Daily Archives: June 26, 2018

Hot Damn! Mom Of The Year I Am Not

Riding in the car with my kid means…ugh, music compromise. So we found a semi-local station that plays both 80’s and current songs. Sadly, I was recently infected with “Uptown Funk” which totally blows my rep as ‘heavy metal chick.’ I’m not much on labels but, ewww, popular music? I stand by my choice, though. It’s a dance-y catchy song. (As is “One I Want To Want Me’ by um, Jason, something, awesome backbeat). If music ‘speaks’ to me, I’m down with it. Fortunately, I am immune to and repulsed by the likes of Katy Perry (sans “Hot N Cold, I blame the Chippette’s version as the Squeakwel was Spook’s fave movie for 3 years) and Miley Virus. Er, Cyrus. I encourage my daughter to have her own tastes without regard to whether I like it or not. It was a gift my mother gave me and I thought if I should pass anything on, it should be freedom of choice over what you like and don’t like. I mean, I recently discovered a country song I really liked, “Thinking Of You”, by Christian Kane. And doubtful I’d have ever liked it if I hadn’t first heard it on the show “Leverage”. I can be a bit of a music snob, I own it.

BUT where I earned my ‘not mom of the year’ stripes is when we were in the store and my kid was singing LOUDLY from ‘Uptown Funk’. I guess small kids saying “Hot damn!” is frowned upon is some establishments? I have told her to watch it at school, church, and around some adults, but hey, my mom never censored my music, so I’m not gonna censor my kid’s. (And honestly, my father taught me ‘cocksucker motherfucker!’ when I was 8 because the car wouldn’t start and he cracked the dashboard by slamming his fist into it, no turning back from that!).

Upside to the frowns at a kid saying swear words is how many people commented on her uber energy and how happy she is. OMG, I AM DOING SOMETHING RIGHT!!! Though I am a little concerned than someone mistook her for being 12. My kid won’t turn 9 until August, she’s just very tall cos her parents are both tall! By the time she actually is 12, she’s probably gonna look 21 and I am in for more hell. But…she IS a very happy child when not eschewing “I’m bored!” and voicing complaints about everyone not obeying her. So much for the ‘single parent households breed depressed children”. My kid’s only depressed when told ‘no, you can’t run with scissors and I can’t buy you a pet T-Rex.” Furthermore, we independently chose the same style of flip flops, without consultation, so so much for the donor’s prior assertions that not breastfeeding meant not properly bonding with my child. She IS a mama’s girl, through and through, no matter our issues. Besides, I think by month 9 of me not fully medicated, he started to get that breastfeeding simply wasn’t a viable option if I were to stay functional enough to be a mother. I NEEDED my meds, even to my own chagrin.

I figured today was gonna suck cos I had a rough, rough night sleeping. I nodded off before midnight but I was awake at 12:30, then 1:15, then up at 2:30 am. and I didn’t fall back to sleep til almost 6 a.m. even with more melatonin and it was fricking frustrating. I am not able to nap cos I have an active child, but also because I have to be burned to the ground to nap during daylight hours. We don’t have cable and I can’t run a laptop all night so without my desktop tower, I can’t run the shows that put me to sleep, so I am stuck with the 5 or 6 channels our digital antenna pulls in. I thought ‘PBS’ would bore me to sleep but scumbag brain wasn’t having it. And honestly, maybe the cooking show bores me, but I should have known a special on the history of Scotland Yard would keep me awake, I lurve crime shows. Sad thing is, I remember being awake at the same time last week on the same channel watching how they built a protective arch over the Chernobyl plant. My interests are specific but can also be diverse. Not much choice at 2:30 a.m. in Armpit with no desktop computer.

I felt so ‘coherent’ this morning, I even called my dad by choice, to inquire if they’d managed to fix their water heater issues. (They had to get a $1500 loan and do the work themselves cos the ‘pro’ wanted twice that and his work ‘had’ to meet ‘code’).Anyway, driving into town after finally getting dressed and motivated, we were rocking both “Want to want me” and “Uptown Funk” and I was almost…manic. I mean, I was feeling really good, dancing in the seat, singing along. I felt GOOD. And it was due, too.

