Author Archives: morgueticiaatoms

Non Fictional Anxiety

Over my years on disability, I’ve been asked How does your condition(s) impact your ability to function normally on a daily basis. During my years blogging about said conditions, I have received a plethora of advice telling me to exercise, meditate, use herbal supplements, envision myself calm and unaffected, be strong, be tough, blah blah blah. (Well meaning people are the bane of my existence because they really don’t get it.)

Today the enormity of my anxiety disorder/panic disorder is slamming into home plate with a cleated shoe to my face.

I’m watching a fictional tv show where most of the characters, including the cops, are corrupt, lying, backstabbing assholes and the only decent characters are all getting screwed over and gaslit by the assholes…and my heart is pounding, my paranoia is up, and it all feels like it may as well be happening to me. I feel scared, outraged, helpless, and I am about to just give up on the final four episodes (it only lived one season) because my fight or flight response is hammering at my psyche…

THIS. This is how my conditions impact my daily functioning. I can’t even watch a fucking tv show because it triggers fight or flight.

Going for a jog, doing some jumping jacks, and inhaling essential oils does not correct whatever is crossed in my brain causing inappropriate messages to make me feel inappropriate emotions and physical responses.

So while some may perservere by jogging 10 miles a day and huffing essence of pegacorn farts…

I’m not so fortunate. And I hate this shit with every fiber of my fucked up being because I can’t even date or eat in a restaurant or go to an amusement park lest the fight or flight panic be set off and send me into a sweating, pretzel gutted foul odor emitting trainwreck.

Yesterday it was the black depression kicking my ass. Today it’s the anxiety.

17 days til my next med check appointment with yet another new psych nurse. Maybe she’ll tell me to stick a spoon on my nose and walk around the block while singing “Yankee Doodle”. After being told by one well meaning person to rub patchouli oil on my pulse points as it would help with depression and anxiety but instead made me sneeze, itch, get hives, and cough until I retched…

It goes to show I’m willing and desperate enough to try pretty much anything but as usual the one size fits all mentality simply doesn’t fit me. I’m oddly propertioned psychologically, I guess.

Dear Followers…Sorry…Really, I Am Sorry

I received two donations towards Spook’s birthday/school clothes funds and due to shit memory, I forgot my password to log into gofundme so I could send proper thank yous days ago. I keep thinking, ‘I’ll feel better tomorrow” but…meh, depression doesn’t really work that way. I seem to get one high functioning day a week and I never know when that will be so…I truly am sorry for my breach in etiquette, for we truly are grateful for the donations. Every little bit help, and even a share helps restore faith in humankind. Even if this week I have been a poor example myself with shit manners. Really am sorry.

I am hormonal, crampy, and my sleep has become so plagued with disturbance, I never feel rested. Just exhausted all the damned time and you’d think the doctor might want to do something about that but meh, they toss either coma drugs or weak ass anti-histamine-wanna-be-sleep-drugs because the stuff that works for actual sleep like Lunesta or whatever isn’t covered by shit insurance so sucks to be me.

And today, it really does suck to be me. I am in such a dark, listless space. When I say all I look forward to is bedtime..today is one of those days when it’s not merely a mind frame. It’s literally all I can think of every two minutes, clock watching, waiting, hoping the time passes quickly, praying for night time so I can shed this day and this mind frame like the nasty rotting layer of skin it is. I even tried to outrage myself into a different state of mind by giving in and watching the freaky futuristic Altered Carbon. But I can’t even work up outrage today. I am in a blackened room and sleep is my only respite but tick tock slowly goes the clock…5 and a half hours at least before the spawn wears down and crashes so I can follow suit.

