I am less tormented by the depression today. I’m still very low but kind of resigned to it. It’s not the end of the world, right?

They sent my kid home sick, claiming she was vomiting. Which means I couldn’t go barter with R for cat food so my cats have no food. Of course, now the child has made a miraculous recovery. Mini corn dogs for lunch no more, she is cured. I am so fed up with her hypochondria. I am making her lay on the couch the entire day. No toys, no tv, nothing. If you’re sick enough to come home, you convalesce, you do not play.

So…last night…I broke my own cardinal rule of “let it alone.” Of course, I’d let it fester for days because leaving things alone kind of means…Let it go, move on. Scumbag brain and my own self righteous indignation were having no part of it. So much like throwing up…
I sent a shout out letting someone know how unimpressed I am with their behavior. They responded but ya know what? I blew it off, deleted all messages. Because I don’t want excuses or name calling or any of that standard shit people pull when they don’t have the balls to own up being an asshole.
I’d probably have let it go because, well, I know people suck.
The fact that ten days later my kid is still discussing seeing someone’s self destruction and bawling because she thinks I’m gonna do the same..
Dragging my kid into it was just wrong. I should have walked away. But idiot that I am, I like to try to see the best in people and of course, there is that whole caretaker imprint where I feel obligated to help people even though it’s never reciprocated. That’s on me. I fucked up.
But I didn’t create the drama and had I known there was going to be such drama, I sure as hell never would have exposed my kid to it. THAT is what you get for believing people and having faith in them.
It’s just proving my point that I am better off left alone.
If anyone’s going to screw my kid up, it’s gonna be me.

I feel…free, though. I got that weight off my brain and now it’s like…I am less tortured. The mind is quieter. The mood is low but manageable. The anxiety, on the other hand, is skyrocketing. But the kid whining incessantly how she feels better and I am mean for not letting her play and now I don’t know what I am gonna feed the cats and…
Yesterday, this would have probably driven me to hiding in the closet.
Today…the mind space is different. I feel less weak, more saucy. More like me. Though a lesser form of me.

I know the cycle, though, so I’m not holding out hope that this less tormented space will stick around too long. I do, however, think after yesterday’s utter blackness, I am due a little time in the gray space.

Oh, I feel the prozac boost fading already, meaning…Gray space won’t last much longer. Scumbag brain is going to go Marquis de Sade on my ass. I’d call it doomsday thinking if I didn’t live it every bloody day.

Now back to the hypochondriac on my couch.
I much prefer a bofa on my sofa.


2 Responses to “Less”

  1. Victoria A Says:

    Bofa on my sofa. I love it. very original….and humorous. Despite everything I like that you can still find enjoyment in the simplicities of life. Keep chuggin’ along eventually…..well it doesn’t end….this thinking pattern I mean…….. but it doesn’t mean that your defeated. 🙂

    • Unfortunately, it’s not original. Bofa on the sofa is from a Dr.Suess book my kid likes me to read to her. It just became this inside joke around here.

      As for the rest…I prefer to think of myself as bent, not broken. Bent things can be reformed into some semblance of functionality, even if imperfect. Broken stuff just goes in the trash if its beyond repair. So yeah…bent, not broken. Though these days…Bent seems to be an understatement. Thankfully, we have gellars in the cellar and wosets in the closets to distract me. Okay, Dr Suess is going to sue me for plagerism.

      On Fri, Mar 20, 2015 at 7:47 AM, Take a Ride on My Mood Swing wrote:


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