30 minutes in town and I realized…Armpit and technology are destroying me. First we went to a store and my card was declined 3 times, even though I’d just used it to put gas in the car so there was money on it. Had to hit an ATM and go back for our stuff. The cashier finally admitted their machine was pretty much declining everything but cash and credit but still…embarrassing to be turned away cos of their computer issues. (We are all so doomed when the computers crash and burn, and my paranoid ass does mean WHEN, not IF.) We ran some more errands and the car’s temp gauge climbed to the middle mark, which made me start panicking. And I hit every fucking yellow light and stop light possible to man, which made the temp climb more. At one point, I stopped, popped the hood, but the fluid is completely full, and the temp out was only 75, so I can only assume I have one more gauge that doesn’t fucking work. Not good for panic disorder. I screamed ‘motherfucker’ no fewer than four times while in traffic. Pretty sure my kid thinks I am evil, but…life goes on. Living so isolated has ruined me for driving in even mild traffic cos, hey, people are fucking dumbasses. (I am no genius, but I don’t take calls and texts while driving, ffs.) I have noted that when in a panic, I do swear a lot, but the alternative is to play Bumper Cars and my insurance rates would jack up and I might go to jail so…cussing it is.

We got home, I begged for mercy from 4 hours of her incessant chatter and…I am in the calm ,safer zone now. I say safer, cos I don’t know if my brother or father are gonna pop in, try to fetch her, come in my house and insult my dust bunnies or mention what a loser I am for being on disability…Every day is a lottery of suckage and I try to be stronger than their ignorant opinions but…family’s tough, you don’t want to fail them or make them ashamed of you and yet, you always have to be true to who you are, even if who you are falls short of their expectations and standards..

GRRR. I wish I had better people skills. I wish I weren’t so high strung. I wish my default wasn’t ‘mood crash to the gutter; when the weather changes and my stress level soars.

But wishing isn’t reality. This is who I am, the hand I have been dealt, and I am doing battle best I can to be the best version of myself. And honestly, who I am is always gonna fail rednecks and elitists because I relate to neither group. I kind of am my own group of one- I socialize when it suits me, I retreat when I deem it necessary. I make do the best I can with what I have and while I may feel guilt for not ‘being what they want me to be’…

Sorry not sorry. Being who I am is the best I can do for me, and that’s what matters most to me. Right or wrong…being true to myself is what I value most.

Even if I am a trainwreck that makes others cringe.

Trainwreck is the new hot mess, get used to it.

Still Walking

in healing today!  No more trouble out of my knees on stairs in the house.  I am still amazed at what God did for me.  I am so happy to be pain free.

(Be sure to check out the full details on my healing on my YouTube channel “Julie Whitehead”)

Been busy today,  Went and bought Bob’s birthday present early this morning and settled what I am giving him for everything coming up.  Then I took my youngest and her friend to the pool before lunch and let them swim for a while.  Then I went and voted in our congressional run-off and now I am settled down and eating lunch as I type.

TOday is mine and Bob’s 25th wedding anniversary. We are going to Natchez to celebrate this weekend at the bed-and-breakfast that we went to on our honeymoon so that is going to be exciting.  I’m looking forward to the trip.  I’ll pack for it this week and be ready when we leave Friday afternoon.  We’ve had such a good run with a few bumps along the way, but we are still here and having fun together.

Hope everyone is having a good start to their week.   I know I am!

 

Why Bother, It’s Just One More Chore Trudging Uphill In Molasses

Unfortunately, even with my medication allegedly ‘working’… my mental space truly is viewing everything as a chore. Even bathing. I went 5 days without a bath and tonight, my greasy scalp just forced me to climb Mount Molasses and sure, I feel better now but…It’s a chore like any other, doing dishes, laundry, vacuuming, grocery shopping. It’s exhaustion and I feel bruised and battered afterward, at least mentally and physically. I guess the small sense of accomplishment has to be worth something, but I never thought bathing would become a momentous task and mountain to be scaled. I swear, it wasn’t this bad at the trailer. At least not every week. But not having a shower makes it an even bigger pain in the ass and hearing shit like, “What grown woman still takes baths?” doesn’t help. Because I happen to agree, I loathe baths. And I am allergic to bubblebath and assorted other bath beauty items that make you smell nice so…

One more bloody chore.

