The “KILL ME NOW!” day

Ever have a day that kicks your ass emotionally? Where the stressors just keep coming and you are grabbing at your hair and burying your face in your hands and wondering whose Cheerios you pissed in to deserve such a shitty day?

That was today.

It started out well.

Then it just went to a bucket of suck.

For the first time in two years, we came face to face with the sperm donor at a store. I feared that day, unsure of my reaction, whether I’d scream or cry or try to perform a lobotomy on him with a rusty spork.

Oddly, I felt nothing looking at him. I even said, “Say hi to your daddy, Spook.” She looked right at him and didn’t recognize him, and lest I be accused of trying to alienate her affections, I felt compelled to point him out. He mumbled hi to her and gazed at her with what I suspect might have been actual affection. Or is it wishful thinking on my part? He didn’t kneel down to engage with her, didn’t hug her, didn’t even smile. But he did look a little sad. Then again, he looks like he is dying or something, not healthy looking at all.

Then he asks, “Are we going to talk?” I said, “I’ve been waiting two years.” And he said he had too, and I pointed out he never gave me his phone number. Then he insisted he did. I quoted our last phone conversation in which he said he wouldn’t give me the number til after the court set up visitation. He said no, he gave me the number and I’m the one who should have called him to initiate discussions.

It became obvious in that sixty seconds that he has not changed an iota, he still can’t take any responsibility and is putting it all on me. I mean, that takes some balls. You walk out, you don’t contact me for a year, you don’t send your kid so much as a birthday card for two years…But I’m the one who’s supposed to contact him,  with a number he never gave me, and I’m the one responsible for getting the divorce.  To my credit, I simply let it drop and walked away with my kid, determined not to be engaged into an ugly scene in front of her and all the people in the store.

I felt nothing. Then he spoke. Now all day I have been beating myself up, wondering if he did give me his number and i was in some sort of mental fugue. I know better, but he seemed so certain he gave me the number and I am so certain he did not. There was never any way to win or even compromise with him, and that’s not changed.

Came home to five hours of bickering destructive brats from hell. I sent them home, they’d come back. I am getting where I cannot stand those two girls. And now I live in fear of their mother coming to kick my ass because I wouldn’t let her snowflakes set the house on fire and that’s mean.

I hate what my life has become, I miss being a loner, not having these kids in my home destroying my stuff.  I just want my fucking quiet little life back. But these kids just won’t fucking listen. I have even locked the door and ignored them…and they pounded and screamed for over a half hour.

Sad thing is, I sent them home at 7pm…and they came back at 8:30 pm, by which time spook had zonked out.

Now my head hurts, my back hurts, my brain hurts, and I am thoroughly demoralized, stressed, and depressed. That last one, though, is to be expected, coming off an anti depressant, duh.

Tomorrow I have to go get blood drawn for a lithium level. I loathe going to the hospital lab.

My nephew’s birthday party is tomorrow night and he doesn’t give a shit if we are there, but we’re going to have to put in an appearance to avoid a fucking family war. If we don’t show, my mom will go on a tirade. (She went off on her insurance guy the other day for canceling her policy and it was because she didn’t pay it!)

I realized today that the reason I am so comfortable with kids is they are not emotionally complex. They don’t have ulterior motives. They say what’s on their mind. They hate you one minute, the next they love you again. Kids are simple. They are pure.

Adults are such clusterfucks of emotional damage I can’t cope.  My failing, sure.

But I can’t find one single person in this town that I have much in common with. The local pastimes are getting wasted and smoking dope while being attached to an X Box or smart phone. Those things are not my things. Most of my things don’t require another person involved because I am such a loner. It would be nice to have someone to talk to, though, about this bipolar and anxiety crap. We have a mental health center and yet I can never meet anyone who will admit they go there because they have problems like mine. And if I did, no doubt they’d just want me to join in on pot and booze a palooza.

So I am by myself,basically friendless. I have acquaintances who possess all the emotional depth of a rain puddle. My one true friend is separated from me by an ocean.

And this just makes me feel like a bigger loser, but I don’t know if it’s because I really do want to have a friend or two, or if this is societal programming telling me I am defective because I won’t just assimilate and accept what I can get.

I am almost hoping my lithium level’s low so she will increase it. I am not numb enough. I also demand a pill to shut off the nagging little thoughts that stampede through my brain and won’t be deterred no matter what little therapy trick I use to shut them down.

Has anyone ever heard of Lyrical being used for anxiety? It hit me earlier when I saw a commercial. If it can quiet the impulses for fibromyalgia pain, then it would stand to reason maybe it could quiet an overactive central nervous system full of panic. But then again, my anxiety level is just so out of control these days, I am grasping at fucking straws. I’d go lick psychadelic toads if I thought it would help.

Now I am going to try to sleep. Funny how every night when I lay down for that purpose…my scumbag brain decides it’s optimal to kick in and keep me awake with swirling thoughts.

I want a new brain.




3 Responses to “The “KILL ME NOW!” day”

  1. America is so anti-social. We have to have some sort of media to even talk to one another. Your kid is a blessing, though. I don’t know how you made it through pregnancy with a mental disorder. I’m scared to death of it.

    • I lived in fear of how it would be to be pregnant with my issues,. Then I was preggo and thought, it might be okay…Ha ha ha. It was the worst time in my entire life. I would not trade my kid for anything, but the pregnancy experience was vile and grueling. They put me back on meds in the third trimester because I was falling to pieces. I would go through labor and childbirth a thousand times, but pregnancy…Never again.

  2. Wow – I am so impressed and proud of you for not only seeing the Donor and not physically attacking him or running away, but actually speaking to him! You have way more guts than I do. Just knowing He is back in the same country as me just about rendered me catatonic. I have no doubt that he never gave you that number, and even if he had, that absolutely does not excuse ignoring his child for two years.

    It may have been a “kill me now” day but you survived – and handled way better than I would have! Kudos. 🙂

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