Return of the Spawn

They brought my kid back around six p.m. She was home twenty minutes before she started screaming at me. Because I made her eat supper and wouldn’t give her cookies instead. She tells me how much she missed me…Then starts screaming again. Told me life isn’t worth living and it’s all my fault. Which is apparently the theme of the day because she had drama mimi on Dad and stepmonster too when her little friend over there didn’t do what Spook demanded and that wasn’t her fault either.I told her to go to her room, when I she said it was the “friends in her head” and wouldn’t talk calmly to me. She got in my face and screamed NO. That was it. Done. And she was out within ten minutes so I gonna chalk it to her being overtired.

My dad had to brighten my day by telling me he drove by and the donor is home. AND I CARE WHY… Seriously, my dad cares more than I do, but then my dad always thought he was a saint so he had further to fall when he was proven wrong. I knew in my gut all along the donor was evil. Just a shame mental illness puts you in a place where people can manipulate you into thinking it’s all in your head, your damage, they’re perfect. I made my choices but I wasn’t acting on correct information from any point. Except my gut knew what I allowed myself to be talked out of. The gut knows. If someone gives you the creeps, it’s usually for a reason. Lesson learned well on that one. Even if it makes me a paranoid tinfoil hat wearer, I no longer ignore my gut or allow people to convince me it’s all my own mental damage.

R has beckoned tomorrow. Which means the spawn will be at mom’s. Ugh. I so love going to hang out with someone who’s a “friend” yet doesn’t speak for me for days at a time unless he needs something. But I figure if I appease him first thing this week, the rest of my week should be demand free. The things I will do for smokes. I’m such a nicotine fiend.

In what is perhaps karma or irony, he called me again and told me his wife is having problems with her teeth and could I please text her the info for my dentist I sent him to. ‘Cos my dentist is small town backwoods and a bit nerdy but he is competent and CHEAP. Fifteen years ago R used to mock me for being so cheap and having the hook up on all things discount. Now that money’s tight and my knowledge is valuable…Ha ha ha ha. My thriftiness is the only reason I’ve managed four years of child rearing on a partial income. You learn to make do with what you have. Kicker of it all is, they have dental insurance through her job but they have to pay up front then get reimbursed and usually only get about 30% covered. Again…Ha ha ha ha, Thrifty poor chick to the rescue.

It’s been going on two years now that my kid keeps saying she has “friends in her head”. And I don’t know what to make of it. Imagination? Her own thoughts? She blames all her bad behavior on the friends in her head, which seems rather opportune to me. Keep hoping it is a phase that fades away. I’ve taken her a child psychologist. Who blamed everything on me and my kid acting out in anxiety because she sees I have it.

It’s absolute bullshit. There is NO excuse for a five year old to draw her fist and scream into my face. NONE. I don’t care if I am chewing bubble wrap and dressed in tin foil, that does not justify her acting that way. That counselor was utterly useless. I’m not out to cure my kid of being a kid. I want help knowing what’s normal kid behavior and what are signs of more serious, potentially problematic behavior. Like raising her fist to me and screaming. I try to talk to her calmly and she keeps screaming. How any counselor can say that the child bears no responsibility and doesn’t owe me respect and it’s my anxiety and mental issues…Borderline malpractice, if you ask me.

Mental healthcare here is a fucking joke. I’m not picky in wanting competence. I don’t need people to agree with me. I need them to fucking help me with what I tell them is going on that is hindering my life. Instead, they just want to treat me like some example straight out of the DSM, one size fits all, all your problems are the same, every solution is the same. Is it any wonder I’ve got an attitude about it? You go to these professionals for help, for a little validation and support, and they just make you feel like you’re to blame for the decline of western civilization as well as the Lindburg baby kidnapping.

I guess I am gonna try to split the 60 mg Cymbalta capsules so I can do the split dose. In case anyone hasn’t noticed, I’m kind of off the rails on the full once a day bit. My doctor would just say it’s all in my head. Where else would mental illness be? In my spleen?

I am contemplating doing my crypt thing even though it’s only a little after 8 pm and my kid is zonked so I could write or something. If I were at all inspired. I did do dishes today. Woo hoo. Super productive. She won’t be down long, so if I am gonna sleep, I should probably do it now. Ha. I’d need alcohol, of course, for scumbag brain to cooperate. The 1mg Xanax helps, eventually, but still takes two to three hours. That was why I liked Xanax in the first place, it doesn’t make me groggy and the others either made me the walking dead or didn’t do a damned thing (Tic-tac-o-pin, Buspar, Ativan…) Oh, well. Sleep is for the dead and I’m 42 so I guess another ten, twenty years, I’ll get  all the sleep I want. Except I plan to donate my body to science so I won’t actually be taking a dirt nap. Though I giggle at the thought that some med student might take my corpse to a kegger and dance with it. I have a macabre sense of humor. It’s one of my most awesome traits. Not my fault others have such mundane normal humor.

Last post of the day, I promise. Unless the friends in  my head climb out and start swinging chainsaws. I’m gonna video that and post it to youtube!

 

 

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