I’d like to say “I’d kill” for a good night’s sleep but apparently these days, you can’t publicly say a fucking thing without it coming back to haunt you as being in bad taste, poor humor, racially insensitive, disrespectful of murder victims and the dead, who the fuck knows. Last time I was on a page about the current supreme court nominee there was clickbait about Zac Efron sporting dreads so people were in an uproar about A FUCKING HAIRSTYLE. Because white people haven’t been sporting dreads as fun fashion statements until right this fucking news cyclel. God, the idiocy around us boggles the mind. Makes me grateful I have whacked out brain chemicals and can be set off by such stupidity. Because if I had ‘normal’ brain chemicals like the masses allegedly do, then I’d be just as intellectually emaciated as them. A FUCKING HAIRSTYLE TRUMPS SOME DUDE WHO IS GOING TO GET A LIFETIME APPOINTMENT TO THE SUPREME COURT.

I’m starting to think the current state of things in the U.S> is a new mental disorder of its own called Trumpdashian Braindeath. If you can look around and not be depressed, you’re either on better drugs, delusional, or Republican. (Oh, that will bite me on the ass, no doubt, but hey, if you’re a Republican with enough intelligence to at least respect differing opinions, no problem here, it’s the mindless followers I want to club with Z-whackers.) Fuck. I went political, that’s never good and it was never something I gave a damn about until…well, everyone started drinking the Kool-Aid. Nothing pisses me off more than mindless following, religious or political affiliation be damned. Think for yourself, have your principles, but for fuck’s sake, never be too zealous to admit when you might be wrong or others’ points of view might be valid, too. Even I can do that much, which is why I triple and quadruple check any story I read about current political events. Much as I like a great witch hunt, I’m thinking multiple sources of multiple affiliations, you’re probably close to the truth there. And more than being right or being agreed with, I just want the fucking truth.

Even when it feeds the Frankenstein that is my depression. I can’t believe how far down the rabbit hole I have fallen, and some of it must be related to improper sleep. Even when my kid’s not home for me to stress out about, I can’t stay asleep. And I want to stay asleep.

So there you have it. Sorry, truly, for lapses in etiquette and my gratitude is true.

Sorry not sorry for the political tirade, it’s gotten downright asinine out there and since I am willing to admit my view isn’t the only view or even necessarily the right view…I have no use for others who can’t do the same. It may cost me followers but…I’m so far down the rabbit hole, launching a few social nukes seems the least of my worries.

And the true blue who read this blog because it resonates in some way…won’t be run off by some hormonal prattling and a small tirade about what we all know to be true. Half of America has joined a cult and aren’t just drinking the Kool-Aid, they’re snorting it in dry powder form, too.

To those I offended who are decent human beings….well, me having my own, perhaps contrary opinion, wouldn’t offend you if you were decent, so….meh.

The Happiest Part Of My Day Is Bedtime

I’ve said it many times before during a deep depression but never have I meant it more than I do now. Sleep, interrupted and haunted by nightmares as it may be, is the one part of the day I truly look forward to. And that’s NOT normal.

I have been in way worse personal situations before. Had far less to look forward to, to live for.

I love my daughter, she is my superpower, my reason for getting up in the morning when every fiber of my being says to stay asleep, pull the covers over, mash a pillow over my head….I fight for her.

But I feel like I’m losing, big time, and I am still 3 weeks from my next med appointment, with yet another new psych pro and my track record with psych nurses is well, one, but it was not a good experience.

My family, as usual, is trying to take over my kid’s birthday. They scream at me to pay the bill that’s in my sister’s name cos they’re broke and no, I can’t make a payment arrangement, but they’re talking about driving 80 miles and spending $40 on party favors…so then they can gripe about not having groceries for two weeks. But it’s this way every year with them, my kid’s birthday isn’t hers, it’s just their chance to show who loves her more by spending more.

I also have to face down school registration next week, which entails driving 22 miles out of the way to fill out paperwork since she entered end of year and I was never given on line log in credentials.

My God, I survived being abandoned with a 2 year old and no money to my name and didn’t feel this fucking hopeless, anxious, and depressed.

That my doctor thought I was in a good place 2 and half months ago is disturbing.

Anyone who’s only joy is going to bed…is NOT doing well and you are NOT a very good doctor to leave a patient in that mental space.

Now my happy time. Lights out, and let the toss and turn commence so eventally I will have the oblivion of sleep. Which is also followed by the self loathing of ‘oh,fuck, I woke up again” in the morning.

