I don’t know how else to describe how I feel today. Guess “adrift” will work. Kinda floating aimlessly, feeling overwhelmed and unclear. Kind of  sucky title, though. I’m usually more creative. Guess my creative bone is MIA same as my sanity. On a side note, I took my meds, without food, and I got so nauseous I gagged. I tried to eat, got two bites in, and was gagging again. Oh, the joys of happy pills. Ass trash clown shoe side effects.

Had a panic attack right out of the gate this morning. My kid started her blubbering whiny “I just wanna sleep” then came the wardrobe fit and yelling at me because I told her to put her glasses on, eat breakfast, then brush her hair. And the louder she got, the more attitude she flung at me…I started to hyperventilate. I had to cup my hands over my mouth and focus on breathing, which did not go over well with her. It’s like she wants to make it worse. Yes, I know, I am distorting. It’s just not a pleasant way to start the day.

I capitulated last night and  took her to play with L. It was a mistake because now I am so drained and overwhelmed, I feel the crushing need to stay in all day and vegetate. But his highness wants company. Honestly, the things I will do for a pack of smokes.(I have zero problem rolling my own, saves an ass ton of money, been doing it for over ten years but occasionally a smokey treat I didn’t roll is niiiice.)

It never ceases to amaze me just how fucked up I am, considering hanging out with a friend a hardship. This is what others live for, it’s fun, it’s called living, it’s mentally healthy. Yet it kills my soul. And I refuse to be convinced that it’s some sort of crime to prefer quiet alone time as opposed to the noisy socializing thing. Introversion is not a disorder.

Last night was…fail-ish. I had a Mangorita, then switched to the Margarita premix minus alcohol. Placebo effect. I think margarita, my brain thinks “alcohol” and the fact there’s zero booze in it seems to not matter. L kept calling me mommy, because she hears Spook call me that and R went off on that, saying it couldn’t be allowed to slide or his daughter the psychologist would kick my ass. Blah blah blah. I think some people just make too big a deal out of little things kids do. I get a kick out of the way L comes rushing at my kid, yelling SPOOKY and they hug and giggle. It makes me smile. Little makes me smile, ya know, where the smile reaches my eyes. It reminds me of how much those little things mean, the very things the donor dismissed so harshly.

We watched Arrow. Or as much as we could.  L wanted to have a pillow fight with my kid and whacked her with one which sent Spook into a meltdown and R pulled out the satan voice on L. She told him to leave her alone. And it was off to the races. He got down on her level, in her face, and said, “I treat you no differently than I treated my own kids. You will NOT defy me again.”

I am awful. I had to hide my face behind my hand because the more he laid down the law, the more she grinned and flopped about and completely blew off the time out. And that’s what I do to this day. Roll my eyes, smirk, feel compelled to rebel. And of course, he made it clear that’s why my kid is so poorly behaved and his kids are so successful and educated and their kids are so well behaved and…Oh shut the fuck up. I was there for two years when his kids were little. For his memories of them “never defying” him I have memories of the older two defying him at every turn. The youngest was just a sweetie pie but those older girls…I guess if he has to admit they defied him he somehow loses face as a good parent. Oddest thing was, he went out of his way to defy his parents when he was a kid and brags about it. Hypocrisy’s greatest hits.

WARNING: This next paragraph could indicate spoilers in Arrow so if you have not watched last night’s episode, run screaming now. But it is relevant.

R was always this big Trekkie, big with the logic and coldness. I called him Spock because he was so emotionless. He touted “needs of the many outweigh the needs of the few” until I almost puked. And he hasn’t changed a bit. Because during one scene last night in which a badass woman was forced into some daddy imposed gender role…I said, why doesn’t she just kill him? I’d be damned if my dad determined who I’d marry and breed with.

