Well…I just finished hiding the eggs for my kid to hunt in the morning. Kinda hard finding places to put them where the cats won’t go batting them around like toys. Ugh. My head hurts. We are an hour post hell spawn tantrum and I am just…exhausted.
68 minutes. That’s how long the tantrum lasted. I know because I recorded audio the entire time. From the moment I told her it’s 7 p.m., time to come inside and stop playing with your friends for the day…Off to the psych races she went. Screaming, growling, hissing, clawing (she took some skin off my hand). I put her in her room, she beat against the door claiming I’d locked her inside. I had not. I wish I could but not lock…She went insane. I tried everything. A swat on the butt. Talking calmly. Holding her so she couldn’t thrash, as I was taught when I worked daycare. I tried tickling her. Distracting her. Drawing her attention in another direction. She kept carrying on about how she wants sandals. No connecting the dots, she was just feral. I walked away after laying down my edict “play time is over, you will lose privileges every minute this goes on”. She chased me, hit me, punched me, ripped at my shirt and pants. She threw things at me. It was like facing off with a possum. I have the recording to prove it. I am not making shit up. I am not beating this child nor am I screaming at her.
Oppositional defiance, ADHD, baby bipolar, whatever you want to call it…There is a problem here. This is the second mega bout this week. Facing a summer of this every time I try to draw a line on playtime makes me want to lock myself in the looney bin. Because while bipolar gives me a special understanding, patience, and tolerance of those who act, well, looney, even though they are good people…Ugh. NO. I can’t do 68 minute battles every night in which I can’t even escape my kid because her friends tore one of the doors off my bedroom and there’s a curtain there, I literally cannot lock her out of my room.
The good thing is…once I finally got her to calm down…She was recalcitrant and suddenly I wasn’t mean or stupid anymore, she just wanted me to feed her and tuck her in.
And as exhausting and grueling as the 68 minutes was…I have to understand. Because I see my bipolar bouts in her behavior. I am not labeling her with my disorder. I am just saying…I don’t see a bad kid in her. I see something off kilter and she acts badly, but I can’t hold it against her and dismiss her. No. Too many have done that to me during epic manic bouts when I went aggro. It’s frustrating, a little scary, but I HAVE to be understanding without condoning. Because…Bipolar. I’m not always a good person. I have adult tantrums, though not as much with the mood stabilizers. No, the worst of it is in the past but I never forget it. I feel shame, remorse, unworthy of being forgiven for all those episodes…even if I couldn’t operate on logic due to a bipolar shift and a bad doctor giving me a wrong diagnosis and wrong meds.
My kid lucked out with me for a mom in this capacity. I won’t absolve her of poor choices but I sure as hell will have the intelligence to take into consideration that faulty wiring could be at play. Next doctor appointment, I plan on asking for a referral for her to my psych. Maybe she just needs hardcore counseling, IDK. Of course, her medical care is in limbo while I wait to find out if donor’s insurance is going to allow her onto his policy which means I don’t know if I can use Medicaid for her now or if they will bill me…Fuck.
I am not looking forward to Easter aside from the food. I’m still salty at my mother for her fit about my car the other night. I took her meatloaf Thursday and she snarled, “Did you use onion? It was good but I didn’t taste any onion.” Yeah, well, I don’t use a bag of onions for a meatloaf like her. Just so…fucking rude and ungrateful. And I get to go spend time with her and the rest of my fucked up family and all those bum friends of my sister’s and I have to get up first thing to start cooking my chicken and noodles to take….When I truthfully don’t give a damn. My mom is burning bridges with me that are not going to un burn, ya know. Now that I don’t have to kiss her ass over the whole driving her car/insurance bit…Yeah. I am pretty close to declaring myself an orphan.
I had the displeasure of some Just Energy employee knocking on my door today. Every year some new electric outfit comes around promising lower rates if you switch on the spot. Twice I have done it with other companies, only to find my power bill increase and get threatening letters and calls about early termination of a contract costing X dollars. NOPE. I told this guy I was happy with Direct Energy. He got snotty and pointed out I was being overcharged and ALL my neighbors had switched to his service and received a $25 gift card for doing so. I said, “I’ve been through this every year I’ve been here, I am staying with Direct. I may be getting hosed but at least I know it.”
