That title sounds soap opera-y but then, I grew up second hand absorbing my mom’s love of daytime soaps as a young kid. To this day I remember characters and actors from Young and The Restless, Days Of Our Lives, Another World, All My Children. My brain is a steel trap for inane pop trivia yet the stuff that could prove useful…poof, gone in ten seconds never to return.
Another fine gray dreary wet day in the ninth circle of midwest hell. This is not good for depression. Week after week we have maybe 2 sunny days which leaves 5 gray days a week to wreak havoc on my mental state and drag me further down the rabbit hole. Joy. It’s a catch 22 for me, because I find sunlight hurts my eyes and sometimes makes my skin itch and feel like it’s burning, yet for my moods, sunlight is important and I’ve come to accept that to my own chagrin. Though what all the professionals psychobabble about seasonal depression being solely due to shorter sunlight hours is bunk. For me, it’s a factor, and a relevant one, but also the inability to ever get truly warm for 5 months of the year is a mega hindrance to my functionality.
I could not get to sleep last night even though I took a melatonin and felt sleepy. The minute I put my head on the pillow…my mind started churning, the anxiety started building. I did my usual self soothe ritual of counting backwards in odd numbers from 1000…By the fifth time I was downright pissed off because I wasn’t the least bit sleepy so I got up and watched an episode of Castle. I was still awake at 1:30. Then I woke several times during the night and I’ll be damned if I remember why. Come morning and sensing that it was light out (gray as it is) I pulled the covers over my head as this is the one day of the week I can at least sleep til 8 a.m. and it was only 7:30. Never mind going back to sleep, the brain was out of the gate like a racehorse-bucking bull hybrid, thoughts spinning, panic setting in, the thought of failing my child by ending up homeless paralyzing and terrifying. And then my kid was up so time to make the doughnuts, so to speak. Be mommy and all.
We ran some errands, though we had to wait ninety minutes for stores to open. During which my kid channeled satan with impatience to go spend the dollar grandma gave her. When she goes into jackass mode, there is no reasoning with her. Honestly, I am tired of the ‘perfetly normal for a child that age, just a phase”. If I recall, people suspected Jeffrey Dahmer was just going through a phase when he started tine torturing and dissecting animals. At some point a phase is actually a warning sign that something is amiss. With my kid, I think it’s some sort of oppositional defiance thing because the word ‘no’ sets her off.Probably why in all my depressions and anxiety bouts I’d eventually let her wear me down to keep my sanity. I am no longer the yes monster, though, trying to repair the damage done by my perpetually altered mental status. It’s not shirking responsibility, I created the monster to some extent (my family did not help at all) so I am working on correct it. Can’t say I am fond of having bags of quarters swung at my head for simply saying “No, we’re not going out today, we’ll do it tomorrow.” She’s kind of a ticking bomb sometimes.
At the same…she is my joy. She is love, and I beam when we are interacting without all the drama or my depression and anxiety infused self doubt. She is an amazing kid, so smart, so creative, and while maybe my nurture was only a factor…Knowing I haven’t completely screwed her up in 8.5 years in spite of all the struggles…It’s nice to feel like I’ve done one thing right.
Errands all done, which is good, cos the spitting snow and rain and gloom really bring me down. And I’m not talking ‘ooh, bummer, dude”. I mean total mood sabotage, as in one minute I am ‘managing’ and the next I feel like I am sinking. Oh, depression, you gift that never stops giving. I wish you would, really. Because your idea of giving is actually TAKING, robbing me of basic functions that come so easily to others. I may have to learn to live with you, but I will never ever welcome you or consider you any kind of benefit, you cockweasel.
(I know, I spew venom like a cobra, isn’t it awesome?)
And FYI, for the ignorant sans empathy alleged human beings who think mental illnes is a weakness or an affectation or we’re lazy and ‘faking it’…It is my fondest wish you get some invisible illness that hinders your existence and others view you the same as they view those with mental disorders. Walk in those toe pinching blister causing shoes a week and you’d be crying uncle.