This.is.not.norma.or.mentally.healthy. Psychiatric care in this country is appalling in its incompetence.

Ass Clowns Shall Inherit The Earth

I survived court. Barely. They had the AC cranked at the courthouse. I got there 25 minutes early (timing shit since we live in Armpit has become iffy, don’t want be late, so I run too early, bloody hell.) and while everyone else looked comfortable…I was literally pouring with sweat from my scalp, face, neck. Oh, and the added bonus, in spite of bathing, body oil, body lotion, perfume, deodorant, anti perspirant and Gain Febreeze sprayed clothes…I was so stressed and anxious, my body began emitting the usual unpleasant stale odor. FFS. I even broke out the pricey Cool Water perfume (was a gift) in hopes it would battle the stress smell and…FAIL.

Donor wasn’t even there but they couldn’t discern if he’d even received notice due to all his address changes so…another hearing on September 14th. And for the life of me, I( don’t know why. The lawyer laid it all out. Abandonment, no contact for six and half years, the state ordered him to pay support and even knowing that when he got a new job…he didn’t notify the state of his address change or new job. There is a no debt, no property, and he sees my dad and stepmom and sister pretty much weekly as they go to buy gas and such where he’s a ‘manager’…and he doesn’t even ask about Spook’s well being, he just has the nerve to tell my dad he got a promotion but it’s still so hard to make ends meet. Boo fucking hoo.

So the lawyer said he’d go to the donor’s job to get a new address and serve him with papers and of course, if the judge doesn’t order the donor to cover fees…I’ll have to. And I still can’t pay my security deposit and now I have the old bill in my sister’s name to handle (never ever try to discontinue serving on line using a smartphone browser if you’re smart phone illiterate like me, I screwed the pooch there.) And I swear the lawyer is dragging things out, chasing donor down, all in hopes of charging more legal fees which he ain’t getting from me unless he’ll accept a dollar a month. My uncle guaranteed on my behalf but my god, do I need more family debt and drama? The nightmare just gets worse and worse.

And ass clowns like the donor keep getting the benefit of the doubt and judges saying, “Nothing’s been done in this case for 2 years, the parties really need to reach an agreement.” WE AGREE WE HATE EACH OTHER. He abandoned us, he has shirked responsibility at every turn,and cares more about himself whining about not making enough money more than asking my dad “Hey, how’s my daughter doing?” What kind of judge needs more than that to just issue a ruling and move on? I swear the donor is coated in Teflon, nothing ever sticks to him, he skates on supporting 3 kids or even being in their lives, he moves woman to woman, job to job, and…he still gets the benefit of the doubt while I get…screwed without dinner or a kiss. Ass clown motherfuckers.

I encountered more of them trying to get out of town and come home cos Dad and his crew were watching my kid but they had plans today so I had to rush back to fetch her so not to fuck up their lives the way they fuck up mine. I am fairly certain 80% of drivers are braindead ass clowns. And if they’d PUT DOWN THEIR FUCKING PHONES they might descend to just being rude ass clowns.

I survived, though. I had a little picture and plastic toy my kid gave me ‘for comfort’ in my hands the while time I was in the courthouse. She is my superpower. Being her mom is strength. I believe it was quoted in Jessica Jones by her mutant mom that , “I always thought I was meant to do great things, to change the world. But I realize, maybe my great thing was that I had you and you’re going to change the world.” (Loosely quoted, you get the gist.) I’m not beating on a bongo drum declaring my uterus has magical powers, but I DID bring a wondermous child into the world and she can do anything she puts her mind to…So maybe having her is my great thing, my gift to the world.

Or she could be bipolar and high strung like me or well, a sociopath like her donor. I can only guide her in the right direction and hope I get it right. Surely, we’re all entitled to get one thing right in our lives.

The fact she was so concerned about my anxiety over court that she gave me one of her Hatchimals ‘for comfort’ tells me she already has more empathy in her pinky fingernail than a large portion of society.

