Daily Archives: July 23, 2018
There is a common storyline regarding depression, or depressed people, that love is the key factor. Some people feel guilty that they didn’t love a person enough to prevent a suicide. Some people think that being surrounded by love is the best cure for depression. Some people think that if you have love in your […]
It’s all this iceberg.
I don’t have the heart to write today. Hopefully I will feel better tomorrow. Hope everyone has a good week.
So I quit my job last week. Feel like I failed myself. The desire to keep going is so weak. I don’t know what I’m going to do. All I want is to lay here. I feel nothing.
I’ve been awake since 4 a.m. No mystery why, between the financial stress, the possibility of failing my kid with her birthday and school clothes, and tomorrow’s court hearing facing off with the donor. I’ve been in a state of panxiety all day, jumping at every sound, stomach churning, heart skipping beats, mind racing, frozen in place with paranoid anxiety. Like if I moved, the sky would fall. Yet I paced a lot. A whole lot. Accomplished nothing.
My kid went to my dad’s today. Except they didn’t tell me they were bringing her home to their house after church so I waited over an hour, starting to freak out, then get fucking pissed because I told my brother when he picked her up for church TEXT OR CALL AND LET ME KNOW IF SHE’S GOING BACK TO YOUR HOUSE. I had to call to find out for sure and dad was snarky, like I don’t have the right to want to know where my child is.
Hours ticked away. I remained jumpy and anxious, unable to focus or eat or get anything done. With them, they could bring her back any minute so what would be the point of bathing if they could come traipsing through the door at any moment…Hour after hour, I waited. Supper time for us, not a word. At 8 p.m. I finally texted my brother and said I wanted her back home and he came back with ‘after we’re done with dinner. OMFG, are you fucking kidding me????I waited that whole time so I could cook and eat with my child and none of the three of them could even send a text to let me know????? I was furious, and I think it’s justified, but of course, it’s the usual, ‘she’s in a mood’ or ‘she must be on the rag’ or ‘she’s overreacting’. Spook is MY child, not theirs.
Finally heard from the lawyer, which was a fucking miracle as he had my old number. If I wasn’t still getting magicjack notifications for voice mail (hasn’t been active in 3 years and won’t give me messages but it leaves a number of who called so I got back with him and he amazingly said, after 2 years without a word, he recognized my voice, huh? I must have a distinct voice.) But he will be there tomorrow and I told him I am done with the venom and seeking any back support, I just want the donor held accountable for his legal bills since ya know, he was the one who abandoned us with little food and no diapers for Spook. That’s the least that…person can do. Fortunately, tomorrow will just be a brief hearing where the judge decides to dismiss or carry on to another date. Not good for my nerves but…If he wants to fight me on the custody or visitation thing, I have 15 witnesses, most of whom he’s had contact with as recently as a week ago, who can attest that he’s never once asked them about his daughter. I don’t think his fragile psyche could handle a parade of people pointing out what an utter disappointment he is as a father to all 3 of his kids.
Still, courthouses, metal detectors, formal settings..Ugh, I’m in knots and having random gasping panic attacks and it sucks. Sadly, this was what it was like for me when I worked, every single day with the crippling anxiety. The only time I ever breathed were days off. Or well, one day, because by day two, I knew I’d have to go back. Hard work doesn’t bother me. My brain telling me to feel irrational terror bothers me and I can’t bully it into submission.
I doubt exhausted as I am I will get much sleep tonight. But hey, it’s okay. (No, not really, it pisses me off and I’m tired of always being tired.) But PBS sometimes has some cool shows on at 2,3 a.m. Though last night/this morning’s about new policing and how we are being watched constantly and have no expectation of privacy ever and facial recognition is being run from cop cars…Dear God. It doesn’t matter if you’ve done nothing wrong and have nothing to hide. If your underwear have crept up your ass, you should be entitled to rectify the situation off to the side in semi-privacy. Call me paranoid but I don’t think I am paranoid enough. (Oh, and little tidbit I learned on crackd.com…wearing Juggalo make up has actually proven to be a solid way to beat facial recognition software so while I won’t ever be an ICP music fan…if I ever need to duck and hide…Bitch is wearing Juggalo make up. Just saying.)
Finally…I know I am always doing fundraisers and it gets old and honestly, I’ve been looking for side work but I am either unqualified, undesirable, or fucked due to living in isolated Armpit so…having a fundraiser for my kid’s birthday and school stuff…makes sense. Kids are fucking monsters, especially in the upper grades. I remember one year in grade school, my parents were so broke, I owned TWO outfits. I tried to mix and match and keep them washed but that didn’t stop the little bastards from making fun of my limited wardrobe and calling me “stinky” cos they thought I wore the same clothes every day. I don’t want that for Spook. Not saying she has to be a fashionista, we’re good with Wal-mart stuff (and usually even yard sale clothes but due to being broke, I haven’t even been able to hit yard sales for decent used clothes for her.)
So look at this little girl and tell me she isn’t worth a $5 or $10 so she can at least start school with a couple of new outfits and all the supplies the other kids will have. Click just to share, if that’s all you can do. She’s a great kid (for a demon spawn;) and she didn’t ask for any of this crap situation. Any more than I asked for the one I grew up in, yet survived, albeit the name :stinky; did follow me for a couple of years until my parents were able to buy me a few more outfits. Oddly, kids don’t much care if your clothes smell like laundry soap and are clean. They’ll say mean things just because, well, they’re mean spirited little snots.