Let’s do another Topic Not Otherwise Specified Post

I have deemed it so that I’ve had enough time to bellyache about stuff. So I’m gonna do a topic not otherwise specified, bounce subject to subject and let the emotional gamut run. Even if it dares to go to that place where people puke rainbows. Unlikely but it could happen. Pegacorns.

Some of my happiest moments, and by happy, I mean calm and content, are when I am home, in my bubble, not feeling threatened and panic stricken. It’s not avoidance so much as it is survival instinct. If you are feeling raw and fragile, the worst thing you can do is place yourself in a situation that will exploit this.
I have to go get my kid from school in about an hour. After a relatively peaceful morning, I am filled with dread to go back into the petri dish and risk an adverse reaction. And I never know how combative and defiant she is going to be so that’s always a wild card.

I am watching a law show in which the defense attorney said, “Lawyers purposely seek out the weak ones with mental illness because they know those types can be manipulated.”
I don’t see having mental illness as weakness. If anything, if you manage to live with mental illness, you’re an example of strength. Too many have taken their own lives because it got to be too much. Those of us who keep going, even when we’re fragile and beaten down and emotionally raw…That’s strength. Shame people aren’t intelligent to see that.

I didn’t remember how loud kittens are. Absinthe is a crier. Loud and incessantly so. Her brother, not so much. I know they need time to adapt to the change of home but wow…My sensitivity to noise is unbelievably delicate.

I bought a new soda today. Lebron’s Blend Sprite. I didn’t taste any cherry but the lemon lime and orange were there. I drank half, gave half to my kid.

My sister called me at the store freaking out about whether the new kittens are eating, did I need to bring them by to nurse. I’ve been raising cats since I was 5, it’s what I do (as well as being midwife to dozens of mama cats too lazy to cut the cords.) I can’t believe my sister thinks I’d let them starve. Of course, I introduced them to solid foods. Even some canned stuff with chicken and gravy. And there’s that whole thing where I’ve kept a kid alive for almost six years. Jebus, sis, get a grip.

When I stopped for milk (I actually got it right and bought white milk) the cashier manager lady said, “On the run again?” People think I am super busy and rushed but truth is, I’m just limiting my dish exposure by doing things quickly. I don’t fuck around in the dish, it’s bad for my mental health. Maybe as bad as Latuda.

It’s not a constant thing, but it is common. I break out in hives at random intervals because I am anxious. That’s what the second trip into the dish did to me.

Upon my return today after fetching the spawn, Absinthe came waddling to the door fast as she could as if I’d been gone for hours. Kittens crack me up. Proves she’s already adopted me as her human. Her brother just likes my chair.

When I talked to my sister about taking the kittens, I told her I wanted a girl and a boy, one calico, one black and white. And she says, “Well, you probably don’t want the runt black and white one…” WRONG. He was one of six, he obviously just didn’t get as much as his siblings, there is nothing wrong with him. I always pick the ones who are somehow “less healthy”. The undercat, as it were.

Not a fan of the show, but some female politician tweeted that she will never again watch Game Of Thrones because of some rape scene in the last episode. Um…Grow up because this shit’s been happening for years? I suppose I’m a hypocrite because I swore off anything with Tom Cruise in it after his “mental illness is imaginary but I pray to an alien clam” spiel. Then again, I never much liked him to begin with. He did make an awesome LeStat but I’m fairly sure little acting was involved, he just happens to be a douchebag like the character.

It’s terrifying to see how many hoops adoptive parents have to jump through to get a kid. But if your uterus can serve its purpose, pretty much any asshole can have a kid. Which is good for me, considering how bad a housekeeper I am, and how my mental state bobbleheads. Jebus, adoptive parents have to be pretty much sainted. Not saying protecting kids is a bad thing, but kids do NOT need that level of perfection to be cared for and loved.

Contact with other persons has proven to be…challenging. Not because I am volatile today but because I am DEAD inside today. My affect is apathetic, numb, fake, forced. R called and I barely felt a thing when he critiqued me for not checking his email. (Cos that’s totally my responsibility, wtf.) My dad and stepmonster stopped by to feed scraps to my oudoor stray cats and it was all I could do to feign interest and plaster on a fake smile. I almost feel…disconnected. Yet I know it can swing to another extreme in the blink of an eye. This is a tightrope act I do not like at all.

My head is hurting. The sunlight is like slivers of glass being poked into my brain. I don’t like it. Tylenol is doing fuck all, I think it may be one of those light sensivity migraines which requires me to take shelter in a dark, quiet room. Those are not my favorite and I swear it was the light that started it in the first place. Of course, the doctors claim this is just some goth affectation, like having a headache is pleasant enough to be stylist, ffs. Not to mention, I am not goth, I just like gothy stuff. That this is considered some sort of personality flaw and mental health issue is insulting. Jebus, put a dimmer switch on the fecking sun.

Early school dismissal makes the day seem neverending. My god, it’s not even 5 pm yet and I am ready for my crypt. All this sunlight and noise and activity around me with people out and about and kids yelling and cars…UGH. It’s just too much stimulation.

