Life is as much fun as gargling razor blades

I honestly think I am beginning to crack up. What scares me most is, I’m starting to not care. Being committed would get me a break from all this shit sending me into freak out mode. It sounds like a childish cop out, but I am to the point where I can’t breathe anymore. My skin feels like it fits too tight. My mind seems to be doing whatever the fuck it wants in spite of the meds. I am feeling out of control and overwhelmed and angry and frustrated. And the more everyone tells me I am okay, suck it up, rise above it, blah blah blah…The more I want to have a screaming throwing shit breakdown. Because I am a lowly human being and even people without the mental stuff can crack up sometimes, so maybe I am just more prone to it and yet, I am smothering in the lack of ability to even crack my lids.

My misanthropy is growing by the day. I am losing objectivity and starting to fall prey to the moods and anxieties. Everyday feels like a fresh start for someone to take advantage of my kindness. To take but not give. To claim to be supportive yet completely blow me off. Of course, for all I know, this could be my own mental distortion. For all I know, I could be right as rain tomorrow.

I have had a hellish weekend, though. That girl has been here off and on for three straight days. I told her to come back at 3 today, she was back at 12:30. She started calling me a fatty and a butthead then claiming it was a joke. She kept asking for food and drinks. My kid became a terror any time I tried to send her home. We had to basically flee our own home two days straight to escape this child. Which earned me an hour of screaming and bawling tantrums. Yes, Spook can stress me out, but it was hardly ever this bad before this girl started coming over. She left earlier without even saying bye to my kid. I put Spook down for a nap, and the girl comes back and tells me I need to wake my kid up so they can play. I told her not to come back. Six pm, she was back pounding on the door and I just ignored it. JUst like I did yesterday when my kid was sleeping and she wouldn’t go away.

This child-Sam, we will call her, has become the bane of my existence. She was here this morning at 9:30 a.m. My stomach was churning, I had a Trazadone hangover, hadn’t gotten dressed yet, needed to do all the housework I didn’t get done yesterday cos she was here all afternoon….My mood was vile. And I glared and snapped accordingly. Not my finest mom hour, but ya know what? Parenting is a tough job. Parenting with bipolar disorder is a mind boggling feat. Throw in someone else’s kid who is rude and demanding and never wants to leave and can’t listen to basic instruction (Please come back at 3 pm so we can do things we need to do”…I feel trapped in my home by this child, like my only recourse is to not be home. But my home is my sanctuary.

Then I think of all the advice I’ve been given about being polite but straight forward with Sam, about how I am the adult and this is my home and I have to assert myself…And it’s like, wtf am I doing? This child will not listen. Much like my own, who has had more tantrums this weekend than I can count on both hands. I am at the end of my rope. But once I send Sam away and my kid realizes I am not caving, things calm down and we play together and…It’s fine until that child returns yet again and again in spite of being told not to. And forget talking to her mother, she’s basically told the kids she doesn’t care what they are doing as long as they aren’t inside bugging her. So…When polite firmness does not work…What do I do? And this whole taking advantage of my kindness and basically using my kid to play with her toys while running off to play with other kids without so much as a bye or helping Spook clean up the mess…It infuriates me. Because it’s a matter of basic manners.

I am sure it sounds asinine and trivial but this is really driving me over the edge. Throw in the stuff with R at the shop and one of my cats is acting out so I put her outdoors because I got sick of cleaning up her messes to protest the other cats….Plus the burning stress stomach aches are daily now. The anxiety makes me want to claw my own eyeballs out. For the first time a long time, I am actually taking the full daily prescribed dose of Xanax. I am doing breathing exercises, visualization exercises, I am drinking water in lieu of caffeine…I am doing everything that is supposed to help. But it’s not helping. All I want to do is sleep. Everything else seems hopeless.

And I wonder, is the Cymbalta really helping? But I am terrified to tell the dr it isn’t because I can sense her growing aggravated with me due to the neverending med failures. It’s not a Goldilocks thing, where I just keep trying the beds to find one that is comfy. I just want to feel better. I want back my will to live. I want out  of this teeth grinding darkness where my only comfort is sleep. Plus, she thinks it’ s situational depression that can only be worked out in therapy. Well, I’ve been going for 19 months now and the sunshine spewer isn’t concerned with underlying depression issues.

I am at a loss.

My kid is talking to me and it’s like nails on a chalkboard. It isn’t right, because I love her more than anything in the world.

I love my cats but when they are climbing all over me sometimes, I just want to scream and start throwing them off of me.

I have napped with my kids both days this weekend and I am still just exhausted and stressed out.

Now I have to try to relocate some semblance of sanity to go to the shop this week. I have tried to talk to R but he has this way of deflecting my feelings and making me feel sorry for him. It pisses me off. Because it’s a common thing with guys. You talk about your feelings and somehow they dismiss them and insert their own feelings about how you are difficult and stressful and…God, I hate people. As a whole. My true hatred only applies to people who have personally stepped on my emotional toes. And when I tell a so called friend I really need an occasional break because I am losing it and it suddenly becomes about their needs trumping mine…That’s not a friend. That is someone who uses you for their own comfort without giving a damn about yours.

Or has my brain just liquified to the point of not having any sanity left?

I’m scared.

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