilitated by taking all manner of sleep aids: amitriptaline which jackies old roommate had left her [i used to take it for sleep problems, its actually an antidepressant but its prescribed for sleep now], drug store sleep pills, nyquil. id sleep, wake up, and take something else. i just didnt want to be awake. i was still dragging my ass out of bed to go to work at Fantasy Gifts but it was a huge struggle every day leading to tears sometimes because i just didnt want to go. while i was there i hated every second of it, especially those when there were customers in the store. i was pretty okay if the store was empty and i was just reading... but any customers sent me into a wiggins. i started shirking ALL the rules and used my phone and read while customers were in the store to make it more tolerable and make msyelf feel less anxious and awkward. i played endless rounds of solitaire on my phone just to have something else to look at other than customers. people probably robbed us blind, but i really didnt care. i was late for work all the time and making constant mistakes, and i was sure i was going to get fired.

i was still dating Luke at this time too but seeing him very rarely, like every other week, due to our work schedules plus when his partner would let him see me. half the time i would cancel our dates especially if they had to do with going out and doing anything or any special things we had planned because of nerves, i just wanted to stay in bed. at the same time i was courting a few other guys, and i would text-flirt them, send them naughty pics, then make plans to meet up and cancell them at the last minute. i think i was just kidding myself to think that i could even leave the house. i would always think, this time would be different, ill really go... and i wouldnt. id do this with everything, going out with friends, my therapy appointments. i couldnt leave the house, i couldnt even leave my bed i was in such a deep depression. i couldnt even put clothes on or take a shower, all i wanted was the darkness and my pillow.

i made a conscious choice to quit going to my therapy and med check appointments. i decided to just give up and go off the deep end, i just didnt give a shit anymore about anything. the only thing remaining was my job, and one day i just gave up on that too. i decided i wasnt going to go, and to avoid it, i took a handful of sleeping pills and antidepressants. yes, i went out and got a pizza beforehand just in case i died, i wanted to treat myself to a good meal [a $5 little caesars pizza... i didnt have the money for lobster]. i ate the pizza, turned off my phone, and told my roommate to check on my in 12 hours to see if i was dead or alive. i cant say if this constitutes an attempt to kill yourself or not, but i definately didnt care if i died or not.

i know rite, how cliche. like one of my high school idols, marla singer: "this isnt a for real suicide thing. this is just one of those cry for help things."

obviously, i woke up. feeling like shit and kind of disappointed that nothing happened, there was no ambulance, no fanfare, and nobody except my roommate knew about it. the problem when you dont actually wind up in the hospital is then you have to actually TELL people that you tried to kill yourself, and thats just kind of awkward. so i had the pleasant task of telling my boss and then my mom about it. im a pussy so i wrote my mom a long, completely insane letter that i hope is saved forever and put in a museum someday. if i had it id scan it right now and post it, the writings all over the page and you can visually see how batshit it am. my mom did her mommy thing and faxed it to my therapist, my psychiatrist and my social worker....

so heres a little lesson for all your aspiring suicidal psychotics out there: if youre planning on writing your loved ones a note about how you want to kill yourself, and they fax that note to a mental health professional, guess what happens? they call the police. so its... five days after my pill-popping event and my roomie wake me up at 8am, scared shitless because the cops are at the door looking at for me. Jackiedarling is currently awaiting trial for a DUI so this scared the TAR out of her, thinkin, "theyre coming to get me!" and *im* thinking, "what the fuck did i do last night???" because the night before me and Amyboo had gone out and gotten shitfaced because well, why the fuck not? when youve gone off the deep end and your main option is going to the mental hospital, you better drink the fuck up while you can. so we did get shitfaced and i was PRETTY sure we didnt do anything illegal but i know Amy did yell "NIGGA PLEASE!!" really loud in the white horse and is that a hate crime...? or maybe did we run somebody over? witness the shenanaigans:

 amy compells me to tell you she does NOT have the herpaderp, she had just gotten a new peircing that day. we are drunk as balls in the White Horse bathroom taking pictures. its about 1am and we were wearing sunglasses in a bar thats dark as an armit. THATS HOW WE ROLL. we'd just bought new sunnies that day... keep in mind that i cannot see SHIT out of mine because they're not prescription.

"wait, stand in front of me so i dont look fat!" thanks a lot boo.

my natural badassery. lookin and feelin invicible... definately winning.

anyways... back to the next mornging, and never in my life have i had a cop at my door so i was scared as fuck. but it was a quick "do you want to kill yourself now? no? well be good." conversation. just a warning though... thats what happens when you tell people you want to kick the bucket. its a pretty ineffectual system unless youre actually passed out in your room about to go into the light and they have to kick the door down.

so then i had some fun conversations with my doctors. around the time i wrote the note i had a major upswing where i was still feeling crazy as hell and like i didnt give a fuck about life but there was a lot of rambling and yelling. i was essentially "sheen-ing out." there was a point where i was ranting to my therapist and i realized i wasnt even listening to what i was saying, i couldnt even understand my own words, and i looked at him and said "did anything i just said make sense?" and he was like "nope."