Donate if you can, share if you will.

Anxiety Files: My Central Nervous System Is Cannibalizing Me

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.

It’s All About The Birthday Girl

I will spare the usual rant except to say…I’m going under here battling depression, anxiety, and how deeply in debt the move and all has made me. This isn’t about me. This is about her. A sneak peak at the page to show that this time it’s different, not my babbling. I was too scatter brained to start a new page, so only $10 for Spook has been raised thus far. We are grateful for every act of kindness, every click of the share button.

Click either pic to go to the actual page to donate or share. Thanks.

Off Kilter And The Bad Thoughts Are Knocking At The Door

As mentioned in my previous post, due to my own inadvertent screw up, I am facing another financial set back, not to mention the entire family turning against me and even dragging my daughter into it. (Seriously, this was an adult problem between me and my sister, and she dragged even my 8 year old into it, as if I wasn’t feeling shitty enough, now my kid is going to judge me. For an honest albeit stupid mistake.) I spent last night alternating between tears of self loathing and doom and nervous throwing up. It’s bad enough when you fuck up and it creates a rift between you and another person, but now the entire family knows and I am in the hot seat. I will remain there even if I by some miracle manage to juggle some expenses and correct my fuck up. It’s like a family lynch mob with me as the lynch-ee. Maybe I deserve it. Though I fail to see why my sister had to drag everyone, including my kid into it.

Today I am on edge, unfocused, freaking out, my stomach is churning. I want my kid home but either way if they bring her home or I go fetch her, I will be facing down my lynch mob. God, I want a normal family where things aren’t used as fodder to start wars within amongst us all. And dear god, if feeling like crap had a monetarily value, I could pay off bills for the entire family. It’s gotten so bad, the Bad Thoughts are lurking in the shadows, knocking on the door. Reminding me that hey, I gave it my best shot but obviously I am never going to get everything right so why bother sticking around.’

I have to reject this. I have to toughen up, deal with my mistake and the fall out, but my prior trust issues inasmuch as my sister handling it between just the two of us are metastasized. Good people don’t drag an 8 year old into adult matters this way. And my family has always done the two face back stabbery since I was a kid so this isn’t new, I just had hope as we got older, that fucked up dynamic might change. It hasn;t and once I correct my mistake…I think it’s time to go back to my minimal contact with them policy. Because even without this fuck up, I am always on some shit list they have and I am fed up. Fighting depression and anxiety are hard enough with the people who ‘love’ me making it even worse.

I am willing to sacrifice, scrimp, cut corners, even let the internet get turned off (though it’s year long contract so I’d still owe them)…I used to dodge my responsibilities and mistakes back during the manic days but I have busted my ass and my brain becoming a better person. I thought I was getting there. I was apparently wrong but I can’t let myself give up and I cannot give power to the Bad Thoughts.

While I am willing to sacrifice and scrimp…

I am praying for a few kind people to donate to Spook’s fundraiser She deserves a birthday and the necessary stuff for the start of school. So if you have a heart at all, help Spook. I’ll try to clean up my mess and keep current on the bills, but…she shouldn’t be punished cos her mom doesn’t always get it right.

Even if you can’t donate…just a share shows you care. Spook is just a little girl about to turn 9 and enter 4th grade. Her getting some clothes, supplies, and even a half decent birthday is every bit as worthy a cause as donating to some soulless political candidate or a campaign to ban plastic straws. Show her there are some decent people out there.

I am trying to be a decent person but falling a bit short. I won’t ever stop trying, though. That little girl is the light of my life and even if my family and the rest of the world deems me to be an evil spawn of satan…All that matters is that my kid keeps seeing me as ‘a good mom.” Just need a little help right now.

Survival Of The Scared Shitless

Well, I had a couple of ‘decent’ days. Spook and I had a decent prepaid meal at the park the other day.
She managed to eat two cheesesticks before declaring that she was bored and it all sucked. I enjoyed it, but then, I’m used to boredome and everything sucking, I truly do appreciate the gift of a pizza Mr. M bestowed upon us. Made me feel kinda….ugh, hopeful, like perhaps I’m not a complete waste of space.

