Just a friendly reminder that when you hear one or more of the following:
- underrepresented
- identity politics
- *phobia
- toxic *ity
- cis* (though "cisco" is fine)
- diversity
- culture appropriation
- passive-aggressive
- patriarchy
...and other bullshit, feel free to not talk to that person ever again. You'll miss nothing. Always remember that their goal is not equality but power to oppress whoever have a different worldview.

If you fear twitter backlash, fear not. Political shit comes and goes, but the inherent value of what you do is here to stay and means something at all times.

To anyone who wants to judge me because of this — remember, what you have read above comes from a bipolar transgender bisexual rape victim.

Being bipolar sucks. Hypomania kicks you in the chin and your "realize" you're a shitty pprogrammer and your world is ending. Sometimes you get stickers from devRant thouch. mood++
Thanks devRant.

Whatever you do, just keep going.

If you don't have mental capacity to do all tasks today, do one or two. If you want to do that side project you wanted, but lost motivation in the moment, do at least something, like a sign up form. Just keep going. Put some work in, make this day's net impact positive. And it's not all about work! Wanted to play that game you bought on a steam sale but never opened? Play the first level today. Wanted to learn how to make music? Download Ableton or Fruity Loops, watch a tutorial video on YouTube, replicate the steps. Just keep going.

Wandering directionless and letting yourself go is the sure path to misery. Remember — every figment of human behavior has a reason. It is important to identify reasons behind seemingly random behavior patterns and comprehend them in a non-judgmental way. Then, starve what holds you back, and feet what keeps you going.

I have bipolar type I + autism. Using this approach and remembering that everything has a reason helped me debug my low productivity. And no, I don't mean my job, I mean my real goals I want to pursue even if I had a billion in the bank today and never had to work a single day in my life.

Aaand, the reason was?… fear. I discovered I had PTSD all along that manifested when I was misdiagnosed and prescribed strong neuroleptics. In a way, it's a chemical lobotomy, just less invasive and more reversible. My intelligence came back, but it came back together with PTSD.
Now, instead of chasing mythical productivity, I know the reason behind the lack of it — PTSD. It is hard to fight what isn't defined, but it is real to win a fight with a thing with a name and a face.

Just keep going. That's my message to you.

Bipolar disorder means that you can code for 14 hours straight, sleep for 4 hours and feel refreshed ready for another round. You can make art and you can express your thoughts in creative, kinda alien ways.

But here are tradeoffs that make bipolar disorder a disease:
- everyone around you is an enemy
- they’re all acting together to harm you
- nobody understands you
- they all make fun of you
- if I say what I mean, nobody will understand me. I’ll scare them
- I’m extremely aggressive towards everything: people, things, situations, problems. Computer lags so I scream, smash it, throw it out of the window and buy a new overpriced one
- constant uncertainty about whether am I acting right or not

Not really a rant but my biggest fuckup that entirely ruined my IT career and future life

> be me 21yo CS student looking for an internship
> looking for help with my friend and sent him my CV to apply to a big corp
> then I lied that I have sent CV to official email {here the fuck up begins}
> after that I got an instant phone call from a friend of him claiming that the CV was sent properly and I am going to visit a company
> I had a review but it was recorded my CV hasn't got precisely specified technologies so interviewer thought I can manage to work as a dev not an intern
> with my shitty communication skills I managed to "work" there 8days, fucked up someone's computer by deleting his Windows and all data he had and installing Ubuntu instead
> then shit got out of control for an intern I talked a lot of bullshit in this Corp they realized I was there an "alien" and I didn't even know what to do so I wanted to sudo rm - rf myself
> unfortunately my parents woke up that morning I decided to sudo rm - rf and and I am now in mental asylum with fucked up people and the Corp knows where am I and I am going to pay for my stupidity and being naive (I didn't even seen the CEO, I didn't have enough information that I really worked there)
> To sum up, being bipolar, naive and irresponsible has brought me to this point in life. Thank you for reading. I don't see a solution, my parents don't believe me and I feel isolated with this fuckup so I decided to share it as a remark for young people starting in IT. For me it already ended too fast.

So I have BiPolar and Borderline Personality Disorder and had an interview today. We'll I slept in and missed it. My psychiatrist recently changed my meds to help stabilize me. Now I'm up for 2-3 days before I sleep. I timed it so I would be awake, but ended up falling asleep and woke up a half hour after I was supposed yo be there. I'm so pissed off right now! I've been working my ass of learning to code, buy my own brain is sabotaging me. I just want to be a normal person with a normal job. I love programming because I get to be by myself and work away from customers. I'm so frustrated and feel beat down. I don't know what yo do. 😠😤😡

Actually I'm pleasantly surprised about Windows' stability nowadays. It's capable for running for up to a week with no stability issues, whereas systemd on the other hand.. let's just say that my Arch containers could do better right now.