Depression is a cruel, vindictive mistress.

You know others do these mundane chores every day, most after working long shifts, and taking care of their kids, and they have it way harder than you do, so what the hell is wrong with you, are you just that lazy? And you want so desperately to change the way you’re feeling and thinking, you want to want to do these normal things, boring and cumbersome as they can be.

But sheer desire alone isn’t enough to overcome depression. If it were, I’d never have suffered more than one bout because my stubborn rebellious nature would have stomped both big feet down and forbidden it with two middle fingers extended.

Depression gives zero fucks. It doesn’t care that people are sick of hearing you talk about it and just want you to get over it. Nor does it give a damn that it’s sucking out your soul, destroying your relationships, altering your identity, and basically consuming your life. Tick tock goes time, time doesn’t stop just because depression has you in its steel jaws, shaking you into the dark abyss.

Even when you have a couple of days that ‘aren’t too bad’, the chores are still damn hard to manage so you procrastinate and that fills you with self loathing and it is a vicious cycle that feeds the depression monster and it keeps gobbling until you feel so empty, there’s nothing much left of you. You bully yourself, you try to rally, you muster up every ounce of strength and ‘fuck you’ fire left inside you, wanting so desperately to ‘snap out of it’ and get stuff done…

And depression giggles, then laughs maniacally…

And yet another day of your life has vanished, a day you can never get back whether it was your kid’s birthday, or first day of school, or your loved ones’ funeral. None of these things matter to depression, it’s hungry and it’s gonna dine on whatever you have left. So every day becomes a tick tock game, looking forward to the nothingness of sleep, when you can shut off your mind and depression has to be quiet for awhile.

Only to wake up every 90 minutes pretty much every night of the month so you’re never rested and never really feel tough or strong or motivated.

Then it’s time to wake up and do it all over again.

If a medication is truly working…you do battle with fire in your belly and your eyes.

If a medication is lagging and conking out…

Here I am, no doctor in sight after a month for them reassign me and call.

Hard to see an up side there. Even harder to give a damn about things like bathing and housework when even your own psychiatric care center seems to give zero fucks about how much of your life is passing before your eyes due to depression.

I’m still in the fight and daily it feels like I get pinned to the mat and it is exhausting and maddening…But what else am I gonna do? Roll up in a ball and hope they cart me off to a locked ward and maybe then I will get some help?

That’s a joke and a half. What psych wards are supposed to do and what they actually do are two different things. You should read this post if you want to know what it’s really like. She nailed it with railroad spikes.

So I fight with all I’ve got and on the occasional good day, I think, “Maybe I’ve got this.”

Let’s hope for less occasional good days and more plain old good days. 🙂

***Final note

Heartfelt thanks to all who donated to our campaign. Spook and I’d like to send out a very special thanks to Leslie, who has been a very good wordpress friend over several years, her surprise donation is helping us immensely. I am keeping the campaign active because, hey, we still gotta make that goal, plus soon the spawn is going to need school clothes and supplies and unfortunately, the power company and landlord aren’t going to be put on hold to accommodate this. Any help-even a share- restores my faith in the goodness of humanity

I know people prefer cats over moms and kids by simply by looking at how much and how quickly my sister raised to help her cat’s vet bills. But it’s my own fault, to an extent, she had multiple people on multiple social media sites reaching out for her. I just can’t do social media, at least not outside the safe respectful confines of wordpress. People can be monsters. And not the cute Mike kind from Monsters, Inc. Fortunately, there are still some good people out there.

I think. I hope.

I have to have hope or otherwise…the battle against depression is pointless.