And this c*nt stomps off like a child having a tantrum and snarks, “You do deserve to be hosed!” And he was even snotty when the kids tried to talk to him about having a party. He said, “OH, well, that’s just great!” with his back to them and kept stomping away.
I was flabbergasted. In fact, I was so pissed at his behavior, I looked up the number for his company, intending to turn him in for his hard sell and rudeness. Of course, no one in a supervisory capacity is there on Saturday. So if I do get a gift card from these fuckers like he claimed should have already been sent, I will be using that number to register one hell of a complaint. I don’t know his name, but I can describe him and they keep track of what employees are walking through which neighborhood. I am gonna hang him by the balls for being such a dick.
The most insulting thing is, I went to their site and they seem to have a good deal. I may have been interested in signing up HAD their employee not been so pushy, rude, and insulting. Just…unfuckingreal. He needs to be fired. My neighbors consist of meth heads, pot heads, gamers, and raise-pitbulls-to-fight types so telling me they all switched was really fucking stupid on his part. The way he behaved, I have to wonder if he got some sort of commission if he could get EVERY house to switch and I hindered his $$$. Fuck him. Hard sells don’t work for me or on me. And frankly, these companies should not be allowed to dispatch people to knock on our doors. Send us information. Let us do our research and make an informed choice. Don’t expect me to hand you my power bill on the spot cos you say to and hand me something to sign. Nope.
On a happier yet…unexpected note…I woke up to Nightshade giving birth in my bed. I didn’t even know she was pregnant. Sigh…I managed to get her into the pet taxi before she had delivered, but still…What a way to wake up. We have three babies. One is black, one is black on top, white one bottom, and the third is mostly white with black markings like a cow. They seem full term, healthy, and thus far Shady is feeding them and being a good mom. She’s had 2 out of 20 kittens survive cos she’s a lousy cat mom so we shall see….
My car still isn’t fixed. Whatever R did last night didn’t make a damn bit of difference. Of course, I think I know what the problem is based on my research and the fact my previous Grand Am had the same problem. MAF sensor gone bad. That would explain the loss of power during acceleration, the poor gas mileage, the gas smell, all of it. Of course, R wants to hook it up to son in law’s little diagnostic code thing but having had the same problem on the same car and finding the fix on line…I don’t think we need the gizmo. Of course, I am just a dumb girl. If I had the damned money and another mechanic, I’d fix it myself. The MAF sensor can be had for $30, swapped in under an hour, but nooo, let’s let Niki drive a death trap while we wait for some piece of shit diagnostic tool to tell us nothing is wrong with the car when there is clearly something wrong with the car.
Yeah. I’ve had 2.0 mg of Xanax today (Spook was playing with her friends for six hours, I earned every mg) and I am still stressing out. That brat talked me into letting them play in her room and she decides while I am in the bathroom…to climb inside the closet to reach for something on the shelf…And she completely caved in the closet bottom. One more thing I am gonna have to figure out how to fix. No more indoor play. She doesn’t do this destructive bit unless they are around. Least not big scale destruction. It’s like she has to go out of her way to impress them with how much she can get away with.
I feel buried alive here. But rather than focus on how that feels, I am gonna turn off my brain, watch some mindless stuff, and try to get to sleep without melatonin. This time change, and all this hot/cold weather has me struggling more than ever to get out of bed in the morning. I am oversleeping every day practically. How the hell does that even work, me becoming less functional in the morning during spring…
On a happier ending note…I attended my first yard sale today for the season. I had some change so I couldn’t get much but I spent fifty cents on a purple glass topper for a jar candle since the cats broke my mosaic one I had. THis one fits and it’s purple glass. It just felt necessary to do something “me”. Trying to find the road back to normal after a nearly two year long depressive bout.
I know one thing for sure. I am doing sooooo much better without Cymblotto. I’ve been in withdrawal for nine days with mega random brain zaps and that woozy head thing but…Oh, that stuff was not just making me more nervous, it was actually dragging my mood down, I swear. I doubt the doctor would validate that but…
Fuck ’em and feed ’em to the fish.
Onto watch a documentary about haunted asylums. Yeah, I’m dark. I have been since I was six, it just fascinates me.
And makes me ever so grateful that the one time I had to be in a psych hospital…it wasn’t one of these snake pits. The haunting actually classes the joints up, they were so bad.