Effing Aftermath

And the cycle goes on…Following a week in the dish, topped off with the uber stressful birthday party…I’ve landed facedown in the depressive gutter. I am hostile, irritable, everything seems pointless, and I am buried alive, clawing to get out to no avail. If this is the cost of high functionality, is it so illogical I’d just prefer the constant “life in the slow lane” so there’s none of this splat shit?

Making it worse, I have a very sick kitten, no idea what happened, but it’s obvious he is dying. That will be 8 burials in four months. I’ve earned this “fuck you, world” attitude. Seems as long as I don’t form an attachment, evil things just live forever. The minute I let myself forge a bond…Oh, that must be taken away, buh bye, enjoy your misery. And for any jackass saying, “They’re just cats…” Fuck off and die in a fire. My cats are my family and they’re a lot more useful than most people.

Yeah, the pms is amping the hostility up ten fold. Such is the norm. I get the bipolar depression and I get the hormonal ride from hell all at the same time. Lucky fucking me. “It’s just an excuse to be a bitch.” Those thinkers also need to die in a fire.

Yesterday pushed my levels of tolerance to the breaking point. It wasn’t so much that my kid was bad. It was just my aftermath of too much sensory input and she decides this is the day to talk, loudly, non stop, for ten hours. I was snappy and the kitten thing had me in tears (viva la pms, I got my ninety seconds of tears) and my kid just kept talking and getting mad when I asked her for quiet time. It’s like being poked. You can only take so much before you hit the wall and start channeling satan. I despise raising my voice to my kid  and yet…She won’t respond to nice and quiet. Nope. It’s like she thrives on pushing until I bring out the mean voice. Then she backs off a little. By bedtime, my nerves could have snapped with little more than a gentle breeze.

I’ve decided today I am gonna do NOTHING. I tried to push myself yesterday,hit a couple of yard sales, picked up the yard, washed clothes, had her clean the cat boxes…But rather than defusing my hostility and making me all happy and shiny, it just made me more exhausted because it’s like AM I NOT ENTITLED TO A LITTLE BREAK FROM THIS INCESSANT GO, GO, GO THAT IS EXPECTED OF ME AND OUTSIDE MY SKILLSET? This isn’t some “woe is poor lil me” thing. It’s like I’ve absorbed the world’s pressure and apply it to myself when I should be cutting myself some slack. I did the functional bit all week even if it was like climbing a hill wearing stiletto heels. But having done that…The price is overload and falling apart. Is the world really going to end if I let myself take a break? Will unfolded laundry and dishes in the sink really result in the apocalypse?

There’s something that’s starting to bother me, though. The Focalin was amazing at first.  I haven’t read a book in months. I tried to watch five different movies yesterday and got halfway through each before giving up. I could not get interested.  Surely not all five could have been that bad? Yet, I can watch Deadly Women or Forensic Files marathons for hours. Probably helps that are short in duration and I don’t exactly sit still the whole time. I dunno, just thought I’d get back my attention span and my ability to organize but it has not happened. Definitely a bummer.

Now…to vegetate. It might motivate to take the pressure off. Though in my crampy achy hormonal state,I’m not gonna be devastated if motivation never happens. I am just gonna…breathe in, breathe out. (Thanks for putting that song in my head, Diane, it’s been there for two days now.)

 

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15 Responses to “Effing Aftermath”

  1. People just don’t FUCKING realize the constant unrelenting bombardment of (SEVERE LONG TERM depression esp in my opinion) mental illness inflicts on people. It takes SUCH AN IMPACT, TOLL. Nooo understand, let alone tolerance, etc,,, Kinda reminds me of something that someone with a severe/most likely terminal (freq long hospital stays) physical illness (CA, cystic fib, organ failure/transplant, etc). I would think NO ONE, NOT ONE person would deny compassion. FUCKING GRRR!!
    & about the song, your welcome LOL. MUAH! ;-*

  2. Sorry to hear about the kitten 😦

  3. People who don’t know anything and claim to know just need to die in a fire. I’m so fed up with the lack of understanding. It’s not that they aren’t capable of compassion. Show them a one legged dog or whatever the fuck physical illness and they’re like “aww man that must suck.” Come into the picture and we just need to bitch less. Fuck you fuckers.

  4. So sorry about your kitty, that’s awful. Also, very relatable on the mental illness + hormones. Every month I generally spend 3-7 days wanting to set my actual body on fire because everything feels so utterly WRONG.

  5. 😦 Sorry about the kitten. You know I’m really great with fire. And I DO have REALLY good people skills, and I can charm the PANTS off anyone…js. All of them are assfucks because it can’t be seen. I’m not shiny now. I’m spent from me weekend and I wanna go to bed. Love the other post too. *I saw Bush in February*

  6. I’ll set the perimeter at two miles around you and send in the masseuses, with super vet to boot, then maybe a few idiots and some foam sticks to beat them with
    Would that help!

  7. Sorry about the kitty. Sass be careful with the fire. I am terrified of it. < 3

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