So for a while I've been putting off the inevitable. I need to get back into therapy and onto medication. I'm not really sure what is wrong with me, just that i'm nuts. You can tell what kind of nuts I am based on my family though... 

Family history: grandparents-diagnosed with "anxiety attacks"; mother-diagnosed as "bipolar with severe depression, severe paranoia, and mild schizophrenia"; older sister-diagnosed as "biploar with severe depression, paranoia, and multiple personality disorder".

Give you an idea of what people have to deal with IRL? Yeah... So my breaking point was probably when I broke a glass over my boyfriends face (IN DENNY'S WITH 7 OF OUR FRIENDS) while we were out drinking one night. I was uncontrollable and the next day my boyfriend determined we needed to take a break. Fair enough. So what do I do at our housewarming party 5 days later? I don't watch my alcohol levels and I end up drunk and freaking out on him again, this time sucker punching him and screaming that he was trying to kill me.  Insert disappointment and utter shame.

So I stopped drinking for a time and decided to accept that I need mental help before I end up committed. But I can't even get that right. "How can one mess up their chances of getting help?" you wonder? Simple.

I got a referral from my county to go to the only remaining county-sponsered clinic that offers counseling and medication for those without insurance, only to find out that because I am not hearing voices or seeing things, because I am not homicidal or suicidal, and because i've never been in prison or hospitalized, I don't qualify. So basically i'm not crazy enough to get help from my county, but I have no insurance so I can't get help elsewhere anyway as I can't afford to. Really... fuck my life. Fuck it in it's fat, jiggly ass.

Speaking of my fat, jiggly ass... damn, I could go for some chicken fingers with barbeque sauce!