Optimist, Pessimist, Realist

HONESTLY… I am uber sick of the rah rah positive attitude posts. They don’t belong in the mental illness category. They just make us feel like losers who don’t try hard enough and simply have a pessimistic attitude. It’s factoid that there is NOTHING shiny and happy about having a wonky brain.

Pompoms can only go so far, face it. I can stare at a pile of dog poo and try to convince myself it’s the color of rainbows and smells like line dried laundry but…it’s still a stinky pile of poo. Sometimes…it’s not attitude, it’s simply realism.

Depression, bipolar, and anxiety SUCK. I am not gonna wake up one day and decide, oh, mental illness will be much more awesome if I delude myself by blowing sunshine up my own skirt.

IF this self delusion/positive attitude thing helps YOU, personally…More power to you. I’m just sick of the saturation. It’s very Star Trek/Borg “you will be assimilated, resistance is futile”. Like if we fail to adopt the sunshine spewer attitude, we somehow deserve mental illness. Because a hundred thousand people who were depressed for six months and got all better can now see things in a positive light…chronically mentally ill people should as well.

To each their own. Quit puking rainbows on me, dude. I never go seeking it and yet there it is in every corner of the blogosphere and interwebs. Mood shaming is not better than fat shaming so KNOCK IT OFF.

What I did today…Hmm…

Spent 4.5 hours at the shop. An hour or so my ass. LIES. And my kid kept yapping and squirming and that annoyed his royal assholiness even though he’d been warned and I offered to do his stuff from home. He said, noo, need you here. That was for twenty minutes while he ran to the bank. Beyond that…I could have done it all from home, in about ten minutes, without him dicking around. Frustrating. Of course, I should STFU because I got a pack of smokes and he put gas in my car and bought lunch for me and the spawn…Still…An hour means an hour, not four and a half.

The insult to injury part was that they were doing street construction right outside the shop. Lots of heavy equipment, banging metal, and oh, someone was blaring country music from a boom box. I honestly felt like the world was out to punish me. Throw in some traffic when he sent me out for multiple errands with my gas tank on E so I was panicking to begin with and everyone was driving like their moron selves…GRRRR. Petri dish is pure fucking evil.

Mrs R bought him a printer for his birthday, since the shop has been without one for over a year and he’s had me using my library card to print return labels. It was still sitting in the wrapping paper today. So I set it up, not because I wanted to rob him of enjoying his gift but  because we needed a label printed out and it just made more sense to install the damn thing and set it up than go to the library. That, and it’d still have been sitting there in the unopened box a year from now if left to him. I’m almost envious, but only because he has a printer with ink. I have almost the same all in one but I haven’t been able to afford ink cartridges in two years BECAUSE APPARENTLY PRINTER INK IS MADE OF MAGIC SQUID SPOOGE THAT HAS TO BE MILKED BY HANDS OF MERMAIDS THUS COSTING ARMS, LEGS, AND SPLEENS.

Finally got to come home, but not before he shoved a desktop computer off on me some friend of his wants up and running. The clencher? IT RUN ON WINDOWS 98. Kill it with fire, for fuck’s sake, if you can’t upgrade to at least XP! Not worth my time. Who even wants to deal with win 98 anyway? It’s like choosing to undergo a weekly root canal.

Once back in my bubble…I started to pipe down. Enter Xanax. A neighbor girl came knocking to play with Spook and as has been  the pattern for weeks now, Spook spazzed out, acting terrified and declaring, “She’;s gonna punch me!” I had to send the girl home, just like I sent two  of them home last night. (Only because they showed up at 8:45 p.m., which in my opinion is too late for a 5 year old to play outside). I mowed the lawn, only by force of will. A neighbor boy was riding his bike out front and stopped and stared at me the entire time I mowed, while my kid rapid fire yapped at me. Bad enough to have to mow, but to be yapped at and gawked at? ASS TRASH.

Gave myself and the spawn a cool down shower. Ran out so I could grab a frozen lasagna for supper since I forgot to thaw something out for myself. I bought my kid a box of crayons even though her incessant yapping and disobedience today probably meant she didn’t deserve them. I did it for me, figuring if she is coloring in a book, she’s not climbing on me. (Bad Mommy.) I don’t think anyone grasps how this kid is glued to me 24-7. Even R says I’m a saint for being able to tolerate her. Sometimes, you just need to breathe and that excludes having children hanging off of you.

I guess other than mowing the lawn, bathing, and serving my time as R’s captive audience…I did fuck all. And I am okay with it. I am gonna sleep like the dead tonight. For the two hours before my kid invades my space. She even talks in her sleep. Last night, she woke me, even though she was still asleep mostly, to tell me I had to stop eating dirt. I have NO idea.

She’s still refusing to go to bed. I said ten p.m., line drawn in the sand. I need a frigging break from the incessant noise. I probably won’t write or even watch anything, I’m tapped the fuck out. But I did okay today. I won’t spew any sunshine because it could all come flying apart at any time. I won’t discuss tomorrows and positivity and the future because…

All I can do is get through each day. That feat is my big act of optimism, my dedication to getting better, my rebel yell, so to speak.

Maybe it’s not enough for the masses but it’s enough for me. And there’s nothing wrong with being a realist.



5 Responses to “Optimist, Pessimist, Realist”

  1. Real is real and holy mother of god you go against the grain you rebel. Love you for that

  2. “mental illness will be much more awesome if I delude myself by blowing sunshine up my own skirt”
    Haha, thanks for the laugh. 🙂 I needed it.

    “Like if we fail to adopt the sunshine spewer attitude, we somehow deserve mental illness.”

  3. Oh yes,,, rainbows, sunshine & sunsets ~ if only!!I tried deluding myself for DECADES! Yeah, that totally fuckin’ works! Shit, I even used alcohol, weed, etc,,, that only helps (if not making things worse) very temporarely. Why do you think so many people with MI have dual diagnosis…Get a fucking clue people, WTF do they think we do, REALLY?!? Well then I guess people break their own legs/arms for attention/sympathy, or cause their own cardiac problems, etc,,, don’t cast that limb, don’t Rx heart meds. They’re asking for it! Let em suffer, it’s their fault after all!! BTW, don’t eat dirt? Are you a vacuum cleaner, a Dirt Devil perhaps?? Hugs ❤

  4. There is a time for sunshine spewing/attempts at positive thinking (done in a way that works for me, no one else) and there is a time when it only makes me feel worse. It’s like any other tool. As for being judged about not doing it enough; well, I’m with you in contemplating creative uses for unicorn horns.

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