Mental Puree

The bumpy ride of the last ten days has left me feeling like my brain has been put through a juice strainer. I am pulpy juicy puree in the membrane.
Yesterday it was raw nerve endings.
Today it is bruised and raw emotions.
Issues with conscience that prior to this point, didn’t bother me in the least because I have my own skewed morality therefore I won’t share the same guilt issues with others. (Example: certain religions find homosexuality a sin yet I disagree so my guilt for being gay would be nil.) (And for the record, I’m not big on labels. I think the term “flexible” describes me best.)
But it’s nothing to do with that. This is emotional morality. There is a fine line between not judging someone and being their friend and letting them manipulate and wound you to suit their needs to the point you’re bleeding.
Where do you draw the line? And if you draw the line, how do you not feel like some ogre for doing so? It makes me doubt the whole love without conditions thing. I love my daughter, but if she attacked me with a chainsaw, my devotion would be from the other side of a prison wall. You just can’t let people chew you up and spit you out emotionally over and over. No matter how much you want to atone for your own past of making bad choices and having others bail you out…
There has to be a line in the sand at some point.
I wasn’t conflicted.
Now I am.
I know who I want to be. But it has nothing to do with who I am.
I want to be emotionally sound, fair, empathetic, compassionate, and yet wise enough not to used or taken advantage of.
Who I am…I’m a mood bitch who gets hurt and holds a grudge for awhile but eventually wants to roll the dice on the chance that humanity isn’t a total loss.
It will be my downfall for life.

Yeah, that’s how I feel today.

And I also had an epiphany last night.
I am doing way better this year than I was at this time last year.
But I am still depressed. It’s the seasonal affect and I try to deny it and make excuses. But every night around five as soon as it gets dark and the temp drops…I become almost anxiety ridden if I do not immediately take to my bedroom and count the minutes until my daughter is asleep so I can climb under the covers. Never mind I don’t go to sleep, just toss and turn and torture myself with stressful thoughts I can’t shut off. It’s a compulsion. It’s an enveloping.
It’s depression.
And putting a positive spin on it because you’re no longer spending six day stretches in your pajamas..doesn’t change anything.
I am doing better.
But I was arrogant to think if I just denied it enough I’d be ok. I’m not okay. I am dealing.
And being cyclothymic, I will likely deal even better tomorrow.

And now…
My daughter has returned from Sunday school and is brow beating me because everyone apparently wants to know why her mom doesn’t have a job.

I really really want a mouse pad with a bulleye “bang head here” motif.


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