31 Days Feels Like 31 Years

I don’t know why that one day difference between months ending in 30 or 31 is, but for whatever reason, it makes me feel like the 31 day months are never gonna end. And okay, you could say it’s because I’m broke by week two and waiting for the check but…I’m used to being broke, it’s not new, it’s actually my birthright. And I don’t get much out of it anyway  between bills, kid, and cats, so I don’t think that’s it all. Frankly, I don’t know why I even care or notice. Just seems to me May, July, August- 31 days feel like 31 years.

Got my kid off to school without yelling at anyone. Though she yelled at me plenty because she was sooo tired and flailed on the floor like a fish out of water for a half hour instead of getting dressed then whined when she had to eat her cereal in a hurry. Blah. I’m not a morning person, either, and with it becoming cold so fast, I want to get out of bed even less. I did anyway, suck it up. My mom empathy is MIA. My kid has one of those personalities that just irk me. I don’t like know it alls, I don’t like people who have no grasp of what others go through but want an ambulance called when they get a hangnail. I don’t like loud people, I don’t like people who talk too much, I don’t like bossy people. And my kid has all those qualities. I try so very hard to not take it personally, to remind myself she’s just a child…But always in the back of my mind is that nagging little voice mumbling, “God, I feel sorry for whatever man or woman marries her…”

And I didn’t become so sensitive to her behaviors til this past year, and I kept blaming the depression or anxiety. She was this way last year and the year before so it’s who she is, even if I am trying to chisel away at the jagged edges so she doesn’t stab anyone or herself by being a butthead. I maintain she’s irritating, and others back me up on that. But I’m the only one it grates on and since it wasn’t such a metastasized issue last year, I’m gonna go out on a limb here and say…This bipolar cycle I’ve been on for ten months has made me too irritable to even accept my own kid for who she is. I take no pride in that. I think it does demonstrate however that my doctor’s dismissiveness is way out of line because this is a MAJOR alteration in my perception and thinking.

Hell, maybe I need an anti psychotic. Not that they’ve ever done a damned bit of good other than knocking me out and making me gain weight even while living on water and saltines.

I did some busy work around the house yesterday. At the time it felt like an accomplishment. Now it just seems like, “Wow, you did three little things, you’re a lazy ass.” I was not in a great state, to be honest. The anxiety and depressive thoughts hit hard and I actually went to the shop just to hang out and not be alone with those thoughts. It didn’t help much, but it was at least a change of scenery and a buffer between me and going off the deep end believing the depressive lies. Pretty bad when I willingly go into the dish to escape being alone with myself.

I was ready for bed by 9p.m. last night. But I forced myself to get up and take a shower (only because the itchiness was making me claw at my own flesh). Once refreshed by that, I even cooked up some hamburger helper for my supper. Then I tried to sleep. Failed. Took a Melatonin. Slept, woke, slept, woke. Spook got in my bed.But hey, she’s managed three entire nights in her own bed, so I’ll take the improvement with a bit of backslide. It’s gone from so hot to so drastically cold at night, I am feeling the depressive tug more than ever. It’s the fucking cold and I try to tell the doctors that and they still insist it’s lack of sunlight. So why am I feeling it now when the sunlight’s not affected? Could it be that I just don’t fit some neat little category in a book and actually know myself?

Crazy talk.

Damnit. When I first took my meds, my brain was swirling with hypomanic thoughts and ideas what I wanted to write. But then I had to take her to school and…it’s gone. I’ve got nothing. For awhile I was writing a decent post here and there. Now I’ve returned to the land of Babylon where I just babble on and on. (Now I have the Faster Pussycat song “Babylon” stuck in my head.)

Oh, well. Babble is venting just the same. For now, courtesy of R, my cats have food and litter, I have smokes, and the sky is not falling. YET. It doesn’t help do the dishes in the sink that are taunting me nor does it give me a functional vacuum or a brain that works properly.

But amid the 31 day months where it feels interminable and nothing feels like it will ever get better…I’ll take what little comfort I can get. And having a friend who hands their credit card to you so your cats won’t starve is a pretty good comfort to have.

Even if it means I’ll probably spend the next month listening to him talk about broken stuff.

To be a troll, maybe I will reciprocate and start babbling and giggling about things I’m preoccupied with. Like lipstick and eyeliner and cute boots and leather jackets and OMG DID YOU SEE THE VAMPIRE DIARIES LAST NIGHT, I CAN’T BELIEVE ELENA IS GONE…

I doubt he’d draw the parallel. Better just take the cat food and smokes and listen like a good little girl to the latest busted item de jour. I just can’t resist being a trolls sometimes…It’s a character flaw.



13 Responses to “31 Days Feels Like 31 Years”

  1. ,,, welll it’ss a little past summertime,,, *now you got Faster Pussycat ‘House of Pain’ in my head 😉 ;-*

  2. I feel the same about 31 days. Mostly I’m dreading Sept. All the shit happens then.

    • For me, September means people start going inside so I am less stressed. Which balances out the depression it brings. I am always told to embrace the positive but in this case, I, am told accepting depression as being better than anxiety is a dysfunction. If you ask me…I’m finding the good side in the pile of crap.

      • And they say we don’t have enough positive thinking. Finding the good side in a pile of crap is our equivalent to a bright rainbow. People who don’t think so need to get nuked.

      • I find balance is key in this sunshine spewage culture. Some days everything sucks and some days, you find a silver lining (might be mercury, might be something I can pawn for money) amidst all the suckery.
        A realistic attitude is what keeps me afloat rather than trying to convince myself there’s a sunny side to some stuff. Seriously, what kind of moron finds a positive in child molestation or murder?
        Some. Things. Just. Suck.
        Nuke ’em all and let the sacred pegacorn sort ’em out.

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