Foot Naked

Yep. Foot naked is my kid’s term for bare feet. I had to laugh when I told her she didn’t need shoes on right now and she burst out, “But, I can’t have naked feet, Mommy!”

Indoors, I am fairly sure it’s not indecent to have naked feet. Ya never know though, some states have some pretty obscure laws still on the books.

Once the dish outing was completed…It’s been a fairly calm day. Spook’s been a dream child, playing in her room, no fits, few demands. Not too hit. If I could just quash the noise of people, lawn mowers, weed whackers, traffic, and put a dimmer switch on the sun…I’d be golden.

I can feel the golden moment passing. Tis how it goes with me. When I can function “normally” I go with it, but I always end up tapped out and need recovery time. I don’t get how the very thing that seems to energize others and make life worth living is the very thing that makes me a basketcase.

I’ve done fuck all today but cook myself a meal. Or well, wrap it in foil and bake it. Well, in the dish, I was running all about since R’s car was down. But I took off around noon after running the deposit to the bank for him. He fed me Taco Bell for my trouble. Only thing on their menu I can choke down are plain crunch tacos, meat and cheese ONLY. Can’t stand that stuff.

Surprisingly, I can’t even work up a good rant.

I can, however, express great anxiety. I see the shrink tomorrow afternoon. Joy, joy. Let’s see, what are my options…

If I bathe and wear clothes that don’t reek, he will make a note that I am clean and likely cured.

If I don’t gussy up, he’ll make a note that says I showed up and likely cured.

Meh, fucker. I don’t even know what to say. If I report the mixed episodes, he’s gonna go back on the Lithium thing and I want to avoid that shit like the black plague until I can’t anymore. Lamictal is fine. It’s this anti depressant bullshit that, for 8 months, has been haywire. I like the Cymbalta, it gives me energy and I haven’t been cryptifying so early as often. I don’t want to come off it but he’s made it clear 60mg is my max dose. I am also getting worried, as it hit me today…I am cheering on the start of school and all…But it also means, seven weeks until the season change. Which brings on the seasonal which never really went away from last year. For every two mild/”good” days I have, I have five that are either low or mixed. I’m hardly gonna call that “under control and optimal”.

At least he’s willing to take time to talk to me. I don’t know what good it will do, we all know if you don’t follow their expert advice you’re being non compliant.

Hey,maybe all this dish time the last couple of days will result in the bottom dropping out and I will be a complete wreck tomorrow. No, that would make sense. The one time a month I get to actually see my doctor…My mind decides to panic so the doctor thinks I’m hypomanic therefore not depressed.ASSFUCKERY.

I get so wound up prior to appointments. Will it go well? Am I gonna come out so pissed off I spew flames? Ha, kinda like my mood, never know what it will be, either.

It hit me earlier that as long as you make it to your dr appts, they seem to think that somehow means you’re high functioning. Yet if you’re so bad off you forget appointments or get the times messed up or can’t bring yourself to leave the house or even make a call…Well, that’s non compliance and you just don’t want to get better. Not, “I have a patient in that bad of shape, maybe we should dispatch a nurse or someone to assess her in person.”

I know, I know, I’m a dinosaur, remembering that time when doctors gave a fuck and would make house calls and such for a patient not doing well.

He just better damn well keep his word and DO SOMETHING with the meds to ward off that seasonal depression. If it hits me and I’m still in last year’s depression, I’d better be ordering straight jackets in black ‘cos by the holidays, I’ll be wearing them. I’m tired of mimicking emotion, faking smiles, being “funny” because it is expected. (And it’s not so easy to be funny and fun to be around with the mundanes.)

Now, don’t anyone drop dead (‘cos corpses make flies and maggots and I ain’t cleaning that shit up off my blog page) but I had a bonafide positive thought today.