LONG STORY SHORT, this incident caused my doctors to realize that i am not majorly depressive with borderline personality disorder, im actually bipolar. the two have very similar symptoms and because ive only really been going to therapy when im having major depressive swings they havent really seen the mania so its difficult to diagnose. the problem is that the antidpressants ive been  taking [lately generic Celexa] actually make bipolar symptoms worse, which is why ive gotten incredibly depressed. for the last two weeks ive been on Lithium which is supposed to really help. it also makes me feel AWESOME because its such an uberdrug and is mentioned in a lot of great songs! theres the nirvana song:

and then, more shamefully theres the Evanescence song, which is now stuck in my head all the time.

yeah, so thats my life right now. i dont have a job or a boyfriend anymore, and right now im on a waiting list to get into a partial hospitalization program where'll ill go in every day for like six hours of various kinds of therapy. ive been prepping for this by watching plenty of girl interrupted, although my therapist has informed me that mental hospitalization has been significantly reformed post-reagan so its unlikely ill be hanging around playing acoustic guitar and shaving in front of whoopi goldberg. slightly disappointing. i have this fantasy of looking SO MUCH COOLER than all the other mental patients with my dyed hair and bright fuschia lipstick and everyone will think, well shes crazy but shes so COOL too, ill be like their angelina jolie.

i wouldnt complain if some of this happened.

this is pretty much me.

[bonus late-great brittany murphy! she is SO GOOD in girl interrupted... dont they know its the end of the world?]

so im just hanging out now... kind of in limbo between wanting to act all-out crazy and actively trying to get better. i want to still be crazy when i do get into treatment, you know? gotta impress them all with my mad mania skills. i do admit i was on fire for a while there. see thats the problem with bipolar disorder... the mania part of it just makes me feel totally fucking awesome. im *ON*. i get my perfect outfit and my blue hair and im like, super fucking funny. when i decided to go off the deep end and just let my emotions go i was spouting some hilarious but totally insane shit... por example: so im driving around with jackie i think en route to go clean her old apartment and i see this guy on a bike with the whole lycra shorts and safety helmet, and i just yell at him, "I WANNA TAKE A SHIT ON YOUR HEAD!!!!!" *thats* what happens when i take my filter down. its funny, but it also scares me because it comes out of nowhere and i dont know why seeing a bicyclist makes me want to shit on their head [well i mean, i do really hate people who exercise so self-righteously]. im totally worried that the lithium is going to make me loose my comedy gold, so PLEASE tell me if i stop being funny and i will go back to being a total hot mess.

whats helped me a lot during this time is reading Carrie Fisher's memoir "Wishful Drinking." it deals somewhat with her addictions to alcohol and pills but the underlying cause is her bipolar disorder. the woman is fucking HILARIOUS and i recommend this book to anyone... its got everything: insane hollywood drama from her uberfamous parents [her dad left her mom for the late great liz taylor!], the inside dish on star wars, lots of booze and drugs and craziness escapades and what a dick paul simon is.

[i much prefer this to the gold bikini btw... but thats just me. i like guns and jumpsuits.]

now it turns out all kinds of celebs are coming out bipolar! i got a new People mag that has catherine zeta-jones AND demi lovato talking about how theyve been hospitalized trying to deal with it [lovato also has eating disorder/self injury shit to deal  with, poor kid! and she punched her backup dancer LOLOLOL. i hear ya sister, i feel like punching a bitch all the time]. that does help a lot to hear other people have it, and that others have needed to be hospitalized  to deal with it.

im actually kind of looking forward to the hospitalization process... actually this whole period of being really open with my friends and family about whats been going on internally with me for a long time has been really freeing and nice, i actually... kind of feel like myself for the first time. i hope that ill be able to be a better person when this is through... i feel really terrible about some of the things ive done while ive been sick... especially all the people ive jerked around when i was setting up dates and gettogethers and never going to any of them. i know there are a few people that i burned bridges with that i wont get the opportunity to get to know now and that sucks. for the moment im not really dating and thats kind of good for me i think. but LAWD ive been CELIBATE for like two months, since before Luke and i broke up. i cant say this celibacy is going to last forever... cuz you know how my libido do... but i dont want to keep making promises i cant keep. and if i cant find it in me to make a relationship work with someone i like as much as him then i probably shouldnt be dating at all. eh i dont know... the dating thing is really complicated. with how much my moods and crazy ideas jerk me around i feel like i cant really trust anything i feel, except my deepest emotions like i know i love my friends and some other romantic stuff id rather not talk about.

well, i think this has gone on enough. thats sort of a general picture of whats been going on with me and why i havent been blogging a lot lately. thanks to anybody who read through this encyclopedia de crazie... i promise to be back with more fun things like shoe pics and tales of visiting prison!

xoxoxo
Jesika Gothowitz
[and oh my do i have a story for your about the Gothowitz... but i gotta leave you waiting for more. let your imaginations run wild.]