Data mining aside, damn man.. Microsoft is improving for once! Is this the so-many'th unusable/somewhat stable switch? I mean, it's not like we haven't seen that happen yet! Windows 98, shit! Windows 2000, kinda alright! Windows Me, shit! Windows XP, kinda alright! Windows Vista, oh don't even get me started on that pile of garbage! Windows 7, again kinda okay! Windows 8, WHERE THE FUCK DID THAT START MENU GO YOU MOTHERFUCKERS?!!! Windows 10, well at least that Start menu got fixed. Then it got into some severe QA issues, which now seem to have gotten somewhat fixed again.

I'm starting to see a pattern here! 🤔

For rating rants:
count the number of fucks/curses and find the rank of a given rant!

0-5: GENTLE AS A LAMB
6-10: ANGRY GOAT
11-15: NUN WITH PMS
16-20: RUSH HOUR TRAFFIC
21-25: CANTANKEROUS VIETNAM VET
26-30: BREAKING SHIT
31-35: DOMESTIC DISTURBANCE
36-40: BIPOLAR EPISODE
41-45: DESPAIR EVENT HORIZON
46-50: BROKEN CAPSLOCK
51-55: WOKE UP AND CHOSE VIOLENT
56-60: MID LIFE CRISIS
61-65:MASTURBATING WITH WORDS
66+ : MASTER GRAND WIZARD

Fuck life, fuck this society and especially fuck my brain - waking me up at 6 AM and immediately making me burst into tears because bipolar... I mean come on! I can't even sleep anymore?! I know it's hard falling asleep but waking me up just to cry? ...why...

My mother is a manipulative bitch.

From my childhood, I remember nothing but fear and guilt. When I was 13, she shamed me for my body looking ugly and too feminine. She shamed me for having better vision than her, and that I don’t need to wear glasses.

I had a broken toe once, and she shamed me into admitting it wasn’t in fact broken. After two weeks of pain, she finally got me to the doctor, and x-ray had shown it was in fact broken.

She always made me carry her heavy luggage with her crap to the airport, and once I got hernia. The surgery was needed. After the surgery, they didn’t care, didn’t give me the time to recover, and made me carry her crap again. The second surgery was needed. It was more complex than the first one. Now my body is ruined by those disgusting scars. I hate my body now. It is ruined.

She tried to knock down the door into my room when I was crying and didn’t want to talk.

She screamed at me when I wanted to donate some of my old clothes to charity, the ones I bought with my own money. She is so obsessed with her crap. She hoards it, and she was hoarding it into _my_ room, not hers.

My father is still unknown. She abandoned me as a kid for my grandparents to grow me. I barely saw her till the age of six. Then I grew up with her and my stepdad, and their relationship was all manipulation and guilt. She made him apologize and beg almost every day over the course of thirteen years. They were fighting about their miserable sexual life, lack of her orgasms while I was still a kid. She just didn’t care. Once they decided to talk about their pissing kink right next to me when I was (not in fact) asleep.

When I was raped, she did nothing. She just kept on calling me beautiful and insisting she wanted me to wear mascara, while hating gay people. It was all before I realized my gender identity.

She also didn’t notice I was autistic. She liked it, as it gave her advantage. It’s easy to manipulate an autistic teenager.

After my coming-out, she told me she had cancer, and she wanted to stop treatment in order to “die sooner and not see me”.

But once my bipolar disorder awakened, things changed. Bipolar is my shield. I can be manipulated, yes, but bipolar will obliterate my whole world view once a year, together with your manipulative crap you planted into my life. And because it dismantled a 19-year-long, almost fractal manipulative masterpiece, I fear nothing now.

I disowned her some two years ago.

Who am I?

Some of you, because of the hyperbolic, outrageous, trollish, and often self-satirical nature of my posts, might doubt me. Thats completely relatable.

Heres the truth:
I was diagnosed in childhood with ADHD, fucking everyone, every male, these days is diagnosed with that. I was diagnosed bipolar. Hell anyone reading my posts could see that from a mile away. I was diagnosed on the borderline personality spectrum. Yeah, I could see that.

I was tested. They said I was in the 98th percentile for clerical ability, not extraordinary but pretty good, mathematical ability a little higher than that. My SAT was 1491. Not yale material, but I coulda been someone.

Over the years I studied a LOT of politics and read a metric fuckton of books. (40+ books over the course of three years).

I predicted every single presidential election since bush juniors second election. Three supreme court picks. Senatorial elections. Congresional elections. More than that.

I have a better analysis track record than some of the multidecade analysts sitting in the fucking NSA.

No I am not shitting you. No I am not exaggerating.

It's about the only claim to fame I get to legitimately make.

People ask me, "then why aren't you famous?"

How do you know I'm not.

Look I'm gonna tell you my actual name.
My real name is Lawrence B. Lindsey

Okay, I'm bullshitting for fun. But words I have written on alt twitter accounts have legitimately come out of presidential hopeful's mouths. No, this I am *not* bullshitting you about.

Imagine that. A guy who lived in his parents attic for five years, writing words that came out of presidential candidates mouths.

