Mom, Embalmed

I’ve been less than functional today. Well, in my own mind. I did get up, take care of kid and cats, did dishes and cooked a good meal. But other than that, I have been in this zombie haze. My entire body aches. My knees are starting to hurt as they do every fall and winter. I’m exhausted even though I did fuck all. So on top of feeling shitty for not being super mom with the housework…I get to feel guilty about it as well.

It’s like this any time I spend more time out and about in the dish than at home. And last week the scales were about even on time out/time home. Throw in cramps and PMS…I’m drained. Embalmed.

Of course, having said all this, I will have to further guilt trip myself for being narcissistic and self absorbed and whiny. I can never seem to cut myself some slack.
I need to do that. Just not sure how.

I think…I will start with a shower. Then some Xanax. And once my kid goes to sleep and the uzi fire to my brain stops…perhaps I will return to a better mind frame. Or just get lost in the nothingness of sleep.

I find if I allow myself that luxury once or twice a week, I am able to somewhat recharge and spring back into action, so to speak.

On the plus side, six years ago, I was staying up all night, taking 300 mg of seroquel and 400 mg of trazadone and sleeping til 4 pm day in day out.
The mom gig at least has taught me that I don’t get to be a lump anymore. I may not feel like functioning, I may not be entirely functional, but I don’t have any choice but to get up and go through the motions. Which is what it feels like sometimes when the depression is tugging at your mind, raising your anxiety, and all you can think about is how you’d give a kidney just to have a manic episode and feel alive again.
It’s good that I have evolved and learned to tough it out rather than hide in come inducing pills and sleep. As long as I give myself vegetation time on occasion…It’s all good.

Besides. I’m never much use during pms week. Or the first two days of shark week. It’s hard to feel good when you’re in pain and exhausted for no reason and doing battle with a slew of emotions you don’t know are real or hormonal. The fact I haven’t been spotted in a clocktower with a high powered rifle is worthy of Ripley’s.

Though…If I really wanted to screw with people I could walk around with a realistic water gun, announce I have PMS, and see if they start running.

Meh. Maybe not. I’m too crampy and cranky.

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2 Responses to “Mom, Embalmed”

  1. A shower is a good start. Weekends are hard for us all. And it didn’t start well. The clocks fall back so look at it this way, an extra hour she’s quiet and one more for the brain to fill with nonsensical crap. Such an optimist, my new name is Sue (l)

  2. Sorry, clocks don’t turn back til next weekend but it’s a happy thought.

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