my American Horror story

***Forgive any typing errors, my netbook keyboard has issues and sometimes it works, sometimes it doesn’t.

 

Today has been a lazy vegetative Sunday. Still recovering from last week’s sensory overload. we’re into season two of American Horror Story marathon. “Asylum” was disconcerting for me because it centers around how mental illness was viewed, and treated, fifty so years ago. Many viewed it as “excuse for sin’. the ‘treatments were abhorrent.’ it may just be a tv show but it is my understanding that it’s not inaccurate.

much as i find today’s mental health care lacking, I am to an extent grateful to live in this time period where the attitudes have shifted and an effort is made to help people get well instead of locking them up and writing them off.

my kid has had one of those whiny days where nothing i do is good enough. i have resorted to Mango-rita medication because my frustrating and anxiety are at fever pitch. Becca can attest that I have jumped through hoops trying to please the kid today, doing what she asked, and still being met with criticism. It wears you down, especially when it’s a daily thing.

My allergies are driving me insane. My body itches from head to toe and allergy pills are doing shit. Heat makes me itch, my own sweat makes me itch. It’s miserable. I try not to whine but it is what it is.

We are starting a new week. i can’t say I am particularly jazzed. Each week is one closer to bex’s inevitable departure. I don’t want her to go any more than she wants to go. We mesh, we complement each other, and it’s the most comfortable living situation I have ever had. August is bittersweet for me. She will leave but at last, my kid will be in school full time. I need the break but I am convinced the static schedule and a more structured learning environment will benefit us both. i hope.

(itch itch itch itch itch)

Spook was right in my path after having been told to move earlier and tripped me, I fell on my knee and now i have a scrape and two bruises. Again, not whining, it’s just the concept that she defied me yet again. I got hurt, and she started crying for herself. She didn’t apologize or ask if I was okay. This lack of empathy concerns me, no matter how many people tell me it’s normal for kids her age. Kids without empathy become adults without empathy. Call me ridiculous but I find it a legitimate concern.

Now…back to the asylum, so to speak. Sister Jude is terrorizing the reporter chick.

It’s a break from my own American Horror Story, at least.

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2 Responses to “my American Horror story”

  1. imptiness Says:

    I want to publically apologise for not believing you each time we were online and in separate continents. When you’d tell me how relentless or irritating, or how much your kid wouldn’t listen to you. And I just kinda pushed it aside and thought, meh! She’s exaggerating or she can’t be all THAT bad. Well now I know, am I’m sorry, I’m sorry you have to put up with it alone, I’m sorry no one believes you and I’m sorry I won’t be here all the time to take a bullet or two, or three thousand for you.

    I will come back though. And this time, it won’t take me twelve years.

    And it WON’T be via Chicago.

  2. I couldn’t resist commenting. Exceptionally well written!

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