At one time I was about as popular and influential as that fuckboy catturd.

yes, really. No I am not fucking joking.

Under normal conditions I wouldn't talk about this or reveal it, because who the fuck cares? I'm just some dude on the internet, drunk, both on alcohol, and the pseudo-anonymous equivalent of bragging rights.

You know how many women I turned down because I could? You know how fucking drunk I am? They say a drunk man's words are a sober man's thoughts. Well, I'm not usually honest like this because the internet is full of false braggarts, and you tell people the truth and they don't fucking believe you.

I swear, it seems like I made some faustian bargain at some time, and can achieve no fame or lasting wealth in my life--to save my life.

Shit, I was talking to a chinese women who ran a bank in china (yes, really), who advised me to buy into bitcoin early on. Didn't have the money to. Woulda been a fucking millionaire if I did.
*Non-obvious* Ideas that major corporations are now persuing? Yeah those were sitting in my card index since the early 2000s.

I helped two people build and sell businesses. One for me tens of thousands. Another for millions. Yes, really. Got zero, and I mean, *zero* credit for it.

Point is, doesn't matter how famous you are, or coulda been, Doesn't matter the ideas you have, or had.

The world doesn't promote runners-up, or hasbeens, or wannabes, or could-bes.

What matters is execution.

If you're wandering through life, wondering when you're lucky break will be, stop. You have to realize, you make your own luck. Recognize the difference between what you can control, and what you can, and work on promoting your own ideas or business or values, instead of other people's dreams.

And for those wondering, yes I am drunk, and no, I ain't fucking kidding you in anything I wrote here.

The most important lesson I learned is this:
First work on your own success, before you work on the success of others.

p.s.

I give surprisingly good advice for someone who doesn't benchmark well on traditional measures of success. I know, even I was shocked when I looked at the statistics.

I hate being bipolar, its awesome!

I’ve been diagnosed with bipolar disorder type II. The age of “unidentified affective disorder is over”.

!rant

I just saw someone write about how much he hates school and it reminded me of all I am about to say:

I go to a fancy private school in my country full of shitheads and idiots that think that they can rely on their parents money for the rest of their lives, are always concerned about the latest trends (yeezys, dabs, fidget spinners... etc) and it just gets on my nerves as I have to live with all that and have almost no friends since I failed my class two years ago, when I sit in school I can't focus on anything the teacher says which in turn contributes to my shit grades and there is nothing I can do about it. I have been diagnosed with persistent depresseive disorderand bouts of major depression and my mom won't accept to give me adequate medication because she says(although this is not always the case) that antidepressants can trigger the bipolar disorder that runs in my family, and on top of all this shit, ever since I was 7 I have been raised by my single mother after my father died (I never tell people that my father is dead usually because I hate the look of pity I get coming out of their faces) and my mother has been screwed over for all her life because she can't make a good decision or call bullshit even if you put a gun to her head.

And what I hate most about all that is that I have no one to talk to because my mom is one of those religious freaks so I can't talk to her about my real deep thoughts, and every psychologist or counselor I have been to has been shit.

And this is just another chronicle of my miserable fucking existence.

Any day when I'm manic. Can work 12 hours without feeling tired. Also, 30% intelligence boost. Feeling like a god. Solving people's problems in minutes left and right.

It's unfortunate it only last a month tops, with the remaining year being deep depression. Matter of fact, I got diagnosed with bipolar type I when my psychiatrist mapped my awards from released products and articles to the timeline, and it resembled a bipolar cycle.

I tried LSD yesterday!

Backstory: I have a weird combo of bipolar type 1 and autism. During the day, my brain works inconsistently. Here how my day usually goes:
09:00. I wake up. Uninterested, cold, masculine. No thoughts in the background. No OCD.
12:00. Brain warms up. Thought process begins. Thoughts are short in their length
14:00. Thoughts start to get longer. Stress starts to accumulate. Background thoughts start, now typically 2–3 at a time.
16:00. Twitching begins. Thought chains are now 5–6 concepts long, one following the other. Perception level rises quickly. I start to feel more feminine. It is in this state that I start to spot imperfections and mistakes looking at code or text without reading it. I see it like a painting, and mistakes appear as “visually wrong” parts. This does not depend on formatting.
17:00. OCD becomes more severe. I HAVE to touch all the surfaces around me, evenly, as if my hands were text highlighters, and I had to paint everything evenly, without overlaps or spots that are brighter or darker than the others. Some surface textures become irritating, and feel quite unpleasant to the touch. If I go for a run now, like 3 km or so, I feel somewhat relieved.
18:00. Things are getting serious. Creativity levels through the roof. I speak in long, never-ending, profound sentences. Background and foreground thoughts almost become one. I appear visually drunk and happy, despite never drinking alcohol. Femininity rises even further. Sometimes, when I speak to a small group of people, especially if I go with friends to meet new people, and we go to some bar, new people ask to record my voice or to write down whatever I’m saying. To be honest, this reason alone is a huge boost to how I see yourself.
19:00. OCD is crazy now. Surfaces have soul.
21:00 <— Gotta take my meds and go to sleep here to prevent what comes at 22:00
22:00. All thoughts, both foreground and background, fully became one. Now my brain officially disobeys me and thinks on its own, and I can ride it like a surfer at best. Twitching becomes concerning. I develop a 1000-yard stare. I am officially a female. Physical strength is somewhat enhanced. Pain tolerance lowered significantly.
23:00. Derealization begins. The world around me appears two-dimensional and flat, like a picture. It is hard to get home on foot, even in close (less than one km) proximity. Brain is fully numb. All that thought monstrosity that was building up is just noise now. Zero “flops” available to think about something I want to think about, like how much money I have on me or what time it is.