I had two days of being functional. I swept, mopped, did laundry, cleaned cat boxes…which is difficult for me as every part of me feels coated in dried concrete 24-7. I treasure the days I am in the mind frame-and body-to get shit done. I wish I felt that way more often. Some people are all too happy to give advice on what works for them and makes them a high functioning superhero but…sadly, it’s never worked that way for me.

Today seemed not so bad but then SPLAT. I learned that my sister got slapped with an old bill from our old address and it damaged her credit rating. I was paying on the bill (I thought) albeit slowly, only to learn…I was using the wrong account number and paying on a bill that belonged, well to The One Who Shall Not Be Named. I fucked up, big time, and I am humiliated and now on the family shit list and further in the hole. I will fix it, I made the mistake (however unintentional) because my sister was helping us by putting that bill in her name when we found ourselves abandoned and fucked on that front…My last wish was to do something to screw her over but…here we are. And of course, she will tell the entire family, so I will be persona non grata and maybe that’s what I deserve for being a screw up. I could make a dozen excuses and explanations and they’d all be valid, honest, and for real. It doesn’t change anything though. Until I fix it, I am gonna be on the ‘evil bitch’ shitlist with the entire family. And even then, I’ll remain there as her credit as impacted.

The level of embarrassment and shame are enormous. Worse, my kid is staying at their house tonight so who knows what venom they’re spewing to her about me. I’ll have to pick her up and face their wrath and since I am mid-curse, hormonal, and have to also face the donor in court Monday…It will be a miracle if I don’t end up on lockdown in hard restraints. I am just to that point where I have tried so damned hard and I still can’t get it right or be cool, calm, and collected…and I am not whining, I own my screw up, but my precarious mental state kind of goes without saying. In my family, “sorry” and “I will fix it” count for nothing. Everyone is out to tear everyone down. And it is infuriating because my sister has been married to “Beavis” for 20 years, he doesn’t work, doesn’t even mow the damned lawn, and she thinks the sun shines out of his ass.

He idolizes Hitler and Charles Manson, and in a way, that’s how I view him. He’s so charismatic, to a certain faction of gamers and wanna be bikers, he has people willing to pay for weekend white water rafting trips and they loan him $10,000 Harleys to drive but he can’t be bothered to help around the house, EVER, and while he can always wheel and deal for money to take care of their cats or get weed and Marlboros, he’s never given a damn if his kid had no milk for cereal or the whole house was starving. I have nursed my dislike and resentment for 20 years, trying to respect my sister and her ‘he’s my true love, no one else gets me him like I do” but…Honestly, what kind of dickbag has his son come home all proud that he made the honor roll and says, “So what, anyone can make the honor roll these days.” And pretty much EVERYONE in the family hates him, but his mom owns the house my sis and mom and nephew live in, so of course, all lips kiss the ass of the queen. Who enables Beavis to do nothing and yet my sister is constantly having to clean our dad;s house to earn money for food….

So yeah, I fucked up and I will fix it, and I feel positively like shit, but what about that fucking lump? No one holds him accountable, ever, and she preaches his awesomeness and he has a dozen friends who all but worship him but then, that’s his base, the fellow people who when fired from a job sign their final paycheck “fuck you”. So I wouldn’t want to really be accepted in that crowd because, well, douchebaggery isn’t cool even if it is prevalent. So’s Katy Perry and Lady Gaga on the radio, doesn’t make it right or mean I have to endure it.

