Daily Archives: July 2, 2018

Swallowing Your Feelings Is Akin To Drinking Drain Cleaner

Last 2 days have been stress overload. Some triggered, some…my new life in Armpit near my overly stressful dad’s faction. But I find myself forcing down my feelings to the degree it feels like I may as well be downing shots of drain cleaner and waiting to keel over. I know that anxiety and depression often lend to irrational feelings that cause an overreaction but some things kind of warrant a reaction. In my current financial position, it’s an option I don’t often get to exercise because, geesh, I owe, I owe, family, landlord, upcoming school clothes and supplies. In another crushing blow today, I found out the local center that usually helps with summer cooling bills has no funds so they won’t be doing that this year and running the AC is gonna put us under to the point of disconnect. I’ve not gotten a disconnect notice in 7 years since the donor left us high and dry so this option simply isn’t desirable.

Yesterday one of the car windows wouldn’t roll up during a torrential downpour and my dad went off on me because I rolled the window down in the first place. It was broken when he gave me the damn car, works sometimes, sometimes doesn’t. He ordered me to use the AC instead of rolling down the windows but when the car gets hot so easily, that just seems bloody ignorant. On and on he went, lecturing me like some dumbass teenager, not hearing a word I said, and because I owe them I have to bite my tongue until there are so many tooth holes in it, you could strain spaghetti. I did thank my stepmonster for fixing the window (sort of, least it went up so I don’t have to drive around with a trash bag on the window) and not yelling at me…but then she went off on my kid for rolling the window down and said she was going to ‘beat her ass right in front of your mother.’ At that point, I DID speak up and said I got no problem grounding her, standing her in a corner, taking away TV and tablet…But NO, you are NOT gonna spank my kid, you redneck sadist.

We went to town today to try and pay rent. Landlord wasn’t home, won’t return my calls, so I sit here, nervous as a long tailed cat in a room full of rocking chairs, not knowing if he’s gonna pop in at some random point or charge me a late fee or…who knows what. My kid went into gasping “I want!” and complain mode while we were in town, sticking so close to me I tripped like 5 times and was at my breaking point. Got home only to get a call within moments that dad and crew were on their way to mow the lawn. Ya know, I’d like to think it’s because they care but he reminds me EVERY time that they’d get $50 per mow from everyone else. 6 years at the trailer they never once mowed my lawn. Then again, they hadn’t vouched with their good buddy that I’d be a good tenant. They care what this landlord thinks since they did vouch for me so they only mow it so I don’t make them look bad. Sound cynical? I wish it was.

Then my dad started in on how they are gonna be so busy the 4th cos they were invited to a hog roast, then to their neighbor lady’s soiree and Spook was, too, but…not me. I did nothing to these people! And hey, hanging out with redneck strangers may not be my cup of tea but this gloating how popular they are with the locals seems a lot like reminding me that I’m an outsider. Normally, I am fine with this. BUT they’re taking my kid from me on a holiday and they robbed me of saying no by asking in front of her and she wants to go cos other kids will be there so if I say no-and we can’t afford to do anything- then I am boring, mean mommy.

I am grateful for their help, the lawnwork, but damn, they just seem hellbent on making it clear my kid would rather be with them and I am not accepted here. And I can’t fathom what sadistic father would want to do that to his own daughter but then, some of the atrocities parents have perpetrated on their kids…guess mine is a lightweight. Still pisses me off.

But our errand into town is done, the mowing and family interacting is done, and now I just gotta wait for the landlord to ninja visit or call. (Will phones ever stop making me panic????) Oh, and of course, the wild card of dad visiting and by now I’m 1.5 mg in on Xanax so I’ll probably be perceived as too calm thus on something like booze or drugs. GAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHh. Pre-spawn, I gave zero fucks. Now that I am in the position where she could be taken away from me even on rumor or wrong assumptions…Yeah, now I kind of care but I can control medication impact no more than I can control hypomania. It happens and compared to days of old…this is child’s play. Seroquel and TRazadone had me sleeping 14 hours a day and nursing a hangover the other ten so I was loopy as fuck. This is an improvement.

So much as I don’t like doing it…I am gonna mention our fundraiser again.

At least I have the decency to not feel good about asking strangers for help.

Half the time I wake up to 3 a.m. religious infomercials where some preacher is promising to plant seeds of hope for people who donate $15 or more. Some poor woman said she couldn’t spare it that month and he bullied her by saying, “If I offered to sell you my BMW for fifteen dollars, could you get it then?” She said probably, and he said, “See, it’s just the desire to want to do it.”

