I have deemed it so that I’ve had enough time to bellyache about stuff. So I’m gonna do a topic not otherwise specified, bounce subject to subject and let the emotional gamut run. Even if it dares to go to that place where people puke rainbows. Unlikely but it could happen. Pegacorns.
Some of my happiest moments, and by happy, I mean calm and content, are when I am home, in my bubble, not feeling threatened and panic stricken. It’s not avoidance so much as it is survival instinct. If you are feeling raw and fragile, the worst thing you can do is place yourself in a situation that will exploit this.
I have to go get my kid from school in about an hour. After a relatively peaceful morning, I am filled with dread to go back into the petri dish and risk an adverse reaction. And I never know how combative and defiant she is going to be so that’s always a wild card.
I am watching a law show in which the defense attorney said, “Lawyers purposely seek out the weak ones with mental illness because they know those types can be manipulated.”
I don’t see having mental illness as weakness. If anything, if you manage to live with mental illness, you’re an example of strength. Too many have taken their own lives because it got to be too much. Those of us who keep going, even when we’re fragile and beaten down and emotionally raw…That’s strength. Shame people aren’t intelligent to see that.
I didn’t remember how loud kittens are. Absinthe is a crier. Loud and incessantly so. Her brother, not so much. I know they need time to adapt to the change of home but wow…My sensitivity to noise is unbelievably delicate.
I bought a new soda today. Lebron’s Blend Sprite. I didn’t taste any cherry but the lemon lime and orange were there. I drank half, gave half to my kid.
My sister called me at the store freaking out about whether the new kittens are eating, did I need to bring them by to nurse. I’ve been raising cats since I was 5, it’s what I do (as well as being midwife to dozens of mama cats too lazy to cut the cords.) I can’t believe my sister thinks I’d let them starve. Of course, I introduced them to solid foods. Even some canned stuff with chicken and gravy. And there’s that whole thing where I’ve kept a kid alive for almost six years. Jebus, sis, get a grip.
When I stopped for milk (I actually got it right and bought white milk) the cashier manager lady said, “On the run again?” People think I am super busy and rushed but truth is, I’m just limiting my dish exposure by doing things quickly. I don’t fuck around in the dish, it’s bad for my mental health. Maybe as bad as Latuda.
It’s not a constant thing, but it is common. I break out in hives at random intervals because I am anxious. That’s what the second trip into the dish did to me.
Upon my return today after fetching the spawn, Absinthe came waddling to the door fast as she could as if I’d been gone for hours. Kittens crack me up. Proves she’s already adopted me as her human. Her brother just likes my chair.
When I talked to my sister about taking the kittens, I told her I wanted a girl and a boy, one calico, one black and white. And she says, “Well, you probably don’t want the runt black and white one…” WRONG. He was one of six, he obviously just didn’t get as much as his siblings, there is nothing wrong with him. I always pick the ones who are somehow “less healthy”. The undercat, as it were.
Not a fan of the show, but some female politician tweeted that she will never again watch Game Of Thrones because of some rape scene in the last episode. Um…Grow up because this shit’s been happening for years? I suppose I’m a hypocrite because I swore off anything with Tom Cruise in it after his “mental illness is imaginary but I pray to an alien clam” spiel. Then again, I never much liked him to begin with. He did make an awesome LeStat but I’m fairly sure little acting was involved, he just happens to be a douchebag like the character.
It’s terrifying to see how many hoops adoptive parents have to jump through to get a kid. But if your uterus can serve its purpose, pretty much any asshole can have a kid. Which is good for me, considering how bad a housekeeper I am, and how my mental state bobbleheads. Jebus, adoptive parents have to be pretty much sainted. Not saying protecting kids is a bad thing, but kids do NOT need that level of perfection to be cared for and loved.
Contact with other persons has proven to be…challenging. Not because I am volatile today but because I am DEAD inside today. My affect is apathetic, numb, fake, forced. R called and I barely felt a thing when he critiqued me for not checking his email. (Cos that’s totally my responsibility, wtf.) My dad and stepmonster stopped by to feed scraps to my oudoor stray cats and it was all I could do to feign interest and plaster on a fake smile. I almost feel…disconnected. Yet I know it can swing to another extreme in the blink of an eye. This is a tightrope act I do not like at all.
My head is hurting. The sunlight is like slivers of glass being poked into my brain. I don’t like it. Tylenol is doing fuck all, I think it may be one of those light sensivity migraines which requires me to take shelter in a dark, quiet room. Those are not my favorite and I swear it was the light that started it in the first place. Of course, the doctors claim this is just some goth affectation, like having a headache is pleasant enough to be stylist, ffs. Not to mention, I am not goth, I just like gothy stuff. That this is considered some sort of personality flaw and mental health issue is insulting. Jebus, put a dimmer switch on the fecking sun.
Early school dismissal makes the day seem neverending. My god, it’s not even 5 pm yet and I am ready for my crypt. All this sunlight and noise and activity around me with people out and about and kids yelling and cars…UGH. It’s just too much stimulation.
Why is it when you make a choice that has a bad outcome, you are told to “learn from the mistake.” Yet if you do something repeatedly in an effort to “be open” only to learn it never works out…Then you’re just giving up and letting a bad experience hold you back. What the actual fuck is that? Life presents is with one catch 22 after another, you can never do the right thing.
Raised by wolves…Dad and stepmonster gave Spook this puppy purse when they popped by and already one of her little friends is trying to blackmail her: “Give it to me or I won’t be your friend.” My kid is a terror but she has basic manners, ffs. These friends of hers are little monsters and their parents just let them be.
Not even 6″30 pm and I am ready for bed, or at least my crypt. Unless things change with my mental status very soon, it is going to be a very long and grueling summer from hell. Why can’t I just snap out of it? I WANT to. But it’s not happening. Because that’s not how this mental illness shit works. But even I wish it did.