I go to sleep. I see nightmares. I wake up, and the cycle repeats.

Contrary to a popular opinion, I never take any “brain-boosting” meds like antidepressants, and I think now you can see why. I consume neither alcohol nor caffeine. Neither me, nor my doctors want my brain to explode. I only take lamotrigine that helps to “lower down” mania, and quetiapine, a neuroleptic, that slows down my brain, like a neuroleptic. Both are there to slow down my brain, to kinda “throttle” my brain like a CPU to cool it down.

That said, 100ug of LSD just… brought me my usual 18:00 state, but in the morning?

All that small-dose recreational ordeal? The thing that helps people feel more energetic and creative?

People pay money… for that? To feel the way I feel every evening?

If you think the whole world has gone crazy remember this: The Earth is technically bipolar.

Today my therapist suggested I work towards one day getting back the will and energy to start coding side projects, just for the fun of it.

That was a long, long time since I had the ability to do. Maybe I can get back to feeling that much in control that I can let work go for a day or two each week and just... Have fun coding. What a mind-boggling thought.

I have this friend of mine, he was a former course mate and we can call him J.
J called a week ago saying he wanted to come stay with me for a few days and I said no problem buddy come home I'm always around.

When he came around he sounded quite different than the J I used to know. The first thing he said when I opened the door for him was "Do you know God?" and I was like "Hunh... Is that the latest javascript framework?". With my reply I was expecting laughter as a response but seems like buddy is serious.

J: Are you ashamed of him?
Me: What's up man? Jesus ain't coming anytime soon *still joking*.
J: Yes, he is. And we...
Me: Okay. Cut the crap man.

That night was quite long as we argued religious stuff front, back and center. I asked him why he became so religious but his response wasn't really clear. What I could sense from the discussion was "he's in it for the money" because while we were arguing he mentioned that God spoke to him that he would own a Mercedes Benz this year, so for that he created a WhatsApp group luring people to join to receive gospel messages and in turn ask them to sow seeds and make offerings all in the name of God. I was both pissed and perplexed by such an act of selfishness. Why don't you just get a real job, I asked J, and he said the jobs he could find doesn't match his taste :/

The religious argument continued to day 3 and I wasn't feeling it because it has affected my work as I couldn't even concentrate on most task that was supposed to be completed that week. I called him the next day and told him he shouldn't come to my place if he won't boycott the religious arguments we normally have at night because those are my working hours and the arguments wasn't helping matters. I ended the call when I got no response.

Throughout the rest of that day I felt guilt for what I had said to him, maybe there would have been a better way of putting out my reasons to him or atleast allow him arrive home before telling him what I just told him. I felt really bad that night, so the next day I tried to reach so he could come around when he's available but his line wasn't going through.

Few hours later I got a call from another friend we can call E.
--- E: Hey, have you seen J lately.
Me: Yes, he has been with me for few days now.
--- E: Is he there now.
-- Me: No he's not.
--- E: I need to let you know what's up. J isn't feeling okay. He has been with me for quite a while but recently this year he started acting strange. I think he has some mental issues.
-- Me: Mental what?
--- E: Yes. One time he pulled of his shirt running towards the street. I asked him where he was going and he said "they're calling me... they're calling me".
-- Me: That must be serious, I never paid attention I just noticed he was acting too religious.
--- E: Yes man. It took some time before I myself realised what was going on.
--- Me: So what do we do?
--- E: I've spoken to his brother and we also informed the police he was missing, I never knew he was with you.
--- Me: I'll try reaching out if I find him I'll get in touch.
--- E: Okay.

Hanging up the phone, I have never felt so broken in my entire life. All through those time I was arguing with someone in need of help.
How could I not have known. I'm stupid... I'm stupid... I'm stupid! I kept stumping my palm on my head. Shame unto me.
There were moments in our arguments with signs of clear red flags, some things he said wasn't just right but I ignored just to win the arguments. At one point he claimed he was God, at another point he said he doesn't need to work to become rich that money will visit him, he said some really bizarre things if I was observant enough I would have noticed but fuck me I didn't.