Fuck you if you’re a preacher and driving a BMW while begging your parishioners to give money that might just mean they don’t get their medication or groceries for a week. These ‘Godly’ folks are frauds, they are out for themselves, and worse, they do it in God’s name. THEY are the ones who should feel ashamed, not a single disabled mom with a small child. Unfortunately, the world is such an obscene place these days (and as far as TV preachers are concerned, always has been) so I’ll be the one called a fraud out to scam people when I drive a $450 car and wear clothes with rips and tears so I can make sure my kid doesn’t. Yep. I am the devil.

Just a share. $5. Whatever it takes to get us caught up.

You may not know us and you may think it’s a scam but you have 6 and a half years of my archives you can read and you will find only inconsistency of my stability mentally. My story has never changed because that’s how the truth is.

Good Time

was had by all in Natchez.  We just visited historical sites and interesting places and took it easy the rest of the time. I’m certainly glad my knees healed in that I was able to take the stairs and look at so many interesting things.  Our B&B we were at had no elevator so we were on the second floor and had to take steps, which didn’t hurt me!  It was hard to remember to take them normally because I got so used to doing them the other way.  But we enjoyed ourselves and I think did something really good for our relationship as well.

Came back to two happy campers which was nice also.   The girls got along well in the time we were gone and spent some time with their grandfather too, which was good. No fighting or anything that we know of so we feel good about that as well.

Came back to news of my novella–the release date has been pushed to November 1 which is okay with me.  I’m looking forward to seeing it and I’m supposed to receive payment sometime this week so that is good as well.  Now if I could just get something else accepted soon I would be very happy with that.

Hope everyone has a good  start to their week.

Days Like This

I suppose there are “days like this” for everyone.  It can be relative.  What deeply affects me, rolls right off you.  And vice versa.  As my mind tries to scramble together the answers…how did this happen again?  I was so diligent..so vigilant..so mindful..so…..

I am frozen on the couch.  I have no answers.  I chew on my nails.  My legs bounce around full of anxiety and fear.  The tears, just behind these blue eyes, hover in anticipation of the fall.  Too many thoughts and surely the visible pain will be seen.  Trying ever hard to keep it together. 

Not thinking. Over thinking. Just breathing.  Looking out the window, searching for something to see.  Something else to feel.  Distraction must be the key.  As the wind tousles the trees, and I can hear dogs barking down the street, I attempt to lose myself in sounds of life.  Life outside of me. 

Replays of the last conversation w one of My favorite people. Really, my best friend. Rattles my mind.  The one uncomplicated relationship has somehow entered the realm of complication.  In just a matter of minutes, emotionally charged extra long seconds, things now feel weird. Uncomfortable. Disappointing. Sad. 

I’m not afraid of honest apology. I am afraid of confrontation. Afraid someone important to me will stop loving me at any moment. Because I’m an alcoholic. Because I have bipolar disorder. Because sometimes I’m irrational, over emotional, and so damn sensitive.  But, this is all part of who I am.  

I was recently discussing the idea of redemption. For me, this translates into regaining trust w my husband.  Trust I have shattered too often in the past year.  First it was a devastating manic episode, which I will never forget.  But, really it’s about my picking up the bottle to solve problems, knowing it most likely will cause problems. That part I conveniently forget. 

Stepping whole heartily into recovery; be it from alcohol, binge eating, gambling, or mental illness can be scary. Intimidating. Exhilarating. Freeing.  Though, one never knows when, if, or how those feelings may come about.  Trusting in the process.  Trusting in self. A personal redemption of sorts can feel simultaneously completely out of reach and infinitely possible.  Depends on the day. The amount of willingness available.  Perhaps which step is being taken. Literally and figuratively.  

I acknowledge I am powerless. I believe A power greater than myself can restore me to sanity. What I feel I need to do next is relax.  Step back even. Not try so hard to conquer whatever beast I think is in front of me. Real or perceived. Be it the jobs I’m Interviewing for, the complications I may have had a hand in, wanting so badly to understand how to turn it all over, and just being a better person.  

Phew. It’s a long road. Learning to not be so hard on myself.  Not attaching myself to the outcome. Reaching out.  Being grateful my arm extends into the air unexpectedly sometimes. Most of all, opportunities to make things right are all possible. IF I’m open enough to just let things happen.