Livin After Ten P.M.

Yeah, ok, I know the Judas Priest song is “Livin After Midnight…”
But it’s 10:10 p.m. and I am still awake, not buried in my bedroom crypt.
THIS is progress.
Tiny step, yes. But a step nonetheless.
I can celebrate the small victories.
Hell, I even had company over to watch a movie and I don’t even feel traumatized. Mainly because I chose the movie and they left when it was over. Yayyy. I’m not anti social, I’m just introverted. I like my own company. Well, sorta.

Do I need to post again?
But wordpress keeps showing me stats and numbers and telling me “this post got the most views, you should write more like this.”
Which makes me never want to write about that topic again.
I will rebel until my dying death.

Point is…I am awake instead of buried alive in my depressive crypt. And R has requested my presence tomorrow to “keep him on track” which means I will take in the list he had me write and he will make excuses on why none of it can be accomplished for six hours but is relevant only ten mins before I have to pick up my kid.
If he weren’t so useful….
I am so pragmatic (bitchy, some would say) I can suffer fools for my own benefit. I just don’t do it silently.
Maybe it’s personality. But the erratic mood swings kind of make the personality inconsistent so I am not convinced it’s who I am.
And dealing with the moods and issues of others…That’s just powderkeg material. Not that the mundanes will ever be help accountable. It’s always the “crazy” people taking the brunt of it.

Am I whining?
I’m never sure because the world has confused therapeutic venting with being a whiner. That irks me to no end. I vent my dryer, why can’t I vent my thoughts so they don’t explode?

I think the oddest thing of today’s experience started Focalin again is…I’ve only had a single 0.5 mg Xanax since last night at this time…And I am still steady and not spazzing out. Maybe a fluke, maybe a sign that things are going to improve.
I don’t know.
It’s just nice to not be cowering in bed under blankets thinking every bad thought known to man.
Though I do have my stressers still. Nightshade moved her kittens and now I have to force her to care for them. I think she knows about the encephaly kitty who’s not likely to make it so she’s saving the milk for the stronger kittens.
I appreciate logic and maternal instinct but it still breaks me heart into a thousand shards.That kitten is soooo sweet and he’s made it three weeks and is just as active and loud as his siblings…How she could reject him is beyond me.
When I was preggo, I flat out told the donor no matter what the amnio showed, I was having my baby. Period.
I’ve got no use for shallow people who can’t hang tough when things get hard and are ugly, I don’t care if survival of the fittest is naturally ingrained.
Love means you don’t just throw in the towel to save the many over the few. Perhaps the biggest bone of contention I ever had with R. He was all Star Trek, the needs of the many outweigh the needs of the few.
Yet when it came to his perfect kids…Different story.
I’m all for saving as many people as you can…But dude, if it comes down to a dozen strangers over my daughter…She wins, hands down, even if it makes me a bad person. Love means everything.
You don’t reject your own just to look good by saving a plethora.

I’m probably not even making sense now. I don’t care.
My mind is fairly slowed down but it’s still got ten songs playing on one frequency.
Perfection…is not me.
I am a hot mess.
I just need my fellow hot messes to appreciate it.


One Response to “Livin After Ten P.M.”

  1. Nope you’re venting rather than whining.

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