Oh, yes. I am far too rapid cycling to be either a hot mess or a cold mess thus I am…a lukewarm mess.
Yesterday about did me in. Five hours in the dish just being someone’s “friend” and fetching lunch and such…By hour three, in spite of having crystal clear Lithium brain, my central nervous system was clawing at the walls screaming TAKE US BACK TO THE SAFE BUBBLE! With such anxiety, every hour felt like an eternity to be survived. Yes, I know, that is the anxiety disorder distorting things. It makes zero difference. When I am in that “delicate” place and forced to go to stores, answer phones, talk to dish dwellers…I feel like a deer caught in headlights. Too terrified to move thus I freeze and get run over. R had me call one woman to give her a quote on her tv…and she actually screamed at me, “Son of a bitch, I can buy a new one cheaper than that!”
These locals have the manners and sense of belly button lint. Because if you can buy a sparking new 42 inch plasma for under two hundred fifty dollars…You’re fucking special.
Then it was time to go get my kid. I parked in a different place as it seemed less traffic was there. Except my car got caught on the melting snow and slush and it gave a jerk of resistance when I tried to move it. Instant panic. But I figured, let it go, you’ll get out. THEN some jackhole parked right behind me with maybe one inch space between us and all I could do was barely breathe and feel convinced once I started the car and it gave that little jerk to get out of the snow…I’d bump back into them thus having to call the cops and ruin my mom’s insurance and…
Remembering to breathe isn’t as easy as it seems.
So I went to fetch her, and as usual her class was the last to exit…Which meant me standing by the fence as far from the pukage of pink and orange and Elsa and Anna backpacks…But still the little dweller minis came near in throngs, shrieking and having fun in the snow….UGH. I felt like I was in a tiny room with the walls closing in on me. If it sounds ridiculous…You don’t understand how real panic truly is. And I reiterate for the billionth time, my aversion to bright colors is not some goth/depressive affectation. My brain literally finds bright color overwhelming. LIke a short circuit.
We finally got home. I asked her to give me ten minutes of peace, for I needed a Xanax and to just breathe. Instead, she keeps batter ramming my brain with insane questions (and no, it’s not simple six year old curiosity, she literally babbles about NOTHING because she can’t stand a moment of not being the center of attention.) and I was trying to read email. I asked, nicely, six times, for her to go play with a cat or draw or something just for a few minutes. She didn’t let up on the yapping for more then fifteen seconds, just kept at it.
And, admitting this with no pride and much shame, I just snapped and yelled, “WHAAAAT??????”
She’d just pushed me to my brink. I still don’t think asking for ten minutes of peace is unreasonable after a day in the dish and all my anxiety…Yet she has this way of making me feel neglectful and cruel just for wanting two minutes to pee with the door closed and her not talking to me. I wonder if this guilt stems from the bipolar and its distortions. Often when I thought I was being reasonable I was being anything but. The sacred pegacorn couldn’t have convinced me otherwise in that moment of time. Later it would hit me and I’d feel so shitty and stupid…
I don’t think that’s what this is. Ten minutes of peace. I made sure she had a drink and snack, she wasn’t neglected. She’s just a very virulent strain of child and not even the CDC could handle her at times.
After Xanax and a cool down period, I sat her down, apologized for raising my voice, and TRIED to explain to her that mommy has medical issues and when I ask for space, I really need to have it or otherwise…I do bad things like yell. That’s on me,but it doesn’t give her the right to blatantly defy me.
Things calmed a little after that. We let a new stray cat in (He’s black and white and Oreo is just too cliche, so I am calling him Hydrox- generic Oreos) and she started torturing, er, playing with him. I called the doctor’s office to check my blood work. All was well. I then explained about the insurance situation on some of the meds and the nurse said she’d talk to the doc and get back to me.
It was such a relief to know the labwork was normal. I always get paranoid that when they run like kidney and liver function tests, I’m going to get bad news. I am so scared of getting bad medical news I avoid doctors and lab work like the plague. As long as all bodily functions remain normal and I am upright…Cool. If I have something fatal going on, I truly don’t wanna know. To give you an idea just how pathological this fear of basic healthcare has become…I used to love watching Mystery Diagnosis. Now, I can’t even make it through ten minutes before full fledge freaking out begins. Hell, even on the cases involving men who have body parts I don’t… scumbag brain started whispering, “what if you’re one of those who’re born with outer female genitalia but internally you have testes, you could have teste cancer…”
Yes, laugh it up. From the outside, it is pretty hysterical. On my side of the fence…Not at all funny, just embarrassing and not being able to “kick” the fear leads to shame and feeling weak. The fact that I asked to go back on lithium, knowing it would involve lab work, has to tell you just how desperate this last depressive cycle has me.
