I’ve always tried to “goofify” the grosser or uncomfy parts of being human so my kid laughs instead of screeches in terror. Like rats in the hair? Nope, those are hair ferrets. Ear infection? Nope, those are taters growing in there. Cough? Don’t go swallowing all them crunchy bones cos they gotta be coughed back up..And runny nose and sneezing..
Sneezle weasels. They are kicking my ass today. I was doing okay when I first woke up. I only wanted my sinus pressurized head decapitated a fraction of what I did yesterday. Nose even seemed to have dried up, cough settled down. Maybe that medicine is working…Oh, but no.
One entry into the petri dish to drop her off and the ALLERGIES attack like demented clowns from outer space and my misery starts all over again.
For this reason, I pondered another “fuck it” day because moving about as required to clean involves stirring up dust and bending and getting the drainage all aggravated. Instead I blackmailed myself into doing the cat boxes with “You may not watch this show until it is done.”
So, yeah, it got done, I even started the laundry. Unfortunately, the sneezle weasels have me tied to the tissue box again thanks to the “dust free” cat litter having, well, dust. For fuck’s sake, I’m one step from living in a plastic bubble and I bet my stupid body would find a way to react badly to that.
Seriously when you feel like such shit you can’t enjoy a damned cigarette…it’s cataclysmic and depressing. Smoking is my one joy in life which decreases or manages my stress, robbing me of that is just so fuck off and die, world. (And no lectures on how it’s unhealthy and nasty and like kissing an ash tray, cos personally, I don’t know why all non smokers going around kissing ash trays so they know smokers taste that way…)
The time change is fucking with me. It’s only 10 a.m. but my internal clock is demanding I go pay rent right now cos I normally have it paid by ten. I have until the 5th, ffs. But I’ve never paid it after the third around noon so I can’t let it slide, no, nope, not one little bit. And after yesterday’s bumper incident…Driving seems pretty fucking daunting and risky to me now. Especially when a random sneezle weasel could attack mid traffic and I could crash into a cement mixer which could pour onto me and encase me in the car…
Okay, drama for humor’s sake,but I seriously am wary.It’s normal, I know, blah blah. Thing is, last time someone smashed into me, I was out and about the whole day, a little shaken but not traumatized. Because I was in a stable mind/nerve place. Right now, I’m a bit like a trainwreck with a plane crash in the mix. When shaky like this, it’s best to limit my exposure to anything that could trigger me. Still gotta pay the rent and fetch the spawn though. Calling Dr. Xanax…
Now, this is in no way a complaint but one of those observations where life throws you a curveball…How is it I get my ductwork fixed so I have heat? And now we’ve got a week of seventy degree weather so I can’t even determine if it’s helping or not? Because it’s warm in here with no heat. Guess making that second appointment for the insulation wasn’t such a bummer, after all. (The guy who got under there said he could not believe how much of it was all loosely connected or completely disconnected, still hoping he doesn’t turn the landlord into city code enforcement, cos then we all be out the in streets. And there’s no indoor plumbing and wifi out there, so nope, no thanks.)
I guess it’s like stroking out for a week in hundred degree weather then you get your AC fixed only for that bitch Mother Nature to swing down into the fifties where the last thing you need or want is air. FFFFUUUUU.
I can’t determine what my mood is cos I have so much sinus congestion I’m not sure I feel anything but a desperate need for my ears to pop. That alone makes “getting on with it” difficult. Like needing to burp. Until it happens, you’re just suspended in miserable lingo going through the motions. Hell, were it not for this sneezle weasel allergy/sinus thing, I might be in a good mood. I can’t tell for my baseline, when physically ill, is to a truly miserable pain the ass cos I can’t deal with this kind of weakness. I’m used to the mental shit. Physically, I’ve always been healthy as a team of oxen hopped up on Red Bull. Getting my ass kicked by some sneezing and a runny nose pisses me off. Badasses do not have runny noses and cough until it hurts so bad they want their mommy.
Stupid asinine pissy little physical ailments turning me into a wuss.
And don’t think it went uncommented by R-sole when I declined Mangoritas and told him how shitty I was feeling. “I guess you won’t be willing to come in and do me a favor…I’ll just get Mark.”
No, “Are you okay?’ No snarking, “No booze, you must be dying!”
Nope just that disappointed father thing like me getting a sinus infection is inconvenient to his needs, business and social. What the fuck ever.
I haven’t had my meds yet today as I ran out and forgot to drop the script off yesterday.Truthfully, a part of me wants all but Xanax to fuck off and die. I mean, all the cool kids are declaring themselves cured without meds, I should just jump on the band wagon, right? Except I tried that, many times, for the same stupid reason, and guess what? Some of us can’t do without mood stabilizers or anti depressants. It may make us less fun, less creative, more mundane yet for those of us who have suffered diagnosed bipolar for ten plus years…We know that for whatever that manic buzz is worth, however long it might last and revive us…There are too few bridges left to burn, all courtesy of undiagnosed bipolar and the raving manic episodes.
So much to my own chagrin, I will go get my meds like a good little girl and choke them down and accept that…much as I want to write and be miss social fucking butterfly (or at least, ya know, take my kid to see a movie without puking)…I can’t afford anymore “off my meds, all cured” delusions of grandeur. I envy those who can. Because likely it means you weren’t at all bipolar but misdiagnosed because doctors hand bipolar for moody adults like they do ADHD for hyper kids. Sometimes, moody is just moody.
But for me…this is the ugly reality. I’ve got no chances left to go off the rails. And I guess the fact that even amidst a soul crushing depression and crippling anxiety period, I can admit I need those soul killing meds, means in spite of whatever is wrong with my brain chemically…I’ve grown up enough to realize what is necessary. Not what is best or what is fun or what is right for Kimmy-Kong and Lamey Amy…
and FYI, don’t anyone go taking that rant personally cos it ain’t about you. It’s about me, always has been. I see others doing well without the plethora of meds and I want to be them, because damn it, I am smart and strong and I am a badass and if they can go off their meds, and be good, then I should be able to, as well…But I can’t. And because I’ ve grown up so much, I won’t.
Just know those who can do it…I envy you. Bad as my life with meds is…it is so much worse without them. Just ask anyone who’s been around unmedicated me. Oh, wait, you can’t cos I ran them all off with my insanity.
Yep.Pills. Refills. No thrills.
I guess if I want thrills I’m gonna have to go old school like Beavis and Butthead and find some hallucinogenic toads to lick.
Maybe the toads will make friends with the sneezle weasels and have some sneezeltoadsels.