Spook turns six next Friday. Which means, I have kept a kid alive for six years, and for four of those years…I’ve done it on my own. Aside from needing a sitter for a few fours or a sleepover here and there with the grandparents…I am the one who has raised her. In spite of my issues, in spite of money hardship, I have kept her alive and healthy all this time.

That’s a win I need to take and pat myself on the back for.

Of course, I’m sure the fact I haven’t lost her at the store or poisoned her with my bad cooking means I AM CURED.

It’s amazing that you’re not allowed to make one iota of progress  because then people say, “See, you’re not sick anymore.” The same idgets who watch you drown for six months in a non bathing pajama wearing swimming pool yet still say you’re not sick. There is no win  with mental illness.

I say, bring on the zombie apocalypse. I will side with the zombies and act as their brain pimp, procuring them only the smartest, tastiest brains.

Which means in  this town…They’re gonna fucking starve.

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11 Responses to “Foot Naked”

  1. Just sayin’, watch out about that comment not dropping dead cuz corpses make flies & maggots,,, Some sunshine, butterflies, unicorns & rainbows, shiny happy person may comment/point out that (*them saying “tee-hee, giggle, giggle”) ‘that’ll cause decomposition, resulting in rich nutrient filled soil that pretty, pretty flowers will bloom in your much hated sunshine,,, LOL! Love ya Chicka!! ❤

    • I’m such a dork! 🙂 Good luck at your Pdoc tomorrow! 😉 ❤ 🙂

    • i just threw up a little. Thanks dude!

      Ya know, though…The femmes are gonna have a hella garden if we go with that method of fertilizer. Everyone will want one so we can sell our “infused” soil. It can be called…Pegacorn PLOTTING soil.

      • Ha! I didn’t offend ya, but made ya a look lil’ nauseated!?! 😉 *1 point Diane,,, Eeewww,,, that infused soil thingy was on an ’08ish episode of Criminal Minds

      • Ha,but yeah, they at least killed them before planting them. There’s an awful cheesy horror flick from the early 80’s called Motel Hell and these old folks actually plant people in dirt and “grow them” for the meat they sell from their motel. Ya ain’t lived til you’re an 8 year old child watching someone tie a rope around a neck and plucking ’em out of the garden still alive with a tractor. My mom may have been too lenient.

        On Wed, Jul 29, 2015 at 8:02 PM, Take a Ride on My Mood Swing wrote:

        >

      • Eeewww, remember the scene at the fair, one of the backwoods hee haws tasted the meat, bit down on a bone & said something gross (I forget what)?

  2. I saw Motel Hell! Eeewww! LOVE horror movies! My Mommy, Daddy & my brother always watched em when I was 3+ years old! There used to be a channel/station that had them on Sat afternoons & Fri or Sat late nights,,,

  3. I’m out on the horror stuff, in on the new Pegacorn Plotting Soul. Yay! Here’s your cake Vodka for keeping spook alive despite being “cured”. Assfuckery abounds. Maybe if you wear something covered in cat hork tomorrow…

  4. House calls? You know who gets house calls? My dog. The vet always checks in on her. Me? I’m lucky enough to get an automated appointment reminder call. I’ve been waiting three months for the cardiologist. They called to say I was going to be pushed back another month because there are “higher risk patients” which translates to not being an old prune whom they can benefit from by prescribing 10 drugs for heart disease.

    ‘Cause young people don’t have heart problems.

    “IT’S THE ANXIETY,” THEY SAID.

    • Ha, every issue I’ve ever had has been anxiety. Thus when I finally die from something they should have diagnosed twenty years ago…I hope my family sues them and takes even the fillings from their teeth and the lint from their pockets.

      Okay,I’m sarcastically dramatic, but seriously. Once you get that mental health diagnosis, it’s like you can’t possibly have an actual illness cos you’re too crazy to discern when you’re not feeling well. Assfuckery.

      On Thu, Jul 30, 2015 at 5:20 AM, Take a Ride on My Mood Swing wrote:

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