Next day, I got a call that he has been found and has been taken to a psychiatric hospital. He was suffering from bipolar disorder. When I got there, he no longer recognises me. This was the same person we both argued few nights ago.
This short experience was devastating for me. I cried like a baby right there in room filled with his family and some other friends.

No one knew why I was crying, it was just me and my guilty conscience. This would have been prevented atleast a little if I had acted differently. I can't hug him now... It's of no use. I can't tell him how great a friend he is and and how much he deserves the world now because it would be useless.

I pray day and night that he gets well soon and I could tell him how sorry I am for not realising he had a condition unknown to me.
I get to visit him twice a week and hope he gets back to the J I've always known, my buddy for life 💑

For anyone reading this:
Sometimes the people around you might look okay from the outside but I promise you there is a lot going in on the inside. Show love to whoever call you their friend and also don't take arguments personally (I failed this test), some people uses arguments to validate theirselves and some might not be as sane as you think.
#ListenMoreSayLess

I saw a genie once.

So it was like 1 am, me and my girlfriend back then was wandering around the street. We haven’t slept for like two days. It was also a time when she started showing signs of being bipolar and my manic episodes started. So we wasn’t exactly in a good shape, everything felt surreal.

To add absurdity I was holding a pair of scissors (I don’t remember how I got them in the middle of the street) ready to fight back night gopniks.

We went underground and we saw this: there was a hobo standing on a chair and singing. He was really good at it, all opera level stuff with tremolo and everything. The other hobos was standing around him looking and listening. They all completely ignored our presence.

Between two pillars lied the other hobo. He was covered in some dark-looking liquid. Around him was a really huge bottle, so huge in fact that he could probably fit in. I guess they use those kind of bottles in bars or something.

I have no other explanation that he was a genie that was living in that bottle before and granted that singing hobo three wishes: brilliant singing voice (he could probably be a guy who always wanted to sing but had no talent and so he started drinking and became a hobo eventually), an audience that understands and appreciates (the other hobos) and a final wish, just to drink together and have a great conversation.

It's made it possible for me to be self-employed and work from home, which for an introvert with bipolar disorder is the difference between working for a living or being on disability.

Guys I think I might have adhd and I might be bipolar. Except I have brown parents that aren’t very understanding

Me, or everybody else.
I have bipolar disorder, it’s not entirely a bad thing because sometimes my mind flies and bizarre ideas just flush into my mind, ideas that eventually prove to be useful. However, not everyone can catch up my thinking speed.
This year for my senior capstone project, I teamed up with other three brilliant students. In the middle of the project I proposed a very aggressive method when our initial model failed, but they couldn’t understand my method. Towards the end of the semester I basically finished the project alone and claimed that they were just repeating what I was doing, and they didn’t realize that until the last week. At the end, the guy who’s always in charge of the other two people said that I was right, that the very aggressive method could have worked if given them more time to think about it.
I am both relieved and sorry at that moment. I cannot explain my ideas and that leads to my teams confusion.
I am still the same guy now, haven’t changed, will still be a pain in the ass when work with other people, I tried to be patient, but idk if it was just me being too impatient or others are too dumb.
I really tried......

You picked: bipolar
You picked: autism
It's super effective!
Achievement unlocked: glass cannon

The main reason I moved from Linux to macOS was that I grew up. If we count not just Linux experiments but prolonged usage, I was an avid Crunchbang fan. After it died, I moved to elementaryos.

What I want to say is, Linux can be very fun and educational when you're still in the uni. You have all the energy in the world, and you can afford to diverge from your daily routine for an hour to debug GPU drivers.
Now, the backbone of my life is keeping a very tight sleep schedule, taking meds on time, avoid infohazards, avoid scrolling on the web, all to remain in a very fragile state of balance that keeps the bipolar disorder away. I'm in the middle of all this, earning derealization (yes, I'm also autistic) every time I design a data model. All I want from my computer is to be treated like a careless, regular user, not like someone with a CS degree.

I use Sublime Merge instead of command line Git. I use Postico to explore PostgreSQL databases, not psql from my terminal. By the way, my terminal is not iTerm, Alacritty or some other such thing, my terminal is whatever came with my Mac, with whatever default settings.

Linux is crawling into a non-street-legal racecar's cockpit and strapping yourself in, ready to blast off. MacOS is your chauffeur, holding your old shaking hand as he helps you into your Maybach's backseat. They're different, and that's okay.
Can Maybach race? Well, it has a 621 HP V12, so if _you_ can race, it probably can too, but we all know it's not a racecar.

Windows? Windows is an SS officer, wearing the all too familiar Windows logo for swastika, throwing you into a gaswagen.

Yesterday I was doing amazing coding, making big things happen, today I'm explaining how the internet works so a customer who doesn't care this job is so bipolar.

My biggest dream is moving to Europe. Obviously a rich, westernized country.