BWOMMMMM[let your feelings slip boy but never your mask]

this is so fucking amazing i had to blog about it right the fuck now. i linked you to Hyperbole and a Half earlier, and you better have fucking read it if you werent already because its the funniest shit in the world. somebody made a video of her story The God of Cake, which is fucking amazing to begin with and i have used many of its pictures to describe my crazy and fat moods, such as:

gay.

rite??

cakeinsanity.

i hate my grandma.* i love cake so much more than her.

[*i am pretty sure allie brosch doesnt hate her grandma. she was just a child who really wanted cake. but if she does hate her grandma, more power to her. sometimes your grandma sucks and you have to hate her, it happens.] [*issues*]

and my favorite emotion, fat.
all images (c) Allie Brosch, i did not draw these and do not have any rights to them. just reposting to show how much she rocks. <3 <3 <3 lub you plz dont hate me.

anyways somebody made a video of these images set to the music of the inception trailer, and it is the most amazing dramatic thing ever and it will rock your fucking socks off. watch it NAOW!!!!:

ok right now i need to order some pizza. and mother of fucking god do i need to clean today. that is something youll never hear from me so fucking savor it while you can. but its like EVERY SINGLE SURFACE IN OUR APARTMENT IS COVERED IN CAT LITTER. how the fuck do the cats do this????? i think its a combination of Oscar von Douche playing in the cat box for hours at a time and Poppy the Mountain Hag Cat not being able to groom herself or do anything so litter gets stuck all over her feet and hairy legs and she doesnt do a thing about it. lately theres been a dusting of cat litter on the back of my couch were Poppy occassionally sits which is gross but i just brush it off. but last night as i was thoroughly cleaning the thing i noticed that in the seams between the cushions there were DRIFTS of litter, tons of it like fucking sand on a beach. OMGGGGG it was gross i almost had a meltdown like i do from gross things sometimes. and its all over the table Poppy uses to get to my couch, and the carpet so i have to wear slippers... so ugh, cleaning today. my vaccuum just vomits and dies whenever you try to use it so lets hope the carpet shark [repurposed from work] can at least get some of the job done.

wow that was a fun rant about cat litter and cleaning. sorry. that was neither sexy not fashiony. well in sexy news ive been having tons of sexy dreams lately about some of my paramours, last night i was in a casino with the foxy D and just couldnt wait to get to the hotel with him, we were making out even as we were getting out of the car and you know when you have dream makeouts that are like super intense, you can feel every little thing and its all movie-like, like you can see the sunlight sparkling off everything and its kind of slo mo and dreamy? maybe im the only person who has dreams like this. anyways there was making out, and walking through the casino where there were crazy backwoods yokels stalking us [this is happening to me in real life, theyre EVERYWHERE in st cloud lately] and planning on killing us once we got to the hotel room. whatever, we got in there and barricaded the door and went at it.

but there was also Z there, who in the dream was D's little brother, and Z was having like hot super naughty gay sex with some dude, and everything was sexy and awesome. Z has the prettiest hair.

wow totally random dream rambling as well. should not be blogging before i fully wake up or eat anything. but those are the kinds of super sexy dreams i have all the time about like every guy i meet. ive had multiple dreams about D now and the anticipation of not being able to meet up with him for weeks is KILLIN me smalls and reflected in my dream libido. libido which was totally in hybernation for a while but is suddenly ragin. OMG i even hit on a random guy in a bar and gave him my number, what the hale ive NEVER done that before [with the exception of the three people i hit on at Jacks 21st birthday bar crawl, but those were party people who i actually talked to for a while so its a little different]!! thats where i met Z. Amy hit on his cousins boyfriend also and we were just PIMPIN that night. that guy showed us his nipples and danced with us and was all out crazy... then he started yelling the n-word outside LOL. my dude wasnt exactly a peach either, he just kept saying how everything fucking sucks. OH MY GOD am i sick of whiny, lonely, depressed dudes lately!!!!! how do you ever expect to get a girl if youre going to bitch all the fucking time?!? ...except for in Z's case because i was bound and determined and i even bought him a shot to try to cheer him/shut him up. and gave him my number. oh well. that was a fun little experiment that i really dont care how it works out. im much more intrigued by whats going to happen with Amyboo and this nipple-showing racist!!

will keep you posted. keep it real, keep it sexy.

SEX BOMB!!!

x. jesika gothowitz