I’m sure it all sounds too stupid to be true and I just sound bitter cos I fucked up and now I have to own it, but I was feeling this way long before today. Beavis dared to say something about how I don’t take good care of my cats since we had to rehome some of them due to the move and my brain about popped out of my skull. Those cats went to live on like ten acres of farm land where they are fed and watered twice a day and have tons of room to roam and catch mice. I didn’t rehome them out of choice but at least I had the decency to make sure they went to a good place where they’d be cared for. The man has homed several strays I found over the years and they’re all healthy and plump. So to have that p.o.s who doesn’t do a damned thing but play video games all night and piss into empty soda bottles kind of sent over the edge. I’m not making him a caricature like some Mike Judge cartoon, he really is just that….awful. And I hate feeling that way because I love my sister and I don’t want it to come between us, we’ve always been pretty close and on cool footing. But I can’t help but feel the way I do and I’ve felt that way for 20 years. My turning point was when they were doing meth and he actually took her dentures, put them in the toilet and pissed on them. Maybe she can forgive that shit, but man, I’d probably be in prison if he’d done that to me cos I’d have bashed his head against the toilet.

BREATHE.

I’ve never given my blog link to anyone I know in person because years ago, I made that mistake and my sister read some of my thoughts on our fucked up family and she was very hurt and didn’t speak to me for awhile. I don’t want that but bottling it up is poisoning me. Besides…her and mom were pretty smug about knowing from the get that the donor was a fake who would walk out on me and Spook. They have their judgments, same as me. Difference is, I admitted they were right when they were proven right. I’ve been proven right a hundred times about Beavis but I end up being the villain. So much for self awareness and objectivity. I don’t need to be loved that much that I would put up with that shit. If a guy wants to be a house husband and stay home to do housework and child care while the woman works to make money, cool. But a guy who makes the woman work and take care of the kid and take care of the house while he plays video games and rides motorcycles with his wanna be MC…Just writing it makes me need to vomit.

Anyway…Before this all happened…I was having mega anxiety attacks because I realized…OMFG, Spook’s 9th birthday is August 7th. Plus she needs some school clothes plus school supplies…and I can’t do it all and keep the bills paid and now I have this new thing on me….So survival of the fittest and the scared shitless. YEP, another fundraiser. But this one….Just check it out, it’s short and sweet and based on Spook’s own words. I get bogged down with her defiance and anger but the other day when her little friend was here and acting up, she tried to calm him and said, “Listen to my mom. She’s a good mom.”

It’s those little moments you live for, but if I want to keep the power on, it’s not going to get her a Minecraft cake. This one matters a lot, guys, it’s for a little girl who never asked for any of this. She just wants to have a happy birthday and go to school wearing clothes without stains and holes. With all the mindless political fundraisers going on out there..surely a 9 year old girl is worth a $5 donation. Not for me. For Spook.

Pretty please with pegacorn vomit and unicorn farts on top?

The Sandwich Saved Me

What do you do when depression is flogging you and your efforts to fight back take more out of you than give back?

For me, I retreat into binge watching TV shows. This weekend, it’s been both seasons of Jessica Jones, based on a Marvel comic. For the last few years, I’ve been absorbed with the DC comics series like The Flash and Arrow. It never occurred to me Marvel series might have something quirky to offer until I watched this year’s Cloak and Dagger. Now I have two Marvel universes to get lost in when the sandwich isn’t saving me.

Come on, that is hilarious! And kudos to them for season one with David Tenant as the evil villain. Oh I love that man, he brings snark to every character though some of his work has been pretty…shall we say bleak? Or is that just British not-Dr.Who-programming? Nah, I watched the US show Gracepoint with Tenant, he’s a very versatile actor. Easy on the eyes too but it’s always the accent and the snark for me.

I guess I am posting because…I woke again, this morning, and was disappointed that I was awake. Which I guess means disappointed to be alive because dead people can’t wake up, only the living can, so if every single day you are filled with disappointment and dread upon waking…stands to reason something is wrong with your life or your mind. My life is plenty 50 shades of fucked up but currently, I think the depression is just winning 6 out of 7 days of the week. Which I predicted would happen when the doctor refused to up my meds and leave me hanging for three months, but hey, what do I know, I’m just the fucking patient who has to wither in this mental space and watch my life slip away from me.

And it pisses me off and fills me with shame. So many others have it far worse, their lives are far more meaningful than mine, and here I am, feeling like I lost all my limbs when I am abled bodied yet my mind won’t cooperate for shit and honestly, I am about self-bullied out. I am pep talked out. I am shamed out. I WANT THE SANDWICH TO COME SAVE ME NOW.