I have Bipolar type I (the most severe one), ADHD & Autism combo. Initially, getting diagnosed with bipolar and getting treatment was LIFE-CHANGING. I cannot overstate this. We're talking body weight, relationships, job, position, salary, life insights, political orientation, personal projects and their success.
I live in a very small, relatively poor Eastern country now. I fled Russia for it. The medications I need aren't available here. More than that, some of them are illegal, so importing them is out of question.
Getting the meds I need will definitely change my entire life. It will change everything. I will also be able to start my gender transition without the risk of being beaten up on the street. The only thing I need is some kind of visa.

If comparisons make you feel better, and you live in a rich western country, just remember that there are people that will do anything to get to a similar position as you.

Another one of those success messages, that looks like an error message. feat. MySQL Workbench

dealing with a crippling realization that my depressed brain is a pale shadow of former myself before bipolar, but getting lost in a contradiction posed by the fact that I have more experience and clearer vision now, not being able to decide what's better and who I'd rather be

Sometimes I find bipolar code in production code....

I am honestly flattered by the fact that @scor really, unironically thinks that “by the frequency and varsity and depth you post and comment and self imaging”, I can't be a single person, and there is a whole TEAM behind me!

Honestly, I don't care about insults. Neither yours, nor of that schmuck that is salty because he posted some stupid misogynic shit a while ago, I reposted it as a screenshot, and he was obliterated by the community.

I'm only posting this because people out there legitimately think I'm a hive mind. It's not every day that you're told whatever you do cannot be done by one person. To me, this is more of a compliment.

Looking past devRant, I would like to meet @scor and other haters IRL. I have no hard feelings. I'm just an autistic person with bipolar disorder. I post whatever I want, as it's somewhat therapeutic.

You don't have to acknowledge it, but here's an honest, personal message: if you at any point compare yourself to me and lose, remember, my personality and creativity is a negligent, slight payoff for a literal hell that is a mental disorder. My thoughts are thinking themselves. I can't control them. My body is twitching constantly. I'm both actively anxious and always tired. My intellect suffers a massive penalty in a depressive phase, like now.

Finding at least some positive side to that hellscape is absolutely vital, and any person with a disorder can tell you that.

The fact that I'm social, I have friends and a job is a miracle. I'm privileged. I've seen a lot of people less lucky than me. They weren't able to monetize their troubled, sharp brain. I was.

Recep Tayyip Erdogan had a problem — after his army service, he got so used to cold that he could only sleep on a raw, cold metal grill. Usually, normal people put mattress on top, but Erdogan didn’t feel right this way. So, in one of his personal prisons, he established a social project for making a full metal bed for himself.

For starters, to calculate the shape, he took the smallest man ever (3 inches high) with his fingers and sunk him into molten plastic. “What are you doing?! It hurts!” — man screamed. “Shut up. You’re on an important mission. Your motherland won’t forget you.”
After three months, the bed was ready. It was more of the same — metal bars, but this time with some kind of structure built of metal hinges, rebar and strong springs. This was the day — this was the big reveal event. It took place in the same prison — three prisoners were ready to lay on their new full metal beds, while news crews congratulated Erdogan and celebrated his greatness. “Well, it is time!” — he said.
Prisoners laid flat. An awful screeching sound. Prisoner number two is bleeding out. The spring mechanism broke out and impaled his chest onto a large metal bar. He’s not breathing.
“Shut it down. Shut it all down. No more cameras, no more news”, — said Erdogan.
“Yes, our master”, — said news crews.

They wanted to draft me to Afghanistan.
“No!”, — a young officer shouted, misgendering me — “He doesn’t know the stages of pain. Useless.”
“Are you perhaps arguing pain with a bipolar patient?” — I replied.
“You are a rave. Nothing but a rave.”

Raves spawned near your doors at night. Sometimes, they even spawned on the inside. I can’t say you were in danger, but it certainly wasn’t a pleasant thing to happen to anyone. They looked ugly. They dressed weird. They spoke in riddles.
“How do I move to Europe?”, — a rave asked.
“I…”
“Shut up!”
Rave took a door, suspiciously painted over and over multiple times, and started to slam my door with it, using it as a ram.
My door started giving in.

Alarm system.
On a separate note, to disable the alarm system, you have to speedrun Stanley Parable. It’s the hardest speedrun ever, specifically its hidden ending. It disables all alarm systems in three-mile radius IRL. No one knows how it works, but it does. Back to the danger zone!

“The better quality time you spend sitting on your toilet, the more you’ll live.”, — an officer said.
“I once had a girl blow me while I was shitting,” — Matthias replied — “You have nothing on me.”
“Fair enough!”

It is a little known fact, but the liquid that Northern cities use to clean up snow isn’t quite what it seems like. It’s not salt — in reality, there are bases on Mars, and they store pink goo that… “iMpRoVeS” dead bodies. The liquid is biological in nature, and it expires. Expired liquid is recycled as snow melter. You learn that in high school, but now, living on a train, you should know that there are special learning rooms here, in every. single. carriage. The small gym ball with two handles on its sides is called Gandhi ball. Fun fact: if you wear headless Segways on top of your shoes, and then lay flat holding a Gandhi ball, you can reach the speed of 270 kph!