Why is it when you make a choice that has a bad outcome, you are told to “learn from the mistake.” Yet if you do something repeatedly in an effort to “be open” only to learn it never works out…Then you’re just giving up and letting a bad experience hold you back. What the actual fuck is that? Life presents is with one catch 22 after another, you can never do the right thing.

Raised by wolves…Dad and stepmonster gave Spook this puppy purse when they popped by and already one of her little friends is trying to blackmail her: “Give it to me or I won’t be your friend.” My kid is a terror but she has basic manners, ffs. These friends of hers are little monsters and their parents just let them be.

Not even 6″30 pm and I am ready for bed, or at least my crypt. Unless things change with my mental status very soon, it is going to be a very long and grueling summer from hell. Why can’t I just snap out of it? I WANT to. But it’s not happening. Because that’s not how this mental illness shit works. But even I wish it did.

On a funny note…

white utensil

12 Responses to “Let’s do another Topic Not Otherwise Specified Post”

  1. I love it!! I understand totally!!

  2. We can be crazy best friends now…oh we need a group with you, me Blah, Zoe, Tessa and D…anyone else you can think of? And we need a really catchy name..
    I wish I were numb-numb is at least a feeling. I got shit. Nothing. I’ve got void turning black hole…fuckitall…and the worst part is that right now??? IDGAFF. *shrugs*

    • Volatile Femmes? Mood Swingers? Throat Punching Divas?
      Apathy is good on some things. The lithium did that for me. Flip side was, I couldn’t feel the good stuff either. I’d look at my kid and know I adore her and yet…Same lack of feeling as if doing dishes. UGH.
      Numb is better. I’ve given up on happy. Not batshit would be good.

      • I like volatile femmes-unassuming yet cautionary tale 😉 I am HATING apathy-is this what it is??-because I just don’t feel shit. You could kick a puppy and I would feel a fucking thing. Yesterday I told NSLM I am proud of him and I can’t fucking FEEL the pride! I feel absolutely nothing. I won’t give up on happy-but you’re right about not batshit would be great. I’ve got a date next Saturday w/cute neighbor guy…nothing. I’ve got nothing about that.

      • See, at least you’re interested enough to say yes. I simply don’t care if I ever see another person, especially a man, again. I’m too broke right now to have to deal with how broken they are,too. Pathetic how altered the Latuda has made us and yet we are treated like hallucinatory malingerers. I see the change is all of us that were on the stuff then stopped. Tessa got lucky without the aftermath we’re having, but it was bad for all of us period. Might as well prescribe anti freeze elixir.

      • He’s taking me for watching his daughter and the other night was a super late night-plus I haven’t asked his to pay me cash-he’s a single dad working 2 jobs. I can’t take advantage of that. Plus I’m not “looking” either-if that makes sense. I just see it as 2 parents having dinner-but this is my frame of mind right now. And I think it’s awesome you realize you aren’t in a good place. That’s a super great thing. You get a gold spork for that.
        I’m going to let the psych nurse and therapist read my blog so they can actually see how fucked up this med had made me. Yea because we asked for this kind of effect from a Ned meant to make us better. WTF is WRONG with ppl?! Yes Tessa is SUPER lucky to have dodged this garlic infused steak to the heart. Maybe we should go to Hogwarts and have Professor whatshisname mix us a potion…we would HAVE been better off with antifreeze..

  3. It goes to show that people believe mental illness = stupid. It doesn’t. I may be off the deep end but I can tell if someone is going or trying to fuck me over — lawyer included.

  4. “Puking rainbows”… What can I say… fucking love it!, you have a way with words
    Anxiety and panic attacks, get one talking to a bunch of children about fire alarms, but when I’m in a hostile social environment and trying to work out what the fuck I’m doing… Friggin nerves of ditanium alloy (titanium and diamond fused, sci-fi stuff!)
    As for suicide, the great escape!
    Three people, 1) The ones that do it, they die 2) The ones that try, everyone pours help on them 3) The ones that think of it but never do, survivors!
    A bit cold an assessment but having stared that beast down 1.25 times and watched someone with a bunch of pills in front of them, just in case whilst phonecalls are made, lost its edge to a degree but great fun to write poetry about someone slitting their wrists to vent the emotional poison in my veins.
    The term ‘fucked up’ is thrown around a lot, I like to think of it as a more truthful version of human nature, thus fine writers as yourself pique my interest and I have a few demons to of my own fucking up the mix, easier to deal with the damned than the happy bloody morons with a partner and kids “I’m so happy, we just…” This is the point I want to scream “Life screwed me over emotionally and stuck a jesters hat on me for fucks, stop telling me how perfect life is”, might be why I’m an antisocial bar steward!
    Anyway, crazy out my system and no doubt offence caused, I’m back to my dark cave of horrors to contemplate whether a gun or a box of pills is better!!! (Evil laughter ringing out)

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