Yeah, okay, my humor is twisted but today…I am talking about a different kind of twisted. The anxiety induced kind.

My stomach is in pretzels and they’re doing this whole gymnastics routine that is both incovenient and painful. My brain is racing between “it’s not so bad” and “omg, the fucking sky IS falling.”

Good- social security approved my request for a new card. Yeah, it’s stupid to sweat something so basic but it’s what I do, I sweat the big stuff, little stuff, it’s called being high strung with a massive anxiety disorder.

Bad-still no child support. Now this perhaps makes me look like some money grubber but when you live hand to mouth, budgeting is crucial so if The Donor (hmm, giving him a title with capital letters seems too generous) has quit his job, switched jobs, become unemployed, gotten sick, or (please please) fled the country or died…I need to know. If I’m not getting child support, then my income status changes and I have to report it to public aid for the food stamps and healthcare thing. And if he has switched jobs that would render his old insurance on her useless and yeah, as the mom, I kinda need to know this shit. So it goes beyond simply “show me the money”. It’s logic. Unfortunately, I wasted an hour on the phone with two different departments of the state that handle the payments and enforcement and no one can tell me a damn thing except when the last payment was made. Which, duh, I know, cos I look at my debit card statements.

I suppose I could call where he is supposed to be working and ask for him, and if they say he’s no longer employed…But no, that causes more stomach acrobatics and panic and last time I called and did get him on the phone to simply inquire if his insurance covered her dental care…He was all rigid with that simpery but hate twinged voice making it clear I am a quasi stalker for calling his job. Which has happened once in what 9 years? But that’s his mentality, he ditches a woman, she can’t even try to bring his stuff to him or he reports her as a stalker. As if I care enough to flatter him or any other man for that matter.

There was more trailerhood drama last night. Found out two sex offender list dudes are living there and they favor small children. Like my paranoia wasn’t high enough. I am gonna have to put my kid in a Zorb ball til she’s flipping 18. Then S’s mom explained to me that S has ADHD, she’s on the autism spectrum, and she has an anxiety disorder so sometimes she goes off and says things she doesn’t mean…Hello, bipolar panic ridden chick here, I get it.

Unfortunately, Spook did not when S said something mean to her and came home bawling. I tried to explain it to her but she’s 8, she barely comprehends others have feelings except for herself so explaining mental disorders is like talking to a head of lettuce. Then I agreed to watch S while her mom ran out and I swear, I saw them at the patio table playing nicely and the next thing I know I’ve got this angry woman in my yard ranting at me that S tried to kick her daughter R and she witnessed herself. Like I am supposed to discipline another person’s child? I mean, I saw the girls went to the edge of the yard but I didn’t hear any bickering or crying or see any kicking. But if S was being honest and had missed a dose of meds, I could see her totally going off and kicking someone. So the angry mom (who is actually the girl’s aunt, like I should know this shit) tells me to have S’s mom come talk to her the minute she got home. Which meant me texting S’s mom and having to explain this all happened on my watch.

Got no reply. Guess my supervision will no longer be requested. Wasn’t my kid kicking people, though. Guess I gotta watch the 10 year old even more closely than my 8 year old. WTF, I don’t need all this drama.

Now I sit at the shop and can’t decide whether to risk getting lunch because I am hungry but my stomach is already so upset, good could make it worse. And with child support in the air and the car running funky and all the other expenses coming up…Keeping on R’s good side by helping here seems pretty damned wise. And besides…way that other outfit works him for a few weeks then doesn’t…Maybe I can stand being out of my safe space a few days a week. Hell, I managed almost 8 hours yesterday, including running errands after being gone all day. Normally I rush home to make sure the house hasn’t burned or been burgled or the cats haven’t gone nuts and eaten each other….Yesterday because of the child support not being there, I was all calculator brain and it seemed to save on gas and mileage on the car to just pay net and rent while already out rather than go home then have to run 6 miles one way, then 6 miles the other turning it into a 24 mile trip when doing it as I did made it only 11 miles.

My brain is hypo, I am all over the place rambling. Maybe I need a fundraiser so I can afford Focalin, it’s the only thing that keeps scumbag brain from ping ponging around in my skull those turning me into a rambling incoherent ass clown.

So, yeah, I am all twisted in knots today and actually, it’s pretty much been that way for the entire summer sans the blessed days she was grounded and he wasn’t telling me that I am fine. I WANT to be fine. But deep down I know that I am far from it. And it’s nobody’s fault really, it’s just the disorders I have that make coping with daily aggravations like noise and kid drama so stress inducing that it impacts me physically. Living with that is never going to make me fine.

But hey, I’ve survived 44 years,so…wing and a prayer.

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