I’m Fine…Keep Telling Yourself That, Dude

After a conversation with R last night in which I propose a compromise where I can somewhat help him keep the shop open without it impacting me financially or emotionally…the positional asphyxia has lessened but only slightly. I am going to try a few hours every other weekday, and we’re going to keep doing the barter thing. I help him out, he hands over the credit card so I can buy gas or cat food or whatnot. And of course, auto repairs.

He was not exactly happy about this arrangement. He kept pointing out that it would cost him potential business, working that whole guilt trip thing but I didn’t back down. I pointed out my last uber meltdown trying to keep up with what he expects me to be, the one where we didn’t speak for 5 months cos I had to remove myself from a situation that was crushing me during a crushing depression.

His mantra? “You’re fine.” He said it over, and over, because he is convinced mental issues are b.s. and that by repeating himself enough he can convince me I am indeed fine. Ha ha ha. Guess what? I’m really not.

Prior to him showing up, I was in fact, about to go ballistic on a yard full of screeching kids. God, the two and a half days Spook was grounded were so peaceful, we didn’t find, the noise was minimal…But she was good and I let her off the hook as planned only to be thrust right back into the drama and demands and the older kids are flocking together and ditching her and she wants me to go tell them they HAVE to include her. Sorry, baby girl, it doesn’t work that way. And she is still harping on those fucking devil girls. Yeah, the ones who can’t play with my kid cos they told their dad I yelled for them to kiss my big fatt butt. No, I was not talking to them, I told them I was not talking to them, but they still went and told daddy and he banned them from having contact with my kid supposedly until I apologize.

Doesn’t work that way, McDouchey “I send my kids to your house in negative 16 degree weather to use your phone to call and demand their grandpa bring me cigarettes”. Not to mention his oldest angel spent one church night in the office cos she kept saying “motherfucker” on the church bus. And this guy wants to make me look like some sort of monster for mouthing back to a teeny bopper that had nothing to do with him or his kids? Nope. Besides, the drama went down 30 points since they got banned from our house and selishly, I like it that way.

Point being, any time my kid plays,it turns into drama and bickering and noise and my nerves start fraying and the nervous stomach ache that has become a constant companion begins churning like cola poured on battery posts. I AM NOT FINE. I am hanging by a bloody thread, whether your itty bitty brain can grasp it. Grrr, the non believers when it comes to mental illness really make me want to grab a shovel and start whacking skulls. (Z whacker is needed now!)

“You’re fine.”

He just kept saying it while trying to talk me into doing it his way. And every part of me wants to declare myself cured and say pushing myself will be good for me, but I’ve lived it long enough to know that’s not how it works for me. I am standing my ground on this one even if it comes served with daily guilt provoking comments from him. Besides, the way this other place works him a few weeks then lays him off then he goes back, lather, rinse, repeat…it’s not worth upending my entire world and shaky equilibrium only to be told, oh, now I don’t need any help so you’re on your own for gas money or whatever.

I am NOT fine. And you are delusional for thinking I am. I am managing and I use that term very loosely. I told my mom the other day that my life has been reduced to nothing but kid drama and lice treatments. And it’s true. I have got to find some peace, find something for myself, something that nourishes my soul and gives me emotional strength. Generally that comes from writing but if I am busy helping him during the hours she is at school and then I can’t get any peace to focus until after she goes to bed by which time I am so beaten down I could be a corpse…

“You’re fine.”

Yep. Totally. That’s why when the fire truck sirens went off awhile ago my first thought was, “Hope they’re not going to my house!” And I actually breathed a sigh of relief to see it go in the opposite direction. This is not normal anxiety, this is not rational thought. Daily stomach aches aren’t just part of life. I have legitimate disabilities and limitations and no one resents it more than I do but it is what it is. And I warned him should I melt down because it happens every winter…You don’t get to to play the ‘how could you let me down’ card.

In other news, I was supposed to have a child support check today. No check. WTF? First thought is, “Donor quit his job and absconded”. Second cheerier thought (yeah, I’m going to hell, whatver) “Hey, maybe he died!” Seriously though, aside from holidays the deposits have been like clockwork so a little panic is warranted. Then again it could be something as simple as his employer’s pay period not fitting the normal schedule and it could be there tomorrow. IDK.

I still haven’t heard back from social security about whether I ‘qualify’ for my request for a new social security card from the on line application. That makes me nervous but we all know the governt moves at the speed of snail unless it’s the IRS then they’re cheetahs.

So many things making me uneasy. Worry leads to worse anxiety which leads to physical symptoms which worsens the depressive feelings…

I’m not fine.

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