Machine Gun To The Brain

I am going to rename my kid Uzi. She’s been awake 45 mins and already had three screaming kicking mimis and hurt two different cats. She has screamed “I don’t like you” several times, been placed in time out several times…My brain hurts already and the day is just starting. I have an entire summer of this. Yay. People are like, “Oh, you’re always complaining about her, it can’t be that bad.” Bet me and fuckin’ lose. And being surrounded by simpletons it escapes their limited intellect that I am not merely complaining. I am crying out for help. I need help with this child. I am doing everything I am told to do and it is not getting better. I am frustrated. I love my kid to pieces but being treated like crap every single day is taking a toll on me. I guess my psyche isn’t that strong. Sue me for being human.

So Bex, Spook, and I went to R’s house last night so Mrs. R could meet Bex. Wine was involved. Happy Niki came out to play. I hate her. It was less booze and more mania. I hate manic Niki. She is too bubbly and funny and spirited and social and she just does these things like say “Oh, we should totally do that one day!” Then the booze and mania wear off and anxiety returns and it’s like FUCK, what fake illness can I develop to get out of this? Because without the mania and lessened anxiety, I can’t think of anything I want to do less than get trapped in a car out of town with other people.

Yeah I am fucked up. I shouldn’t do these things. When I am happy and fun people come to expect it. I can’t maintain it, ffs, then they’re like, who are you, you depressed paranoid husk of a human? Ass trash. What I wish I could be and who I really am are vastly different things. I am soo content to stay home and write or whatever. I socialize because I am told it is necessary and good for me, but twice a year would be enough to appease me. It’s not even that they’re bad company. It’s me. I’m just out of my comfort zone and I need to be back in it. Neurotic or not, it’s been that way for 20 plus years and I don’t think it’s going to change because it simply is who I am. It’s not a disorder, not being anti social. I am just a very introverted person who enjoys doing her own thing.

I was glad to come home. Especially after R telling me he’d done an experiment on me last year to see if I could be trusted. He apparently left a hundred dollar bill laying out for the better part of a week at the shop just to see if I would take it. I don’t even remember it in all honesty because he was always leaving shit out. X Mains, power supplies, various ICS. I mean, seriously, it’s all buried under a pile of other shit, and it never changes no matter how many times you tidy up…It becomes like background noise. Why would I care if he got ripped off a hundred bucks? Leave it laying out you kinda deserve it, ass trash. It would never occur to me to take it, because as I told him, I am not who I used to be. I found mood stabilizers that correct my faulty wiring so I don’t do idiotic shit like shopping sprees on other people’s credit cards anymore. Talk about holding a grudge for 20 years. Stupid, too, considering a hundred bucks is nothing compared to having all the info for your limitless credit card, jackass. I wanna jack you up, I’m not gonna half ass it. I’m not manic anymore. Now I am just a plotting bitch.

Which is why I save all my text messages in case any assholes think about throwing me under the bus at a later date to save their own asses. I don’t think so, Tim. I may be paranoid and nutsy kookoo but I’ve had enough tire tracks on me over the years that I don’t experiment with trustworthiness. I assume the worst and make plans to protect myself against the asshole nature we all possess.

So while certainly miffed by being a guinea pig..I can most certainly appreciate the underhanded little experiment. Once upon a time, I might have done the same, back when I had faith in people and cared enough to consider they *might not* fuck me over. Now I just assume they will and make contingency plans. Not a great way to through life but it comforts me to an extent to know if the ship goes down, I can take the other rats right down with me.

My evil is kind of hot.

I got to see a mirror of myself last night. It’s weird being on the other side. When we got home, Bex had an abrupt mood crash and left the room so huffily I was sitting here wondering what I could have done to piss her off. I was playing Word POker and not saying a word. But I asked and she said it wasnt me so I let it go.

And realized, that’s me. That’s exactly how I am. How others see me. I guess I understand better now. Why it’s so difficult for others to deal with me. It’s like a thunderburst and rainstorm from out of nowhere and you do get paranoid that maybe you inadvertently did something to bring it about. It’s rarely like that, though. At least I know better than to be a pestering ass about it. I hate when people do the “are you okay? what’s wrong now? why are you mad at me? How can I cheer you up? Are you okay? Are you okay?”

It’s ass irritating as MOMMY MOMMY MOMMY MOMMY.

Unfortunately, you can’t put adults in time out.

Now back to Uzi. I mean, Spook.  I feel like I’ve been embalmed. Socializing does this to me. And we get to go do it again tonight at my brother’s graduation cookout. Joy. My gums will be bleeding by then from the way I am gnashing my teeth. The Uzi child wants fed. I guess a bowl of Toddler Kibble won’t do the trick.

See how my brain is all over the place?  Try living this way and not being nutsy kookoo. The Uzi to the brain is just an added bonus. I gotta stop peeing in people’s Cheerios.


One Response to “Machine Gun To The Brain”

  1. LucyBre Says:

    Maybe you could look into some local summer schemes/clubs to see if you could get ‘Uzi’ out of your hair for a while…

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