Babble, babble, bitch, bitch
I love “This is The New Shit” by Marilyn Manson so I thought I’d utilize a line from it as this post’s title. It fits because I am so disjointed it’s gonna be babble and bitch city.
I’ve been…existing. That’s the only way to put it. Auto pilot. Kid, cats, me. Clothes, food, liquids, etc. Just functioning. No real joy. Those flickers of hope I had been feeling…MIA now. If anything my mood has dipped right back down. I am frustrated and pissed off and just so dejected. It’s not just being low. It’s being overwhelmed and panic stricken and the odd bad paranoid thoughts stalking me, it all combines to create the hot mess that is me.
Last night I avoided answering my phone because it seemed easier than trying to turn down another invitation. People get sick of what they view as excuses (because,ya know, mental illness isn’t real) and at some point I just give up trying to explain. Then I feel guilty for failing people who cared enough to extend an invite. I’m just so overloaded and I know I only have a fraction of what others handle daily but this is too much for me and I am suffering under the weight. I’m actually getting scared because it’s been going on for so long and there are some new facets that disturb me.
Like, I’ve had two cats go missing in 5 months. I love my cats, hopelessly. Yet..I haven’t shed a tear. And some of it’s Lithium numbness, to be expected, but also…Six years ago something happened that crushed my soul and I’ve never really recovered from losing something I was attached to. I can’t form attachments the same way anymore. That bothers me. I’m tired of acquiring more damage instead of fixing the damn problems.
I’m worried by how fast I came undone and how totally. It’s never been so quick and bad before. That’s scary. I’;m not bouncing back. That’s scary.I am so screwed up I need way more than 5 minutes with a dr’;s face on a tv screen and I am never gonna get it cos good care costs money.
I feel doomed. Scarier yet, I’ve begun to think my kid would be better off without me. I am selfish, I am impatient, I am morally questionable, I am interested in dark things, I am…probably gonna screw her up in a major way just by being me, never mind the mental illness. And my kid flipflops between treating me like mommy of the year and well, satan, so I don’t have much positive feedback to counter the negative thoughts about my parenting ability. Without positive to counter the negative, it’;s like a petri dish growing germs out of control.
I did get good news., My bestest friend ever is flying all the way from England this summer to spend three months with us and I am excited about that Also nervous because I am a social idget. But it’s a good thing.
And today, my brother actually brought me roses just to thank me for being a good big sister. That’s sweeter than anything my husbands ever did for me. (I’m beginning to think I have dated and married some really anti thoughtful idgets.)
I have two cats who are expecting and kitten therapy is intoxicating so I can look forward to that.
So there are a few good things going on in my life to counter the bad.
My question is; WHY WON’;T MY MOOD GET ON BOARD AND LET ME FEEL HAPPY?
It’s like trying to eat food after a dentist has pumped your mouth full of Novacaine. You know you’re eating, you know food has flavor, but you’re going through the motions, not enjoying it, and it feels alien. That’s how my entire existence feels. Its not some affectation or choice to be miserable. There is something just plain wrong.
I mean, I’m not a druggie, never have been, and yet lately, I’ve been dying to try Ecstasy because I just want to feel happy for a few fucking minutes. That’s called desperation.
Maybe truth be told, the financial struggle has gotten to me, as well. I mean, most people are at least comfortable enough to know they’re going to have seven days a week. I have to juggle and sacrifice to make sure my kid can do that, then I worry about myself. And while it’s not really new, even from when I was a kid and my parents did the same even with two incomes…It wears you down after awhile. Especially when the system lets a father go three years without making him contribute a cent. It’s a soul sucking experience. I’m not the first, won’;t be the last, single parenthood is tough, blah blah blah…
But you add it all together-mental problems, money problems, psychological problems, no real support system…Maybe how I feel is exactly how I’m supposed to feel. You can;t take two positives against ten negatives and expect it to balance.
Babble, babble, bitch, bitch.
It’s 12:35 am and my 4 hyear old is still awake. She just informed me she;s talking to the friends in her head.
Odd how at age 4, that sentence is considered vivid imagination and yet twenty years from now, it will be mental illness.
Odd how I am jealous that she is wearing footed pajamas and I have none. They look warm and comfy.
Babble, babble, bitch, bitch.