Foot in mouth disease

I survived without blow ups.

But my blah mood resulted in  several instances of opening mouth and inserting foot. I was offered leftover chicken cordon bleu.

Five minutes later I made the comment, “I’m chickened out.”

Then I dared to voice my sentiments on religion to the church going R. Bad idea. He liked it to going to the doctor because you’re sick, pointing out, “Why do YOU see a psychiatrist?”

I pointed out if you are sick but never take steps to get better and improve what is wrong, then how useful is going to get help?

Never ever discuss religion. I should stick to that. I have no problem with people having faith. But if you break every commandant every day and still go to church every Sunday with no effort to change your “sinful” behavior, then that’s like going to a doctor and remaining sick because you refuse to take the pills he prescribed. It’s an excuse to do shitty things and feel less shitty about doing them repeatedly. I am not cool with that. This whole notion that as long as you confess your sins you are absolved pisses me off.

And there I go, spouting off, sticking both feet, socks and all, into my mouth.

Then when I went to pick up my kid, she was having  a tantrum and my mom snarked, “She doesn’t pull that shit with me but you let her get away with it, that’s YOUR fault.”

And I softly murmured, “Because I am afraid if I correct her in front of you, you will start yelling.”

Which she is patented for doing, does it with my sister’s kid every hour of every day.

So she went off on me and said, “Get out.”

I should know better than to open my mouth, even to defend or explain myself. You cannot say anything to that woman. And ten people have told her the same thing I have and we’re all wrong and she’s right.

It makes me wonder if I am bip0lar at all. Maybe I just learned the bad behavior from her and I really am that despicable for people to deal with.

Except meds make me better and I am aware of my failings and try to do better every single day so I truly don’t believe my issues are all personality and learned behavior.

I still can’t help but think, wow if that’s what being on the other side of me is like, no wonder men run screaming into the night. Unfortunately, I can’t because she is my mom. I don’t even know if she is going to babysit tomorrow she in such a pouting cursing tantrum mode.

Funny thing is, I got my kid to the car, scolded her, and we have had a decent evening. I think this is a small kid manipulating because she can and she knows it starts trouble. And since my mother will never change, I have to. I just don’t know how. And on this matter, my counselor is of no help beyond “consistency is the key.” Hard to have that when I am required to spend thirty plus hours a week away from her while she runs riot at mom’s house of fun and no rules. Hell, she gave my three year old a ten pound metal pair of binoculars to play with. If you dropped them on your toe, you toe would break. But she thinks it’s ok. How can I even begin to fight that losing battle?

Which leads to my what my sister asked me, “why do you go to the shop if you’re not getting paid?”

Because the man was there and spent over $400 on car parts and did the work himself when I needed help. I can’t afford to burn that bridge. I know as long as I help him out, he will help me out. And frankly, since no one will hire me to even cook french fries, it’s all I have right now. I would love to tell him no, at least four days a week, I hate being there when all I am there for is to answer phones, write up tickets, and order parts. Most of which amounts to about four hours of work out of forty. I don’t think I am fit to work though I am getting there but daily I keep hoping one place where I applied would call and get me out of freebie slavery.

I digress.

I have just sucked today. I knew there was a reason I felt like I should self isolate. I have days where my mouth just doesn’t connect to my brain and I say things that open cans of worms, which leads to self loathing which depresses me which makes me think of the aftermath and grudges being held or hurt feelings and I start to panic. All of this because of a mood. Which is kind of a misnomer because with bipolar it’s not simply a mood. It’s a mind frame. And mind frames are consuming.

He had me stay 20 minutes late tonight, which made me panic. Can’t be outside my safe zone too long. Does he get that? Nope. Doesn’t even try.

I have so much house work today and I just did it all Saturday. The rinse lather repeat of life drags me down. I know I need to put on the big panties and deal with it but some days, it’s just better to go to bed and reboot my brain like a computer. I can always hope for a better mind frame in the morning to enable my coping skills to improve. It sounds asinine, I know, but that’s what bipolar amounts to, especially my cyclothymic bipolar. The mood shifts are that rapid.

Now…I am gonna play with my kid before she goes to bed and then I will ponder the housework. Unless it’s something that might end the world, blow up the house, or get my kid taken away, I don’t think I am going to sweat it too much. I will never be accused of being a haus frau and I am okay with that.



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