I am having one of my ‘deer in the headlights’ days, meaning the anxiety is so bad I feel like moving from my spot in my bedroom crypt will result in catastrophe. It’s irrational, but then so is throwing up over the side of a gambling boat on a date cos the panic is so overwhelming it elicits a physical response. Anxiety disorders make zero sense but one thing I’ve learned in spite of all the gobbledygook the professionals spew…if you get anxious and it’s just your personality…maybe you can retrain your neural pathways and go all cognitive and mindfulness and be all better. But when your anxiety is constant, differing only in severity, sometimes based on outside stimuli, often with no clear trigger…that is a disorder and it is crippling, It distorts your thoughts, makes you have irrational fears, causes trust issues, and often makes you feel like you’re a lost cause. Oh, the lies our disordered brains tell us. And when they do it while we’re down the rabbit hole…we’re just vulnerable enough to either believe them or at least ponder their voracity. Living in perpetual self doubt and confusion, and having the mental health, er ‘behavioral management’ regime more often than not having zero clue and not wanting to buy one…It’s not a quality existence.
My dad darkened my doorstep today and asked if I found a place to live yet. It’s been TWO days of looking and I’ve already gotten 8 unfeasible or unavailable responses. The man has no grasp on the reality of my situation. To his credit (sarcastic emoji here) he gave my kid $2 to blow on junk food and offered me nothing even though he knows I am low on phone time and penniless. Feel the love. Hell, if they’d help me a little even with money for talk time and gas, I’d cook them a good meal or come clean their house…I am willing to barter with whatever I have to offer. To not even be offered that chance by my own family…But I don’t work and in my dad’s book that makes me a lazy non person. He has bragged so many times how he’s 71 and still works everyday, I want to slap him with a rotting mackerel. It’s not my fault he’s a workaholic. It’s not my fault that he can never seem to save up enough money to make himself feel better. I’ve stood by my kid, kept the same roof over her head 9 years, and that’s more than my parents did for me. Oh, we were clothed and fed, but it seemed we were moving every year or two. 8 different places in two different towns before I was 13. Maybe they didn’t have a choice, or money, but I think with all that counts against me and no help from the donor…I am due a little respect for all I have managed to do in spite of my detriments. But nooo, not with my dad.
This post was supposed to be brief but…I guess I’m like Stephen King via his ‘Making of Rose Red” video. “I’m more of a putter-inner than a taker-outer.” Rambling and ranting is my therapy and contrary to what my inept psych team thinks…it’s a wonderful method of exorcising my demons. And while I do wish I had followers who were more interactive as far as clicking like or commenting because if I help even ONE person struggling with mental issues feel less alone…it does my heart good and I’d like to think it does them good and that’s just something, as a writer, a sufferer of mental disorders, and as an empathetic human…I’d like to hear about.
So that’s the purge of the scumbag brain,
Now comes the reminder of the ‘help us find a home’ fundraiser which has raised ZERO dollars in 4 days. It amazes me how people donated to help get my cats vet care or help me license a car and yet I am facing homelessness with an 8 year old and not one person cares to donate or even just share on social media with a bit of my story…I am sure a large percentage think it’s a scam but I have posted on the gofundme page the paper declaring us out if we can’t buy. We have no choice and this was no screw up of my own, it was a doublecross by a lying sociopath landlord and a soulless management company hell bent on ridding themselves of low income ‘trashy’ tenants. If you have an ounce of humanity, even if you don’t have a dollar to spare, please click the picture of my daughter below and at least check out the page and pass it on social media if possible. Or reblog even. ANYTHING could possibly help and if you read my prior entries, you will know my story never varies. I am honest to my own detriment at times telling it like it is and how broke we are.
Look at this little girl and tell me she deserves to be homeless just because her mom is disabled and has limited income and her father is a working deadbeat unwilling to see her or pay a cent even when ordered by the court.
Remember…even a $5 donation from several people can help and I am always willing to provide receipts for every cent received and spent.
All I want is to do right by my daughter.