I know, I know. WTF is with that title? Just one of those quirky things that happen when you have a small kid. I tried to explain to Spook how it is more cost effective to get 20 cookies for a dollar versus 4 tiny candy bars for a dollar. And she said, “Two plus two equals fish.” And it just hit me as being really funny. Not that I had a laugh or anything. NOPE.
Because pms week has arrived and I am crampy and my emotions are out of whack and like the grown up I am, I am practicing avoidance behavior concerning R. I cannot deal with someone that broken right now. And yeah, he has the successful life and dozens of friends and nice cars and blah blah blah…But the fact he can’t be supportive and he can’t allow me to have emotions without treating me like I am suffering from ebola…He is the broken one. Not the devil but also…Not bringing much positive to the table.
The depression still has a stranglehold, but at least it’s no longer the suicidal depression. MY lawn needs mowed and I can’t seem to get off my ass and do it. But at least my house is only biohazard 2, mostly because, ha ha ha, I broke the vacuum again.
The anxiety and exhaustion are at fever pitch, courtesy of my uber popular kid and all her friends being in my face (even if from a distance) 24-7…MOM MOM MOM MOM MOM. And the kids always asking for our food when I can barely afford to feed my own kid and then I gotta feel like a stingy monster for saying no, I can’t feed 5 different kids every single day.
I still haven’t had my lithium level drawn and checked. I am gonna ask to be taken off of it. Lamictal does fine as long as I’m not on mania overlord…as for the Cymbalta…I think it’s curtains. Maybe the nurse practitioner can suggest a newer one. SOMETHING has got to get me out of the abyss. Like the start of school and oh, R getting called back to his work so I can be free of parts this, parts that, do this, do that. What can I say, I feel indebted and on a good day, ordering shit from home isn’t too taxing. On the bad days, the demands, the expectations…it’s too fucking much and I melt down. And when I am all hormonal and feeling every emotion to the nth degree but I can’t even speak to the man because he will make it all about him being right and me being lazy or too emotional or whatever excuse that makes him not responsible for anything.
But that could be the pms talking. THough after 6 years…I am doubting it. The feelings have remained the same, only the intensity changes. I’ll own that. I will NEVER be okay with people who refuse to accept me, moods and feelings and all, while expecting me to accept their shitty qualities.
Sad to say, the ones guiltiest of this…are my own family.