Today’s news: a Reddit moderator and a legless woman gave birth to a living sex toy for their domestic boar.

If you ever stop to think:
"Why does the world experience turmoil from time to time?"
You have to stop and realize that the Earth itself is bipolar.

The life of a normal person is like waking up every day with a zero on the scale of suffering. You did something good — here are -20 points to that scale. Something bad happened — well, here are +10 points. Being a bipolar person, my life is like beginning every day with +500 suffer points. Every day is a devastating uphill battle to just break even.

Why live then?

You can't win. If you have a healthy sleep schedule, do sports and eat healthy, it's still +500 every day. One mistake like fucking up your sleep schedule — boom, you now start at +700.

In Japan, a new breakthrough in psychiatry is happening as they were able to tie bipolar disorder to a HHV6 herpesvirus messing up the operation of Parkinje cells in human brain, unreachable to the immune system because of blood-brain barrier. A nasal spray treatment is proposed. If successful, bipolar disorder could be cured forever.

Until an actual nasal spray is released, I decided to wait because it's a huge bummer killing myself only some three years before this breakthrough.

But if their experiments will never come to fruition and my conventional therapy will not be successful, I will kill myself.

I don't want to live like this.

Brain of a normal person is like an SUV — versatile, robust, occasionally kinda fast, needs minimal maintenance.

Brain of a bipolar person is like a supercar — needs a lot of maintenance, can't go off-road, can only drive on a perfect track without destroying itself, only takes special, expensive kind of fuel, can't drive in the winter.

Yes, you boubas can perform better when I'm depressed. But when I'm manic, your skill and your experience don't matter. I'm gonna tear you apart. I'm not gonna take your job — I'll take your bosses and will replace you with a script I wrote in 20 minutes. I'll again spend three hours and take Product of the Day. I'll again take the CTO job without even applying.

Mania is like taking quad damage AND god mode.

But in two weeks, I'll be depressed again. sleeping for 13 hours and not able to work.

Too bad mania is temporary, but achievements are forever. Good luck

Idk if it's mdd or bipolar, either way I have no way out of it's blackhole of sadness.

Depression is not a passive sorrow and lack of energy. My depression, being bipolar type I, is active, furious, burning pain within. My heart is pounding, and it hurts. The strong, blunt guilt for nothing I did in particular, and then the anxiety that is all around and over my view, reminiscent of how mould grows on a slice of bread.

It never stops.

Video game. Nothing but a final boss fight right from the start. Boss has infinite health. There is no time limit. If you die in the game, you die in real life.

That's what it's like to live with bipolar disorder.

For the love of god PLEASE keep yourself away from emotional stress and trauma.

The bipolar nature of leading a startup tech team:

It's either no one needs you, or the problem is big enough to have you push 5 fundamental fixes from abyss to upstream.

When my brain was overloaded and overwhelmed during rapid-cycling bipolar disorder, my life and my thoughts were a complete mess. Somehow, when I heard or imagined plurals of certain words, like "cans" or "cups", my brain painted pictures of a cute civilization of living soda cans. They fought oppression that came from us humans, but lacked mental capacity to do so. I felt really sorry for them and wanted to help. The more ordinary the word were, the more striking effect it had on me.

The rapid-cycling fashion of bipolar disorder is often triggered by unfit prescription medicines. This kind of disorder is among the most lethal mental disorders there are, with a huge percentage of patients committing suicide.

If you can't make sense of your thoughts, if your emotional responses seem inadequate or too strong, to the point when you can collapse crying after some random thought, stop whatever you're doing and seek help. Ask friends and family to find you a psychiatrist, as by the time you need help, you may lack mental capacity or emotional resource to find a doctor by yourself. To me, even the idea of leaving my bedroom and going somewhere was painful to think about.

If your thoughts appear to be "put into your brain" against your own will, if they make no sense, don't attempt to make sense of them. They are nothing but a random noise produced by overwhelmed synapses.

One week worth of pills for me as a Bipolar-I + Autism + ADHD patient. I have to take them all just to stay sane, productive and anxiety-free, at least partially. Here’s what’s here:
- Hydroxysine — a non-benzo (read not addictive) anti-anxiety pill
- Quetiapine + Lamotrigine — the number one anti-bipolar combo
- Atomoxetine — a non-amphetamine anti-ADHD pill
- Fluvoxamine — an antidepressant with anti-anxiety side effects

I’m gonna stop working on my website.
Been working on it for two weeks, probably because of bipolar and I was full of ideas.
I feel so tired now.

Shit!!!!
Worst question I have seen around here.
I only had, at the moment, 3:
The first one was... unsignificant. Never learn anything important/relevant from him.

The second one didn't payed me for three months. I had to quit.
Still waiting for him to pay....... just being ironic his not going to pay.

The third one is bipolar and... well I already had stories shared here...so you can have a look.

