Baby Sporks

FB_IMG_1440419385724I couldn’t be arsed to come up with a better title for this post. I’m busy balancing the post stress of dropping my kid off amidst the mini vans and SUVs puking forth little pastel clad demons and the morning med hypomanic burst. It feels a lot like carrying grenades barefoot across broken glass and the pins are out, so one false move…BOOM.

Yesterday was blah. I had to find my give a damn to do some housework when I noticed my kid eating dry cereal off a plate. All the bowls were dirty. Demmit. Tossed in laundry, washed my bedding, cleaned the cat boxes. With all the enthusiasm of one facing a firing squad. Which is how I approach pretty much everything these days. Later in the evening Spook and I went over to R’s for pizza and to watch some Flash in prep for the new season. I was so low I didn’t think it’d hurt. I mean, the professionals say getting out is supposed to make it better.

It really doesn’t.

I ripped the band aid off yesterday and finally, after four years, filled out the child support papers, sealed the envelope, put a stamp on, and tossed it into the mail box. The thought of him insinuating himself back into our lives makes me want to throw up. His mind games are damaging to me and eventually to Spook. The law may say he has rights, but when you walk out on three kids and fail to support any of them…I think paying support without any visitation rights would be appropriate. I’m an evil bitch, though.

I need to call Safelink about toilet phone. I have to buy my own since this is the third one to be destroyed (I only did this one, the other two were my mom’s doing, cos sitting an electronic device next to your sweating tea glass is totally appropriate.) I think then I have to call for them to send one of their chips and that’s an hour or two of my life i’ll never get back. I gotta renew the food benefits for Spook. At some point I have a shrink appointment coming up, I’ll be damned if I know when though.

I’m so on top of things,I noticed after two days that the half gallon of milk I bought wasn’t in the fridge.  Nope, because it was in my trunk. Cottage cheese, anyone?

I kept breaking out in hives all weekend due to anxiety. I wish the doctor could see that. I know they are hives because they vanish as soon as I am calmer. Not to mention it was diagnosed when I was a teenager and there were no animals or greenery to explain an allergy. “You internalize stress and your body breaks out in hives.” Brilliant. Not a solution. Of course the solution is always the same useless shit. Exercise, diet, sunlight, blah blah blah. Tried it all. Epic fails, all of it.

For all my bitching about the heat…It’s cooled down drastically and I can feel my mood going further down every morning when I’m shivering and finding it hard to pry myself out of the warm covers. Lack of sunlight, my ass.

I feel doomed. Not in some paranoid way. Just…I’ve been doing the med bit for so long and I get better, I go down the rabbit hole, and the doctors and counselors are at a loss so they just think it’s some personality flaw. If sheer desire counted for anything, I’d never need a pill, never feel depressed, never have to rely on disability for income and jump through flaming hoops to prove I have a legit illness…Without a mental health team that gives a damn I’m truly on my own. And while they wanna get out there pompoms and say, “You’re functioning in spite of it all, you can do it!” it’s always that way. I’m doing it until I crash land and I never see it coming.

Guess I will watch more CSI and putter about. I could fold the four baskets of laundry. Ugh. Unfolded laundry never killed anyone…I don’t want to think negatively but when things just turn out negative again and again…Optimism seems inappropriate.

Now stick a spork in me, I am done.

 

 

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6 Responses to “Baby Sporks”

  1. Ouch, it always feels so inappropriate to like something that ends like that. I’m sorry I don’t get why you’d be evil in sending out child support forms. I don’t know enough of your story to comment further but from what you said yes of course a man should be paying for child support!! My ex did it for like four months out of 15 years and he can rot in hell for that. That’s not evil talk either!

  2. If my life SUX, why can’t I trade it on?? I hate {*phone autocorrected Jäger (I use swype keyboard)} folding laundry, so I fold it ‘casually’,,, DON’T DROP THE GRANADE!! ;-*

  3. You’re medium rare. You’re over cooked. Gotta toss you out and start another.
    Love you

  4. Oh-and damn proud of you for filling out the paperwork. I know you loathe the thought of his sociopathic self coming back, but you need the monetary help, and he should be held accountable for ALL of his kids. Assfuck.
    Very very VERY proud of you. Spork of fortitude

  5. Take a pic of the hives to “prove” to the damn doctors that they exist. You sure as hell shouldn’t have to, but if they insist on being asshats….unfortunately we must adjust.
    And you’re right, unfolded laundry never hurt anyone. If it’s out of the dryer, that should be good enough!

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