Mental Health Disclaimer

Hello, fellow denizens of the net. Welcome to the disclaimer! That's right, the disclaimer. Cue more Jello Biafra.

So, let's just make one thing perfectly clear. My brain is fucked. Like, real fucking fucked. Has been for as long as I can remember, probably always will be. I'm bipolar of some variety on top of traumatic mom-related garbage and while I want to be open about it I also don't want this to be a public bitching space.

Nothing against that - it's just not something I find helpful.

That being said, I have times where I will not quite be myself. If I'm being honest, the past several years have been like that (thanks pandemic and unemployment) and I'm only now getting my shit together again.

I am still not quite myself. I am in the process of cobbling together the few not-so-broken bits of 20+ years of constant pain into a person I don't entirely hate because I have things in my life I think are worth trying to do so for. While I have now have medication management, I am actively trying to figure out therapy alternatives because I know that's something I won't be able to afford for a while yet.

In the meantime, I will stumble. This is inevitable, because I am human.
I am telling this to myself as well, not just you guys.

Here is my request:

When I am not quite myself, I am probably going to be a dickhole. I may not know I am being a dickhole. In fact, I would bet on this part. I would like you to tell me I am being a dickhole. I will be mad about it for a while but then I will be able to work toward not being a dickhole.

I do not want to be a dickhole ever but especially not on a place where I'm putting myself out there to cultivate positive relationships.

You may resume your regularly scheduled fucking around on the internet now.