My kid returned from her zoo outing and ya know what? I’m kind of glad I didn’t take her. All she did was gripe that they couldn’t buy her this and they had to eat hotdogs cos it was the only semi affordable thing then she was griping in the car on the way back so much they actually stopped to buy her a coloring book and crayons to shut her up…And she had the nerve to tell them she thought it was boring at the zoo at one point and damn near made my nephew’s girlfriend cry. Welcome to Spook experience, people, all the work, zero gratitude, and incessant complaints all in hopes maybe once a week you hear the word ‘thank you’ and get a hug. Pfft…If I want to be dissed and hear complaints, it’s called every day of the week. So even a $150 trip to the zoo didn’t please her. Maybe she’s just one of those kids nothing will ever satisfy.

She just found out her little friend next door is going to be moving and she is pretty bummed. They’re gonna stay in Armpit but I guess living with the mother in law and grandma is too much for them, they want their own place and good for them. If I’d had to live with any of my family once I had Spook, blood would have been spilled. Lots, and lots, and lots of blood. I am trying to be supportive and sympathetic for her sake, but she’s having none of it, she wants to embrace her misery in a chokehold. Sigh. I want my misery to fuck off and die in a fire.

I did have a little ‘cool but in a sad way’ moment earlier when she said she was soooo exicted for tomorrow. I asked why and she said because we have the standing pizza date in town. She’s looking forward to taking lunch across the road to the park and eating with her mom….Yeah, right. She’ll take two bites then find another kid or some playground equipment to ditch me for. But she’s looking forward to it and I am too. Thanks to our very good friend Mr. M preordering and buying it for us, I will be getting one wish granted this week-for Marco’s pizza. And it’s so very good and they don’t do a lot of business so I feel like I have to eat there every chance I get before they too are run out of rural hell….Anyway, we love you, Mr. M.

Now back to the final two episodes of season 2 of Jessica Jones. No sandwiches have saved lives this season, but they did have an episode called “Shark in the Bathtub, Monster In The Bed.” Oooh, sharks and monsters and sandwiches, oh my. One of them please save me. God knows my psychiatric care center isn’t doing a damn thing to even try.

And people wonder why I watch so much TV and prefer fiction to reality. Yeah, total mystery. NOT. Bloody hell.

It All Just Sucks

Honestly this is not some boo hoo woe-is-me post, I just couldn’t come up with a better title at the moment. I was too lazy to eat when I woke up so I thought, I’ll do the mood stabilizers later after I do eat but what can it hurt to take the Cymbalta now while I am thinking about it…Well, the hurt is in my gut which is now burning like a mofo, something that was never a side effect when I took the same in the past but now suddenly it is a random thing. As if my burning stress stomach aches and lowering myself to take Pepcid isn’t enough, then playing the “will the pills make me puke or not today’ lottery…Just what I bloody needed. GRRR.

You can spew all your sunshine and wave your pompoms in my face and tell me what works well for you and it’s all about a positive attitude but you know what? It doesn’t change the fact that MEDICATION SIDE EFFECTS EVERY DAY OF YOUR LIFE JUST PLAIN SUCKS.

In a surprise twist the other day after being assaulted by some well meaning but ’caused traumatic flashbacks’ pompom waving…I felt like a loser for a couple of hours and then I realized no one has my permission to make me feel inferior no matter my failings and hey, that includes ME. I was busy beating up on myself because I’ve not found my magic cocktail of unicorn farts, medication, and meditating on clouds made of cotton candy I forgot the most important things of all: we are all different. And I really need to get the stick out of my ass because I suck at being given advice, I take it way too personally and in doing so, I close my mind to some positives I could take away from it. I totes want my uicorn fart magical cocktail but until that happens…I’m gonna keep doing me.