I could say that I had another one. Is was my Father... best man in the world. My hereo. Learn the best things with him: Honesty, loyalty and Hardwork.

Sorry from any kind of mistakes on my writting. Long day and long night.

Is any of it real? I mean, look at this. Look at it! A world built on fantasy. Synthetic emotions in the form of pills. Psychological warfare in the form of advertising. Mind-altering chemicals in the form of... food! Brainwashing seminars in the form of media. Controlled isolated bubbles in the form of social networks. Real? You want to talk about reality? We haven't lived in anything remotely close to it since the turn of the century. We turned it off, took out the batteries, snacked on a bag of GMOs while we tossed the remnants in the ever-expanding Dumpster of the human condition. We live in branded houses trademarked by corporations built on bipolar numbers jumping up and down on digital displays, hypnotizing us into the biggest slumber mankind has ever seen. You have to dig pretty deep, kiddo, before you can find anything real. We live in a kingdom of bullshit. A kingdom you've lived in for far too long. So don't tell me about not being real. I'm no less real than the fucking beef patty in your Big Mac.

So this is a long, time sickness i have with the way we are brought up and being counseled in mental ilness. I feel like because i have bipolar disorder, and combat PTSD people are unaware of how debilitating it is to live like this, they just hear the symptoms and have no idea what its like to live with it. So like my wife and parents they are so ignorant to it that its insulting.. Im not toootin my own horn, but from 21-32 i have dont nothing but kill myself in every way i can. or jump headfiurst into addictions just to stop the dark times. I married a women thats become the worst person who has ever crossed my path. I need a helping hand sometimes to keep it together from people that shouldnt ever feel bothered but being honest with them is dissapointing..

maybe I've changed

I'd get jump scared from suddenly barking dogs trying to bite me...

Today I got surprised

Surprised by the fact that what I felt this time wasn't fear.

I felt hate, hatred so vile and bloodthirsty it instantly triggered a bug-eyed kobenz, murderously eyeballing the mutt

for the first time in my life a dog owner pulled back the leash and scolded their hellspawn

Cats are so much nicer

---
I hadn't, yet, taken my adhd meds thou, so maybe that's what bipolar BPD people do because now I'm actually surprised with my reaction

Heres a truly vitrolic and unnecessary rant:
Package control for sublime is all well and good
through the command palette, but it's just
fucking retarded. How about you point me to a
FUCKING COMMAND to actually INSTALL A
MOTHERFUCKING PACKAGE YOU
FINGERPAINTING FUCKWITS?

Under babel plugin while browsing packages
on packagecontrol.io:
"Find it as Babel through Package Control."

FUCKING HOW?

What command?

What fucking command? How do I "Find" it?
The browse command just opens my
motherfucking browser. How do I fucking install
your fucking packages you assholes?
"Use autocomplete" except your god damn
autocomplete doesn't list "install package"
for some god damn reason because everything
web is a broken pile of utter shit, built
on a more shit, like a leaning garbage tower
of bullshit waiting for the smallest mistake to
take down the entire house of cards like
someone removing a leftpad on npm.

Maybe specify I have to enter
"install package" and THEN hit enter, and THEN
enter the GOD DAMN MOTHERFUCKING package name
on a separate god damn line for
some fucky reason.

Next time don't make a tool that breaks
motherfucking conventions. It's bad enough
every fucking look-at-me-im-smart cunt of a
dev and their dog has to invent a CLI and
then go and invent a new domain specific
language too motherfuckers.

Next tool that breaks convention around me is
gonna see the dev lit on fire.
fucking uppity cunts.

"Say thanks" the site say. I am not
feeling fucking thankful at the moment.

The least you can do if you're going to
contribute to open source, is not make things
actively fucking worse, least of all in the
fucking *documentation*.

FUCK count for this rant: 19 / 50,
RANK: RUSH HOUR TRAFFIC

0-5: GENTLE AS A LAMB
6-10: ANGRY GOAT
11-15: NUN WITH PMS
16-20: RUSH HOUR TRAFFIC
21-25: CANTANKEROUS VIETNAM VET
26-30: BREAKING SHIT
31-35: DOMESTIC DISTURBANCE
36-40: BIPOLAR EPISODE
41-45: DESPAIR EVENT HORIZON
46-50: BROKEN CAPSLOCK

50+ : MIDLIFE CRISIS / MASTER GRAND WIZARD
OF RANTS AND ANGRY-WORD MASTURBATION.

If you prefer to cheat, you may also include any
cursewords in general, but be warned, you'll
never know the sweet taste of victory when you
achieve the rank of master grand wizard.
Like when you were a kid, and you discovered
gameshark, and all your hopes of finishing that
one game became but a ruthlessly hollowed out
husk, somewhere where could-have-been childhood
memories and nostalgia go to die like the
graveyard of dreams
(the same place officer workers souls go).

I forgot every thing and watch funny YouTube videos! And in between watching them I blame myself get depressed get angry!
I think I might be bipolar! 🤔🤣😀😂☹️