I fed six shrieking kids last night. Fortunately they sat outside at the picnic table so I didn’t have to do more than cook mac and cheese and provide paper plates and forks. I don’t know why I agreed to it, maybe I was just that glad to have my kid home even though the noise of constant kids is already breaking me down.
Then came drama. My kid opted to play with the older kids two doors down so the devil girls mouthed the older kids then their mouthy loud mother got into it with the devil girl’s father in MY yard and he told me his girls are not allowed to play with those older kids. Fine, but my kid was getting along fine with them prior to his kids showing up. To make matters worse is the race issue, only made an issue by HIS mouthy kids who seem to think skin color is indicative of superiority. Hmm, where did they learn that from?
The shocker was when devil dad invited all four of the posse (I’d call them a gang, but that’s a bad term, too, I guess) plus his own two to sleep over at their house. Not once in 5 years have those parents offered to do ANYTHING, they won’t even let kids in their house supposedly due to a bite-y dog. I was relieved to finally have my kid back but I wasn’t feeling too great (the meds, guess Cymbalta and Wellbutrin together are to blame for my newfound sleepiness and nausea) and my kid’s almost 8 and never slept over anywhere but grandma’s, grandpa’s, and R’s. So I cut the apron strings, in spite of my own anxiety. Their trailer is right behind ours, can see their front door from my step, so it wasn’t like she was miles away. Still…it was a big step for me. Alone time with the dark thoughts is not good right now but I put her needs ahead of my own.
She returned home today at the time I specified and I gave her a shower while she said she stayed up all night and she cried for me, and the other girls made her clean up all their messes but it was okay because they had McDonald’s (why did I feed them all mac and cheese again????). I bathed her and gave her breakfast, within 30 minutes another kid was knocking for her. I tried to play My Little Pony Shopkins with her but the child is so bossy she doesn’t allow free thought. ‘Do this” “Pretend this” “say this”. She needs to learn that if she’s got the story all plotted out and doesn’t want to include others then she can play alone. Awful of me? Maybe. Still. I let her play with Riley and wasn’t five minutes they were asking for food. I hate seeming stingy by saying no but my God, I can’t afford to feed her and me, let alone 6 other kids, day in and day out. And before I get any comments on how I am the adult. duh! I know this. And I realized earlier I would never allow any man or woman to treat me the way that child does. Guess I’m just wishy washy during these deep depressions and she’s likely learned to use that to her advantage. No do-overs here, just cleaning up the mess that’s been made. And in our situation, with limited funds, a crap ass down with zero activities, there’s not much for any of these kids to do during summer but play together. I just don’t know why it has to be my yard. Guess the picnic table replaced the swing set they destroyed as a beacon.
So…Oh what would it be like to write coherently and stay on topic? So I went to sleep-ish at 7 thirty last night…And I say ish because I was up several times but I was so tired (fuck you, meds) I didn’t have the will to stay up. This morning I took my meds and spent two hours trying to stay awake and feeling comatose. Last time I was on Cymbalta, I got hypomanic for a couple of hours afterward. But then I wasn’t on Wellbutrin back then. Guess this mix is just sleep inducing.Which is one of my deal breaker side effects. May be mythbusting time, take away Wellbutrin temporarily and see if the grogginess sticks. Bad Morgue? Yes. But I’m a professional at this shit. Gotta be when your doctor is too busy to be bothered with you.
We ventured out to Dollar Tree. By then all the sunlight and road work and traffic had me so rattled I barely remembered why we went out there. And doing anything with the “I want” monster is hellish. Then a fire truck, cop, and ambulance all appeared in the square, sirens blazing and my first thought, as always, was, “Least it’s not at my house.” That set me off further so I scrapped other errands to come home to safety and try to get my brain on track.
I have a sink full of dishes I am avoiding. Monday I kicked so much ass and now I simply have nothing left. I will try to tackle it all later but Tragic Hate Ball says not to hold your breath.
I just seem to get worse by the day and I don’t even know why. Public outings and noise have always been a trigger but since I had my daughter…it’s like I have dry socket of my central nervous system. Everything is a trigger and my nerves are raw and throbbing when even a breeze blows. It was never this bad before. I don’t blame my kid. It was my old shrink who said the entire pregnancy/birth process could shock my brain better or it could get worse.
I lost that roll of the dice.
I’m not giving up. I read this Hollywood Reporter interview with the lawyer defending Kathy Griffin for the whole bloody Trumpire head picture thing…And she’s getting death threats same as Griffin. She was quoted (and I repeat this loosely), “Yesterday, the devil whispered in my ear that I am not strong enough to survive the storm.”
“Today I told him…I AM THE STORM.”
I like that. I didn’t think a lawyer could say anything that would resonate with me. Who knew.