And I surprised me because after the loserpalooza mental state kicked my ass long enough, I started moving around the house. Not because I wanted to but because I was pissed off, because I was sick of beating myself up, because damn it, I am fighting as hard as I can and the pegacorns aren’t barfing rainbows on me so I may as well do something. I folded 7 baskets of laundry and attempted to find a place for it all thus making the middle room look less biohazard-y. (It is very challenging to store things when YOUR IDIOTIC HOUSE HAS NO CLOSETS,FFS, whoever designed this place was a fucking moron.) I cleaned cat boxes, tried to clean floors (epic fail without a working vacuum and fans blowing dust everywhere you just swept or dusted, grrrrr.) The humidity that day was so high I had sweat running down my back, indoors, with the AC. 93 outside, 89 inside, what a joyous life. But I got shit done and it felt good. Hypomania always does, though I sure do miss my full blown mania and oh those delicious but lethal diet pills that kept me looking pretty and so energized I could run 56 hours straight but that’s a story for another (never) time.

I zonked around midnight, only to be wakened three times by the rioting cats who don’t do diurnal…I had a nightmare I jolted from at 4a.m. and could not get back to sleep. So I tried boring myself to it by watching, oh dear god, Martha Stewart glazing a ham. (The horror!) Fail. By 6 a.m. I was doing dishes, counting time til I had to take my kid to my mom’s for her sleepover and outing. Which meant by the time I got my ‘me day’ I spent most of it sleeping because I hit the hypomania wall and when I did wake up, I was up til after 2 a.m. and too tired to do anything I had planned because when planning it, I had assumed I’d be well rested instead of my cycles all fucked up.

Today I am edgy and grumpy. My kid is off to St. Louis with her cousin and his girlfriend for her first ever trip to the zoo. And selfishly, I feel pissed off about it. I want her to be happy, but I feel pissed off that my nephew doesn’t work, doesn’t pay a single bill, his girlfriend just had to resign from her job before they fired her, and still they have all this money to drive so far away and go to the zoo and feed my kid (after they took her out of town shopping last night!) and it’s just not fucking fair that I do all the sacrifice and hard work and I can’t even be included in the fun stuff she gets to do. Me, me, me, I know, but is it so wrong for a parent to want to be with their kid doing the fun stuff? It should be a memory for mom and daughter but no, I’ve got every cent tied up keeping a roof overhead so…

So I am feeling left out and petty and at this point…I’d just be happy if I could afford a damn pizza from Marco’s. Everyone takes Spook out to eat, to swim, to shop, and I am always stuck home, can’t even spring for a damn McDouble. Boo hoo, right? Well, newsflash:parents are people,too, and while we are willing to sacrifice whatever is necessary for our kids to be happy…

Some of us selfish bastards would still like $13 to get a damn delicious pizza.

But knowing my mental state and how the meds are wrecking my body daily..I am glad she has others who financially able to give her what I can’t. Honestly, some of my fondest memories of childhood aren’t of amusement parks or zoos, they’re just the mundane daily things, like playing with a dog, or running through a sprinkler and having ice cream after. Of course, I’m not vapid and my kid kind of is, so her memories will involve everyone but me cos they all have money to do the fun stuff. I won’t begrudge her that. I’d probably have a mental breakdown if I was even sitting in a car in St. Louis traffic (sure would love to see the snakes though, such beautiful creatures.) I still think it’s bullshit that my cousin and his girlfriend don’t have to pay for food or a single expense by living off my mom and my sister. But then isn’t that how everyone views me, living off disability…Difference being, my money isn’t going toward happy fun ball stuff. I prioritize and my kid comes first so if her having food means no trip to the zoo and I’m a downer…so be it.

Really makes me think of everything my parents sacrificed for me and my sister when we were kids. How little they got out of life other than working to pay bills and keep us clothed and fed. Not to mention they hated each other and stayed together for our sake (not a favor) so that had to suck a lot, too. At least I am not stuck with an albatross in my home thus ours is a happier home than what I grew up in.

I still want my Marco’s pizza, though. If I can’t have pegacorn barf and unicorn farts…I just want a damned pizza. I’m shallow and demanding like that.