Once all calmed down yesterday, I put a Wednesday 13 playlist on my phone-that-is-only-a-wifi-device and took my bluetooth water speaker to the kitchen. The music helped me work up the gumption to do all the dishes. Of course, for all Spook;s “I love to rock out!” she tried talking over the music. If a child is loud enough to drown out Wednesday’s razor blade gargling music…She needs a fucking volume switch.
But I got dishes done. And that was all I did. I fed her, then I whipped up some quick and cheap meatball subs for myself. They were delicious, probably the best ones I’ve ever made. Spook, who ate subs like they were candy back in 2014, suddenly doesn’t like meatballs anymore and so she said ewwww and insisted on a tv dinner of chicken nuggets and fries. I did make her eat a couple of Cutie oranges to throw some actual nutrition in.
We did story time and snuggle buggle time. We ran out of Melatonin and I knew I’d never get her to sleep otherwise…so bad parent that I am, I ceded on her grounding and let her watch her dvd player. It really does help put her to sleep, fuck whatever these so called parenting experts say. She comes by it naturally because my mom falls asleep to TV, I fall asleep to shows on my computer…I just have to make sure it’s nothing that’s going to interest me enough to keep me awake. Thus I keep replaying the same Forensic Files/48 Hours episodes. And Deadly Women, cos the narrator’s voice is soothing.
The dvd worked, she went to sleep in a half hour, slept in her own bed all night. YAY. I was wiped out, took a Restoril 15 at 7:45. And waited. And waited. Does this shit ever kick in??? He told me to take it earlier , well, that is earlier. My luck if I took it any sooner, that’d be the time it’d kick in uber fast and my kid would be running riot while I lay zonked off my ass.
Come morning, my head hurt so bad and I was so groggy it felt like my entire body was made of lead and I couldn’t even slither out of bed. NOPE. Fuck you, Restoril, I will just take melatonin or suffer. WHY can’t big pharma ($90 billion a year industry, yes NINETY BILLION!) make a sleep med that doesn’t give you a hangover? I’d be better off drinking a Mangorita at bedtime, least then I don’t wake up feeling like a marching band trampled my skull.
To add to my stress…I was supposed to go help N with her new computer yesterday except I’d agreed to that before R’s request for company (he bought me smokes, lunch, and cat food). Well, I forgot about it, especially after the anxiety freak out, and she called THREE times last night between 8 and 9:30. I didn’t answer it and that makes me an asshole but really…Her brother in law bought her the damned new computer, came to her house and had it all set up and working right and an hour after he leaves, she does something and suddenly it won’t work. And it’s Windows 10. Barf. She wants everything done now and for free…
I couldn’t cope. I still don’t feel like coping because I am still recovering from yesterday. Yet had she called Tuesday when I had that few hours of perfect clarity and feeling quite strong and capable…
GRRRR. Sometimes I wanna stab my brain with a spork laced with arsenic.
On a sad note…RIP, Alan Rickman. I will always love his most excellent portrayal of Hans Gruber in Die Hard….
And in the category of a day late and a dollar short..
Yesterday was Wednesday January 13.
Wednesday 13. MY deity.
I wanted to do this yesterday but then I melted down and ya know how it goes…
So here comes the dirty mouth part. And no, I blame no one for being too frightened to click or clicking then shrieking in terror…Wednesday’s shock rock is an acquired taste. One I am sooo glad to have acquired, his music makes me happy. He’s like Alice Cooper, only funnier when he’s swearing and talking about death and the macabre. (And I worshiped Alice Cooper, so this is high praise for Mr. 13.)
This was originally done with Wednesday’s band Frankenstein Dragqueens from Planet 13 but then he did a solo revamp and I prefer this version. I sing it loud,I sing it proud, and…I LOVE TO SAY FUCK.
If you’ve ever gotten an email from me and wondered what that signature at the bottom means…WWWD? It means What Would Wednesday Do?
He’s my music person.