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Daily Archives: September 8, 2017
*Said no one, ever. But godDAMN is my bathroom sparkling, people!! This time off has done wonders for my apartment!!! The dust level has gone down many, many piles . . . to nearly nil. I have washed, scrubbed and vacuumed the FUCK out of this place!! It’s amazing what a little free time will do to a person . . . my oh MY it feels GOOD being in this apartment now!! I can’t think of a single thing I need to do!! I think I’ll go ice my back, and read something. I’m enjoying my last days of laziness and idleness . . . soon I will be crying from the intensity of a full-time job I’m sure. Happy Friday to you all! ❤
Filed under: Bipolar, Bipolar and Work, Bipolar Disorder, Mental Illness, Psychology, Psychology Shmyshmology Tagged: Bipolar, Blogging, Mental Health, Mental Illness, Psychology, Reader
You might be asking, “33 days to go to what?” (Lucy already knows the answer—she’s such a smart Scottish collie!) October 10th is my book’s official “birthday,” otherwise known as its publication date. That momentous day will be the perfect excuse to buy a super-yummy chocolate cake. Even if a snarky one-star review is posted, I … Continue reading 33 Days to Go!
Gave my first test today and thought it would be very easy. I was wrong. Only one A so far. But we will see. I have them all graded except for one which is being finished as we speak. SO we will see what comes of that.
TUrned in something that could turn out to be a good professional opportunity for me–a virtual “fellowship” at a prestigious magazine. I had to turn in four samples of flash fiction and answer a bunch of questions about myself, I won’t know anything until late December so that is now just a waiting game. I was so excited about the opportunity that I actually told Bob about it and he responded well.
Had a teleconference last night and that went well as a workshop. I need to finish reading part of the new book for this three weeks and work on my craft essay. I also need to finish critiques of two people whose stories I did not get complete copies of. We will see how it goes.
I am playing as much soothing music as I can to calm my nerves over this hurricane stuff. I don’t; want to go backwards more than I already have. And I’m praying it just goes out into the Atlantic and falls to bits. So unnerving.
Hope everyone has a good weekend. Pray for the hurricane victims.
Yesterday afternoon wasn’t awful. I let my kid play a couple of hours, then we went to a yard sale (trying to find her winter shirts, she has none) and we hit Aldi. I made her carry the ice cream she just had to have and she held it to her chest then loudly exclaimed, “This is freezing off my nipple!”
I busted into laughter, too funny to be embarrassed. Out of the mouths of babes and all that.
The kids kept knocking even after told she was done playing for the night. They even tried whining to sway me but I held tough. And it paid off. Turns out, I have to stop being the yes monster and start being a damned mom. Moms set limits and say no and they don’t waffle because their anxiety disorder would just rather avoid the stress of a child’s tantrum. We played some sort of lottery game she made up, we read books together. Had a little trouble getting her to stay in bed as she kept popping up like a demented Jack In The Box but finally she slept and I got to lay down in my room and breathe.
That ended when R called toward nine thirty. Then he had to call me back cos he was getting another call. And he just prattles on about do this, do that, I could hire you full time, you’re really kicking ass at taking care of the shop and this helps you and Spook out too and…Dude, just shut up. I’ve got this…until I don’t.
You don’t burn as many employer bridges as I have without there being more of an issue than laziness. Fact is, I just melt down once I hit a breaking point. And here texting chihuahua is taking indefinite service 5 days a week and my stomach just churns. Because I can keep trying and plodding through, but I know my cycles, especially with seasonal affective coming on, and this is not the time to put your money on me. I wouldn’t put money on myself. It’s not being physically unable. It’s the mental aspect. At some point I am gonna hit my wall, as I did a few years back, and he wouldn’t back off, just kept making demands of me, and I shut down, didn’t speak to anyone but my family for 5 months. We wouldn’t have starting talking again if Mrs. R had’t come to my door and declared she missed me and Spook and invited us over.
I am exhausted with the bridge burning. I’ve had employers who had the compassion to give me some leeway when I was struggling, even without a doctor’s note. Yet this man is my friend and because he’s working 2 jobs 18 hours a day, he thinks I should just bend to his will because it’s good for us both. Just like the last meltdown…I can live without smokes, mangoritas, going anywhere but to get groceries…Other than car repairs and ensuring my kid and cats have food, the benefits of me pushing myself over the edge are not worth it. I need to be able to cry uncle and not have it held against me.
That’s not gonna happen with R. He will leave me no option but to torch the bridge. And make me feel guilty for it because I will be failing him. He just doesn’t have the emotional IQ to grasp the severity of my mental limitations even though he has lived with them, witnessed them, time and again. It still does not register. And so my stomach churns more because if a couple of days a week to melt down would keep me from melting down, why can’t he just concede? Why push me so hard knowing at some point I will either tell him to fuck off or I will just stop coming around period. Why repeat the same patterns when someone is telling you, ‘this is what will work best for me to be at my best’.
And by the third call last night, this one after 11pm, it occurred to me…The man doesn’t even remember his email password. Who is gonna be more screwed here? I have all the information for his log ins and he’s the one who set them up, so shouldn’t he know them? Does he remember the best sites for the cheapest parts? Who else does he have who will put up with his crap? Because he will just use me up as long as this ‘real’ job keeps him working then when they lay him off again and the shop hits its usual winter lull where people just buy new shit instead of fixing it…he will be whining that he can’t feed himself and keep the lights on and I will be swatted aside. This is his pattern. And I have come to accept and live with it.
My rebel streak is roaring, though. If I can accept his limitations toward being a sensitive human being, why can’t he get it through his skull that I didn’t end up on disability just because I have a few ‘moody’ days? Give and take, but I’m not getting much give her, just a lot of take.
So I had a hell of a time getting to sleep after he got me all rattled. I couldn’t stay asleep when I did drift off. Once again, I was wakened before the alarm by a cat licking my face to demand fresh noms and water, Godsmack this time. And so the day began all irritated and filled with dread. This is my life now. And I’ve got it. Til I don’t. Which will probably be sooner than later. My kid has a well kid check up at 3 today which means straight from picking her up from school to the doctor’s office (which is stupid to call it because she hasn’t seen her actual doctor in almost 4 years, just the practitioners, ass trash) and that will be like, nearly 9 hours outside my safe space. I will return to children rioting. And because I’m so busy trying to people please and avoid confrontation, I agreed to a movie night with R because his wife isn’t coming home til tomorrow. And watching movies is not my strong suit, I am too unfocused and squirmy, so he best bring ritas if he wants me to sit still and feign civility.
Why do you do this to yourself, Morgue, you moron? I know, right?
I guess I’m starting to buy the party line that there’s nothing wrong with me but weak character and the way to stability is to just push myself harder and be more agreeable even to my own detriment because ultimately it will make me ‘better’. I know it doesn’t work that way, but I’m too busy trying to make sure the term ‘non compliant’ doesn’t go into my psych file, I tend to trample my own needs and toss out what is best for me to avoid confrontation. That brings anxiety attacks…
I’ve got this. Until I don’t.
Have the fire trucks ready. The bridges will be burning.