Is that an oxymoron or a contradiction? Riiight, I don’t give a fuck.
This post is once again brought to you by the letters F and U because my Monday is off to a rip roaring start.
Had a rough night, again. Between my hacking and coughing and tossing and turning…Then my kid woke up with her allergies rioting and I had to give her Benadryl and Flonase just so she could breathe again…Another night of maybe three hours sleep. Can’t fathom why I am so fucking grumpy.
R whimpered about needing someone to watch the shop first thing ‘cos he needed to do a favor for a friend. Um…My problem, how? When I tried to explain I felt shitty and had been up most of the night, he played the whiny “you owe me card”.
Ughh. So I showed up in the clothes I slept in. I THINK I brushed my hair but I know I forgot deodorant and to scrape the moss off my fangs. Stellar start to a day. He was gone all of 20 minutes. Then I told him I was leaving and again, it was all about his needs. I left anyway. I feel like crap, my mood is vile, trust me, being away from me is in your best interest.
I woke to a spam comment today that set me off. I mean, “I’m so mad I need to listen to Eminem” off. I will NOT embrace the anxiety. I will not hump its leg even if it buys me dinner. Never mind 98% of the post being commented on was about the depressive episode and my shitty family. GRRRR. You may mean well but you’re either part of the problem or part of the solution. Using my misery to promote your own agenda…Dick move.
Of course, that was two hours ago and now I am just…Ugh. My stomach is in knots, my side hurts from all the coughing, my head is congested, and I still haven’t showered since Thursday. I’ve been binge watching Nurse Jackie (I like her, she’s flawed but ultimately ok) and ignoring the housework and wondering how I can take care of a kid yet can’t even force my own skanky ass into a shower.
Riiight, I am so much better at taking care of others because it was what my parents imprinted on me at age 11 while they worked full time and I raised myself and my kid sister.
I hate being this pissed off.
I hate anything that makes me this pissed off.
And I also hate that most of it is my own damned fault. I latch onto the negative, no matter how many funny positive comments are swapped or left. My brain is evil and the more I try to talk it out of its dysfunction, the more the bipolar reminds me…I’m not in control of this ride. I mean, if any of us were in control of mental illness, the shrinks and pharma companies and therapists would all starve to death.
I need to take a chill pill.
Or have a drink.
For now I shall just breathe and remind myself internet trolls are disgusting little critters and there are good people out there.
And even if you don’t mean to be an internet troll…To quote Eminem…”If I offended you…So what…I still don’t give a fuck.”
I shouldn’t post this. But I will.
And watch my follower number drop.
Maybe it’s okay. Having followers makes me feel like a serial killer.
(I love you guys!)