So after 4 days of running around, in spite of shark week pre-cursors and traffic and the helliday and my kid’s busy social life…I hit the wall last night, nicely, and I slept. Oh, I slept so well, and I was all mean and made her sleep in her own bed because she’d spent 4 nights in mine…(Just when you think they’ve outgrown it).
It was good, because I knew today she would be spending the night at grandma’s and I could take the necessary time to recover from, well, being her social tour guide. Because it doesn’t matter how little I must participate or how far back on the sidelines I stand…It comes with a Huge Price. But I was willing, for her sake, which meant, I spent my July 4th home noshing Marco’s pizza (meth for the tastebuds, totally addictive and no tooth loss) and not drinking a drop of ritas. I had to fetch her toward midnight from her church shindig. PLUS, in the morning, I dragged my medication nausea/barfing induced butt out of bed to take her to the parade meeting point for the church so she could join in…AND I parked down at the shop and walked 3 blocks to the parade route, amidst panic inducing dish dwellers, just so she could see her mom cared enough to show. (Even if I went all tasmanian devil and vanished 2 mins later.)
I AM TRYING. For her. Because part of me thinks I am done, stick a moldy rusted spork in me. I am duty above joy or pursuit of happiness. Ha, depression laughs at such silliness.
THEN I got a text at 8:10 a.m. today. R asking me to pop by the shop cos he couldn’t find his glasses, thought he left them at home. And it was like, poof, from a carriage to a pumpkin. No longer relaxed and enjoying hard earned rest, just back into the fray of being what everyone needs me to be so I can use the barter system for what I need. Which, by the way, means I am still driving a car that runs like shit, backfires, and I am pretty sure has failing back brakes and is gonna kill me but R has no time for me, I just gotta drop all for him.
I went once she finally woke. And it turned out, his glasses were left at his buddy’s place because all the shiny happy married people my age/ten years my age, have raised their kids and now they have cook outs and shit, WITHOUT ME, and I wanna say it’s cos yes, I am younger, have a small kid, can’t afford to chip in for food and whatever…But frankly, I think I am just that much of a depressive downer no one wants me around. And how can I blame them when at least once a day I kinda wait to hear I have cancer or swine ebola so there seems some merciful end in sight of this…this…mentally disordered existence.
Chances are I would have declined an invite. But to not even be invited for the first time in 5 years? Wow. I suck. I suck more than a Dyson vacuum.
Hurt feelings aside…I can’t bring myself to really care.
What did get me fired up was when I dropped my kid at my mom’s for her sleepover and my mom, DIVORCED FROM MY DAD 20 YEARS NOW, informs me that dad and stepmonster are bringing in a FUCKING MINIATURE PONY to their armpit town for my kid’s birthday next month. I wasn’t told and I am so fucking mad, I want them both to die. I am her parent and they didn’t invite me or even check scheduling. Because she wants a sleepover at her home with her neighbor friends and I agreed to it and here those assholes are usurping me, leaving me out, telling me when they’re gonna take her for 4 days…
And instead of maternal support because it upset me so much, my idget mother tells me not to drag her into it and tell them she mentioned it.
HELLO? Spook is MY child. MINE. Someone should not only mention it, it should have been mentioned long ago, to me, to begin with. I love miniature ponies and I am glad she has friends in her grandpa’s neighborhood…But this being left out of the loop like I’m not even a factor makes me want to pull the plug, start a family war, and declare NONE of them get her for any birthday celebration.
But I am gonna hold off til after shark week and the hormones die down a little then I will go from there. Only thing worse than an asshole family is being so whacked out myself I make the assholes look like decent beings.
So now I am kid free, housework buried, and I have to see my nurse practitioner tomorrow and her office already called with disapproving tones because I haven’t had the blood work done. One more person I have to justify my hormonal raw emotional nerve endings to and hope she has the empathy to grasp that I am not being non compliant…I am….flailing.
And since I am flailing no matter how brave I am and what major things I accomplish for my kid’s sake…I am gonna selectively eviscerate myself emotionally.
I am on binge watch season 11 of Grey’s Anatomy and I am at the episode where Derek dies and this one made me bawl an hour the first time around…Shark week, I may still be bawling tomorrow. But the plus side is…least fictional characters make me feel something that isn’t toxic, that has a little hope, that doesn’t feel like my soul is dying.
Let’s leave that sucky reality shit to family and bipolar depression.