I don’t even know what to title this post.
I just know I picked up my kid and now my mood is in the toilet. And it’s nothing to do with her because she pretty much to nap as soon as we got through the door.
Earlier, I was fine. Lowish but the cold and gloom explain that.
This abrupt descent into shivering cold, super sleepy, irritated, nervous, and all around mentally FUBAR has me reeling. Nothing happened. NOTHING. I don’t get this shit.
I don’t even know why I am bothering to post because I don’t even have anything to say. Not even a disjointed rant. I may be dying, I can always work up a good rant.
What. The. Fuck. I’m gonna try anyway.
I look at the coming weeks and inwardly, cringe.
My dad is on my ass to get my kid’s glasses replaced. I have $1.70 to my name. He isn’t offering any money up. The insurance won’t pay. All I can do is ask around at some charities but they’re not open on weekends so what the fuck he expects me to do is beyond me. I take care of my kid, I will deal with it. I resent his interference when he had so little to do with my nephew as a child. I don’t get why he’s up in my face when I am 41 years old and have managed to quite well since the donor walked out.
Oh well, it’s not a surprise my dad is a douche. I’ve had a loathe/hate relationship with him for years.
Mom was less venomous the last two days. Which means…she’s cooking up a new batch and saving it for when I least expect it.
Probably Thanksgiving. Best to strike and poison with an audience. I dread that fucking family day of hell every year and it’s creeping up fast.
I need about three hundred dollars to get this stupid car transferred and R, even though he has promised to help since it was his advice that got me to buy a lemon that blew up after 18 months…I’ve yet to see this help.
I’ve got Christmas coming up and I don’t know if I will even be able to get my kid a hand ful of junk from Dollar Tree.
I knew if I tried I could work up a rant.
It’s gotten to the point where I am ready to take up web cam foot porn if it generates income. I’m going further under than ever before and it’s pissing me off. Unfortunately, foot porn won’t work well for me since i have big ugly feet.
Maybe some perv would pay to see me make out with a balloon. Fetishes have gone off the insane o meter.
Point being…I am desperate. I am fed up. I am sinking under this current mind frame and all I want is to curl up in a warm bed and go to sleep. But I can’t sleep because I have all this other shit I gotta try to work out a plan to use to tackle it all.
Every holiday season it’s like this.
Every year I sweat and stress and go a little crazy.
Every year comes Jan 2 when all the fuss is done with and life can finally return to some semblance of normal dysfunction as opposed to added stress that the holidays bring.
I’m still low as fuck and have no idea why. There truly is no rhyme or reason to mental illness.
Bipolar disorder needs to die in a fire.