Allow Me To Stab You With My Pointy Rays Of Sunshine

8:05 a.m., prepping for dish time, and my teeth are grinding, my heart is beating a little too fast, and that sense of dread has wakened pretzel gut. Yay. Throw in a top temp of 93, blinding sunshine, and I just know my day is gonna rule. (Please note sarcasm.) Mind you, I don’t purposely leap out of bed with the intention of declaring everything suckage. And even though it’s suckage, I’m prepared to face it. Maybe even survive it. Magic 8 ball isn’t telling me yet. (Come to think of it, I NEVER leap out of bed ‘cos I’m not a daywalker by choice.)

Yesterday, in spite of the smothering panxiety, I did keep my promises. Ya know, to brave Wally World and get R’s glasses fixed. Only they fucked it up, so I took them to  a second place, and they BROKE them. Then the roach killer we ordered came in the mail and it was ant bait. Cos roach and ant look exactly alike, easy to confuse. MORONS. Just a day where in spite of best efforts, nothing seemed to go right. BUT I FUCKING TRIED. Which is a very important thing with anxiety and bipolar disorder and yet in today’s “tough love” world of therapy, they like to focus on your failures more than your tiny victories. Oh, and they do soooo love to say, “Well, you’re doing it, so you must be better.” Um…Fuckest thou. Yesterday drained me, I was cryptified by 7pm because I just couldn’t stand any more input from the outside world. Least with my crime shows I’ve watched them so many times there’s no cliffhanger, no surprises, I know how it ends. Comforting.

Dreams galore. Fucked up bizarre dreams. Wake up, sleep, wake up, sleep. Voodoo and Absinthe both began yowling and making biscuits on my head around three a.m. Demanding food. Because they’re not cats, they’re furry piglets. I got up and fed them of course. Pondered food for myself as I was hungry but I have this thing if I let myself wake up too much…Takes forever to go back to sleep.I couldn’t even be bothered to get a drink of water. Shows you where I am on the food chain here. Kid, cats, outdoor cats, then me. And sometimes I’m too exhausted to bother with me. Not whining, just saying.

And there’s a topic for me to rant on. Since when did voicing a simple statement/opinion/fact become “complaining” or “whining”? “The sky is blue.” “The weather is too hot.” “I have a stomach ache.” “I’m feeling depressed.”  HOW IS THAT COMPLAINING? I’m just done with all the sunshine spewage. If that’s you, fine, but it’s not me. I’m not gonna judge someone a whiner simply because they declare they don’t feel well or that life sucks cos their mind is in a bad place. Lame to do that.Also, KARMA. Just remember when you’re in a good place and everything is going right for you so you perceive others as negative or whiny…Life runs in cycles. When you get the flu or shit goes wrong, someone could judge you as a whiner. Empathy and logic.

Ahhh, another excellent rant. GRATITUDE.  This one was shoved down my throat from an early age. The whole parental “When I was a kid, I had to walk ten miles in the snow with no shoes…” Um…It’s one thing to be thankful for what you do have. Many have far less. But to  be brainwashed into thinking, “I have no right to voice my dissatisfaction because someone has it worse…” It’s self invalidation and it’s bullshit. Now, mind you, there’s legit “I’m grateful but this isn’t optimal” and then there’s just spoiled brat ingratitude.

“I only have an iphone 4 and Biff and Muffy and McStupid have the iphone six, oh woe is me.”

Call a wahhmbulance.

Society grooms us to always want more, want better,want the biggest, or smallest, shiniest newest gidbadget. Yet if you so much as voice that you’d like to have, say, a car without dents or a home with central air…YOU ARE AN UNGRATEFUL PIECE OF SHIT.

These things are not bratty tantrums. Much as I like my car (well, technically in my mom’s name but still, I drive it and I love it) it would be nice if I could afford to fix the fender that crazy one bitch drove into and fucked up. I would love a home with all the amenities. Hell, since age 8, when I saw my babysitter’s family had one, I’ve fantasized about a fridge with the water and ice maker in the door. Spiffy!

32 years later, never had one, and I haven’t died. It’s OKAY to want better, to admire the shiny and technologically advanced. It doesn’t translate into, “Poor me to not have all the luxuries I deserve because I am so damned special and being forced to accept what crappy stuff I have is a tragedy.”

There’s rarely a day I don’t feel grateful for all that I have, even if by society’s standards, I am little more than trailer trash driving a beater and my kid and I are wearing used clothes. Considering I have mental health issues and woke up one day on a partial income to discover The Donor had left me a single mom with all the responsibility on me…I have done wondermously in keeping a roof over my kid’s head and meeting her basic needs.

It does not make me ungrateful simply because I have hopes of one day being in a position to give her an actual house with a pretty yard in a better neighborhood. At the moment, though, I am dealing in reality. I’m not gonna let my rent go unpaid so I can own ipads and iphones. I am not gonna let my power get cut off so my kid has shiny new clothes to impress others. I’m also not going to go overboard for her birthday next month to the extent I let things go unpaid, do without food, or take out a stupid “payday” loan. No, that’s what my mom and sister are doing. It’s not that I don’t think my kid deserves a nice birthday. I just deal from a place of logic. She’ll have a modest birthday on my end and as she breaks everything she touches…I don’t feel bad for that. I wish I could do the whole pony rides in the yard and bouncy house thing. I’d have a blast with the bouncy house.

It’s just not in the cards. And me wishing I could afford it doesn’t make me ungrateful for what I am able to provide.

Besides, while everyone else dreams of fancy tech products, fancy cars and houses and designer clothes, and winning the lottery…

My one true wish/dream/hope/fantasy…is to have my mental issues stabilized so that I can WORK and provide a better life for us both.

Now…I guess it’s the morning challenge of “I have to put on pants, damn it.” To my credit, I did shower yesterday. And did dishes. And a bit of laundry. It’s amazing how giving yourself permission to do nothing if you meet one little goal turns out to be so effective. Today’s therapy employees bullying tactics. That doesn’t work for me. No wonder I can’t make progress under that regime.

Where was I? Right. Pants and the dish. At least I get to enter my nightmare with the adorable image of Spook grooming the newbie kittens with a Dora comb. Oddly, the kittens seem to be enjoying it. That or she’s yapped them into submission.

Forget water boarding. Lock terrorists in a room with my child. After the thousandth why in an hour…They’ll beg to tell all.

 

 

 

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3 Responses to “Allow Me To Stab You With My Pointy Rays Of Sunshine”

  1. The ever elusive stable. I wish the same-to be able to take care of my kids. I don’t want all the fancy gadgetry and shiny shit. I like to LOOK at it, but I’d rather my kids be happy and healthy and taken care of than living in LALA Land. Logic is starting to win out for me. Lets lock all the terrorists/murderers/bad and stupid people in a room with the girls. We might even get all the Nuclear launch codes and can deal with that North/South Korea bullshit finally

    • I was also thinking of trying to solve the power shortage issue by sticking Spook on a big hamster wheel and having spawn powered appliances. If that didn’t wear her out so she’d sleep through the night, nothing would. 😉

      On Sat, Jul 18, 2015 at 12:34 PM, Take a Ride on My Mood Swing wrote:

      >

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