And R asks, “Have you not ever done anything for the good of others in spite of your own needs?” Um…I once lived on Cheese nips for a week so I could spend what cash I had on cat food. I wear clothes with holes in them so I can spend money on nicer things for my kid. Sacrifice is one thing. Being bullied into basically sacrificing your entire belief system (and I am fairly certain forcing a lesbian to marry a man qualifies) is not acceptable and no, I will not do it. Prince fucking Charming Checkbook could knock on my door, declare he wants to be my kid’s stepdad and spend exorbitant amounts of money on us…And if I didn’t at least feel something for him…No, I would not choose money and a father figure for my kid over my own needs. Selfish? Maybe.But as a child of parents who stayed married for 28 years for the sake of the kids, even though they hated each other, agreed on nothing, put us in the middle of their fights, and sent us very mixed messages..That’s in no one’s best interests. So hell no. I can make sacrifices for the good of others. I just won’t strip my own identity and make things worse by simply fitting into some societal norm of “two parent household.”

In all honesty, the fact R and I could get into a spat over a plot line from a TV show is asinine. But it proves the point of why we never worked together. Such fundamental core beliefs at odds is just doomed from word go. And it describes every relationship I’ve ever had in the long term (all three of them.) I get sucked into what is socially acceptable and expected and try to convince myself I feel that way for someone, or I can make myself feel it…And thus the vicious cycle of failed relationships begins. Probably why I am so content on my own. If I found someone I meshed with (and I don’t care if it’s male or female) I’d be on it like white on rice. I just think settling for what is there because it’s expected is bullshit.  I want to break that cycle. Plus, the men in this town are not known for their ability to commit and ride out the rough patches. I refuse to bring someone into Spook’s life that may be gone six months down the road. And you get a feel of who is that kind of person. Her donor being the prime example. Not going to make that mistake again.

Okay…I went off on a stupid tangent, obviously the focalin isn’t doing its job today. Whatevs. Clown shoes.

There was a moment last night when he was prattling on about how successful and productive members of society his kids are…And I sneered, “That’s totally not offensive to someone on disability with no job who’s half crazy and always broke.”

To my astonishment he gave me this sympathetic look and said, “I’ve met your family. You never stood a chance from the word go, Nick.”

Very very true. I was messed up in utero. But for all my epic fails and instability, I take the lemons I am given and occasionally make a nice pitcher of lemonade.

And with R, even if he’s in absolute denial, he’s gotten his financial stability from two mega inheritances from dead family members. It’s easy to build a portfolio and all when you have seed money to start with.(His kids are going to inherit $40,o0o grand each lus all his property.)  Yes, he’s always worked hard but still…He got breaks financially others do not. And frankly, if I were him, I wouldn’t feel all that fortunate either, considering it was the loss of his dad and grandmother that paid out. Just…sometimes it irks me when he says shit like, “Don’t have two coppers to rub together, do you?” I get it. I’m poor. Shut the fuck up.

It’s just a clusterfuck. R and I are so different. Yet we know each other so well customers assume I’m his wife. A guy asked that the other day and I said, “Ohhhh hell no.” Guess it’ a testament to both of us being decent enough to remain friends and not let our fundamental differences rule. I suppose he’s not so bad. Then  again, I’d befriend Hannibal Lecter ‘cos he cooks.

Needless to say, I went, I saw, I remember why I don’t socialize much. It really takes more out than it gives back. And less than my personality, I think the mental shit is what makes it so harrowing and draining. Without the anxiety and different mind frames from day to day I might actually perceive social stuff as fun. I’ll never know. I am not my mental illness(es) but I can’t have them removed so I keep making that lemonade.

I am stunned he’s not texting me. I soo need to recharge, not go get more life sucked out of me. But I suppose I will capitulate. My kid is sleeping over at mom’s tomorrow night so that will be my reboot. Or maybe not. Pretzel gut has me feeling rather nasty in body and mind. I wish I didn’t get so overwhelmed, I feel so weak. But there comes a point when you’ve pushed yourself as far as you can go and need a break. Life in the slow lane suits me fine, let everyone else take the freeway.

Back to…Um..dreading stuff and things. I already feel like the Latuda is heightening my anxiety and after that usually comes a manic episode. I am loathe to admit another med failed me as the doctors seem to think I’m just into musical meds and ass trash side effects.

Clown shoes.

Sorry for the epic rant. I suck. I rock the sucking thing. Oh, well. Can’t have blog without the bog.