Stress is like a hissing cobra, poised to strike, 24-7. When you are doing constant battle with the demons known as bipolar and anxiety disorder…That cobra is at your ankles and so close, you can feel its breath on your skin and know any moment the fangs could sink in and poison you to death.
(If you have nightmares due to that image, well, join the club cos after downloading it, I dreamed of cobra attacks last night.)
My mood is holding steady. Which in bipolar terms, means I still have highs and lows, but rather than falling down a whole staircase…I miss a couple of steps. I don’t like it, but I can live with it.
Anxiety, however, heightened by the lottery of life’s shit storms… That threatens to swallow me up whole.
Last week, I had to go to the food pantry because I ran out of fruit and veggies. Not an apple or canned green bean in the cabinet. Not the first time I’ve gone to a food pantry, mind you, but humbling anyway. I thought this child support was supposed to improve our lives. Instead it is a hindrance and I am further behind than I ever was. Fuck a fancy bag of fuck knuckles.
Friday night, texting Chihuahua kept nibbling at my ankles and I sent him a rather forceful reply about how I have a life and if I find the part, I will let him know. Told him to stop being a texting chihuahua cos my ankles hurt. I thought he might take the fucking hint.
Nope. 9:30 that night he called and told me to find a BIOS for this computer he has so he can get a home computer going. I told him I’d look into it. He said, No, get it downloaded and I’ll come right over tonight. ARE YOU FUCKING SERIOUS? I asked to speak to Mrs R and kind of unloaded on her about how he has constantly bugged me and would she just make him go to sleep so my brain can have a break.
Well, shitstorm started. Because I want a day without him gnawing at my ankles, I am ungrateful user. Even though I took a real Saturday then did some of his bidding Sunday. All I got in return was “coolness”. Not thanks for being on top of this, nope. Just…Fuck it. I don’t care anymore.
On the plus side, found out there is nothing wrong with the car heat. Just didn’t realize this Buick requires you to turn the vent on for the blowers to work.
On the “fuck me, are you kidding side…”
That muffler rotted off. Now I am driving this loud ass car and worried I am gonna get a ticket for excessive noise or harmful emissions. And the whole system is going to cost close to two hundred bucks but most of that is labor. My stepmom made it clear they won’t even do the work if I buy the parts. Burned my bridges with R.
I pay for good days either way. Contrary to what the shrinks think, though, it’s not the things going wrong that bring my mood down. It makes me panic, sure, but I’m not in the bathroom drinking bleach and bawling. Life goes on, even if life is being pretty shitty to me.
Stresssss. That constantly poised to strike hissing venomous menace.
Was I so wrong to be so irked with R about him bugging me so late on a Friday night?I mean, it’s not like I am getting paid. I am not on a contract of employment. Frankly, I’ve had less demanding bosses I was under contract to and getting paid for. But really, it was Friday night, my kid was at Grandma’s (I had to send her away just to get a break from all her fucking friend drama) and dad and stepmonster had just come into town to haul away all the broken toys and fans and I just wanted to watch my show and decompress.
But it’s never enough for R. He lives and breathes work and he thinks everyone around him should, too. I can’t keep up. Especially when reminded frequently that I’ve been a massive fuck up lately.
But ya know, I always said I had a reason for not cutting ties to him…Now that I have pissed him off royally…of course, the car needs work.
I am so stressed to the max. I’m even three dollars short on paying car insurance so they will probably cancel me. (We had to have gas and food, ffs.)
I am so sick of whining about money problems but I find…it’s a common theme these days for a lot of people. And it wears you down.
Probably why I’ve been signing up for any sweepstake that even has a prepaid gift card or debit card. Now that the car is broken (functionally broken) that is gonna take from what little Christmas for Spook budget.
But ya know…I am still here and kicking so…What doesn’t kill me will only make me stronger…Ya know…to wield the Z Whacker.
And that concludes the “woe is me” portion of this rant.
I am going to go check on my spider. Yes, we have this spider outside that has spun the most beautiful web from the patio table umbrella to the step. Like a foot wide and six feet in length. I admire that fastidious lil critter.
And the decor works for the season, right?