Yesterday, without leaving the lot except for spawn valet service, I became a whirlwind of activity. I swear just giving myself permission to say “fuck it” actually enables me to be semi functional. But yesterday was, wow. I stuck to my bedroom but after a year of letting it gather dust and stuff pile up, I started dusting and cleaning and organizing. I didn’t go near the closet of doom but…I felt good about what I accomplished. My masterpiece, which is my tradition four years running now, is my Halloween window. I haven’t even started on the outdoors yet but this one I am famous for. Luckily no one has had a wreck coming around the corner and spotting it.
Mr. Vorhees is my friend. Best Halloween investment ever, four years ago. Just wish I’d gotten the Freddy Krueger, too, cos they’ve never had him back in since. Oh, well. Jason will have to suffice. I have Freddy as a candy dish that bites when you reach for something.
So how I was saying yesterday I managed to find a pair of pants without holes? Um, yeah. I later noticed the seam at the butt was splitting. Guess I’ve gained some weight. (MEDS, every time, I don’t care what the docs say, I am heavier now than when I was nine months pregnant, only difference is…MEDS.) So my joy of pants without holes was severely crushed.
Oddly it was a tranquil day in all, even got through the school pick up relatively unscathed and handled the yappy spawn without spazzing. Took a Restoril around 8:30 cos in spite of shark week soon ending, my back was slaying me and I couldn’t get comfortable, just wanted sleep. I was awake until almost midnight waiting for the shit to kick in. Useless. Yet if I took it during the day as a secondary benzo for anxiety, I would no doubt fall asleep standing up. Fuckity fuck fuck fuck.
My mind is swirling with what I need to do, none of it pertaining to folded Mt Vesuvius or washing dishes. I wanna decorate for Halloween. Of course, my enthusiasm for that was dampened by an 8 am text from R, asking me to pop by “for a bit”. I don’t know what “for a bit” means but if you wait until the last second, like I couldn’t possibly have plans except to wait for you to beckon, you’ll be lucky if I pop in before 1 p.m. Ass trash. Now I feel like I can’t enjoy decorating cos I am beholden to him and I probably won’t even get a pack of smokes for my aggravation. But I gotta stock up brownie points cos it doesn’t look like the landlord is gonna fix my ductwork so I am gonna have to do some major league sucking up and see if R will crawl under there and do it.
Spook brought home blue yesterday. For talking. Mom and I promised her a sleepover there if she could get green or above for five straight days. She made it two. Honestly, I don’t know why it is so hard to stop talking. I hate talking most of the time, which is why I love on line communication. No noise. No trying to remember what was said ten seconds ago. Time to form a coherent response.
I am of course a hypocrite because my friend Kristel and I spent much of Kindergarten at the “quiet table” for talking. Thing is, Spook has always been a chatty Kathy doll and yet, it was never reported as a problem in pre K or Kindergarten. They said she was quiet. I was like, you have the right kid??> Now she won’t shut up to even get a reward. Kid muzzles should be legal, I am telling you.
All in all…my mood is neither up nor down, my anxiety is manageable, and I am on occasion able to work start/stop mode to accomplish little things here and there. It’s something, after the year I’ve had. This allergy coughing, gagging, and draining is bringing me down, and I can’t afford the non drowsy Claritin, can’t take sleep inducing Benadryl with the spawn loose…So I suffer.
Back to watching Blindspot. First episode blew me away. Now it’s like meh. But that could well be my focus, it is such shit. Starting to think the low dose Focalin ain’t do shit anymore. I used to read a book in a day and a half. Last book took me a month to read. Irritating. Bipolar functionality…baffling.
So…soon I am gonna do a very shallow post ala Facebook and post pictures of my Halloween decor and probably my cats and my skull jacket and boots and…But hey, some may consider it a break from my prattling about bipolar constantly.
It’s not who I am, but I’ll be damned if every time I forget I am bipolar, some symptom pops up to bitch slap me. Mindfulness. I live in the here and now. Here and now means…bipolar can bite me on the ass at any given time.
Thankfully, I’ll be getting a few weeks of ghoul therapy. I just pray to the sacred pegacorn I can enjoy it.