Depressive Lucidity

***First off, I am “test driving” a used laptop R procured and it’s unfamiliar and I don’t do change. So I am unamused. Second off, fuck you and your “improved posting experience” wordpress. I don’t do change!!!! All this pastel blue and white is giving me a brain bleed.***

So…I’ve finally emerged from the mixed manic/rock bottom depression phase. I am still very low and hope is a comedic term to me but…My thoughts have slowed significantly and I almost feel coherent. Lucid. In fact, my mind has cleared so drastically, I am looking at this past week’s posts and going, I wrote that???

It’s like a week long booze bender and you finally sober up. Then clean up the messes you made, good, bad, or plain rude, while under the influence of bipolar.

I stayed up pretty late last night. Checking on Mama Shade and her newborns.  (How can I not even notice my indoor cat is pregnant????) She only had the three, and all three were alive and kicking as of this morning.

I also just needed to zone out, watch some tv, and lick my wounds from the social outing. I was basically told I’m not strict enough by  R and Mrs R, after the other day my mom guilt tripped me for taking my kid’s Leap Pad away from her when she screamed that she hated me.

Sometimes, I wish the peanut gallery would fuck off. If I ask for your opinion, fine. Otherwise…Just shut up.

Wow…This morning is a lot like waking up after having had the flu. I feel achy, weak, exhausted, but the worst of it is over. I am on the mend. How long that lasts depends on the cyclothymia. Odd how the features of that are rapid shifts but less severe, yet my depressions last for months while my manic episodes only last a few days. Then I get the mixed or stable periods or mood crashes in between. Not that I am special or anything, but I swear all my disorders need to be combined into an all new category in the diagnostic manual.

I am finding I am not alone in being outside the box with my symptoms thus confusing the doctors and their books.

Today is…Ugh. I hit snooze six times, lamenting in my own head how much I do not want to be here in Bumfuck babysitting a damned dog. I love animals, don’t get me wrong. But now that I am a cat grandma, my mind is kind of focused on my own animals.

In my usual reliable manner,I was told to be here before 7:30. Got here closer to 7:45. I suck at numbers. I’m always rounding up or down or saying, eh, fuck it. What’s my dad gonna do? Disown me? Orphanhood would suit me fine.

I keep thinking about last night. The whole time I was there I just felt like a fish out of water, flopping about gracelessly, wanting back in my safe fish bowl. Maybe it’s just me because R and Mrs R and their extended family have been nothing but good to me and Spook. I am just forever painfully aware I don’t quite fit in. This is not some self esteem issue, but rather…No one shares my interests so I am forever trying to share theirs in an effort to make this socialization thing work.

Though in a fit of sadistic humor, Mrs. R and I did torture R by playing country music. Yeah, odd, considering how I hate anything that isn’t at least some branch of rock and roll. But I was raised by country folk so it was bound to seep in on some level.  (In a way, I think my diverse musical tastes are probably the one good thing my parents did right parenting me.)

R was not amused. After all the Toto and lame ass 70’s shit he’s subjected me to…(Including a run of the Beatles movie the other day and their horrendous warbling)…karma, biatch.

Then came the usual awkward talk about how he ran into someone who knew us when we were together and she was asking, “Does (your wife) know you hang out with Niki???How does that work?”

Well, at first it didn’t. Mrs R kind of called me a bitch and banned me from their orbit. But then I just declared I wasn’t going anywhere and she saw how I stood up to him and we bonded as natural badass dominant women. I think she respects me for not putting up with his shit. God knows she’s got him trained like a lapdog. Albeit a bitchy pissy submissive lapdog.

I dunno. My parents still speak even though they hate each other and dad brings his woman and kid to all our family get togethers. I guess awkward and non conventional run in my family. I don’t find it all that weird to hang out with an ex. I still speak to some of my exes (most of them) because I am an awesome friend even if I am shit at relationships.

Spare The Donor. Who recently got promoted into a second managerial position at Herpes Depot. My dad told me because his neighbor just took a job there and apparently The Donor has everyone snowed, they think he’s great.

Three kids. No support on any of them in years. No attempt to be in  their lives.

Yeah, great. I’m not doing the scorned woman thing, either. These are just facts. And it’s hard because I don’t want to deal with him. If he stays away, I think it’s better for all of us. I just think it’s shit that he gets to abandon and fail to support three kids and nothing is done about it. Life may not be fair but there should be personal responsibility. God knows he harped on it enough. Hypocrisy at its finest.

I wish people would quit telling me what that…thing…is up to. I am happiest when he’s not in my consciousness. My kid deserves a better dad. Father is biological. She deserves a dad that is there for her.

He owes me shit. Never liked him anyway, I was just unmedicated and insane at the time all the while crazy with hormones. I don ‘t even like blondes with blue eyes. I like gothy guys. So what the fuck was I even thinking? Oh,right. I wasn’t. I had the manic episode when I hooked up with him then went into seasonal depression then came up preggo (if they say you can’t have kids, don’t necessarily believe them, I’m living proof) and couldn’t take meds. Then I got that eeevil depo provera that made me more insane than the pregnancy did…

Yeah that whole chapter of my life should be expunged because I was not in my right mind at any point.

It occurs to me that during all my lamentation about being ill, I am making myself out to be incompetent as a parent. Well…I’ve been there for her and I may not get it right all the time but I make the effort. E for effort and all that.

I’m rambling.Of course, I am.I had my lump dose of Prozac and it’s making me all swirly tornado brain. The quiet lucid thing was nice for the ninety minutes it lasted.

And fuck me, I just had to use the term lucidity and now I have that wretched putrid Queensryche “Silent Lucidity” song stuck in my head. I always hated that band and especially that song. I’m like a masochist to my own mind.

Okay…Spewage complete. For now.

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4 Responses to “Depressive Lucidity”

  1. Anyone who tortures with Toto is not a good person . . . know that God is against such a person!

    • morgueticiaatoms Says:

      LOL. Does seem pretty cruel after 20 years of him doing it. Marquis De Sade would have loved having Toto music to use as torture.

  2. morgueticiaatoms Says:

    I guess therapeutic is in the ear of the beholder? 😉

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