I don’t know how else to explain what I’m feeling today. Just disconnected from everything and everyone. Almost like I’m on the outside looking in. Apathetic, shut off, shut down…But under the surface my anxiety is boiling, heading toward a panxiety episode. Calm before the storm, the next calamity is coming…And after the last couple of weeks, one would have to admit I have just cause to be paranoid and wary. Shrinks and therapists say fearing the worst hinders life and isn’t healthy yet so many times I’ve been lost to a depression or haze and been caught off guard. Had I kept up my vigilant stance of anticipating the worst…It wouldn’t have crushed me so bad.

My way is my way and it’s bizarre and contradictory of normal therapy…I just find it useful to me.

Thus far this morning, I’ve talked to my dad on the phone (he’s been civilized again.) I managed to do the Mt Vesuvius of dishes that have amassed the last few days. Which sucked cos I actually had this dream and it seemed so real, where I’d already done the dishes…Hate doing dishes. Hate hate hate it. Love sticking them in a dishwasher though I’ve never owned one, just used others’.

I made a big pot of ghoul-ash (sue me, Halloween is coming, I’m letting my freak flag fly) and delivered some to mom and her roomie at the hotel, then located sis and their team of movers at the burned out house to drop some off to them. I despise cooking for others. Mainly because everyone has their own preference and it’s impossible to please everyone. My mom is super picky, she doesn’t believe in seasoning beyond salt and pepper and she prefers everything fried rather than baked…Ugh, I don’t envy my sister the task of cooking for her the last 20 years.

I wasn’t apathetic last night. I’ve been watching Sons Of Anarchy because I don’t do anything trendy, I wait til it falls out of favor then get into it…And they killed off Tara with a kitchen pokey fork thing to the skull and I just know Jax’s scumbag mom is gonna get away with it…I was fucking livid. Yes, I take shows that seriously sometimes. Now that they’ve pissed me off, I’ve decided I’m not gonna bother watching the final series ending season. Maybe one day but not now. I’ve got enough evil in reality getting away with shit, I don’t need to watch it, too.

I really should get off my ass and do some housework. When even I am ashamed at how bad it’s gotten, that’s pretty bad. It’s weird cos I read all these posts where people carry on about “filthy housekeeping” and I roll my eyes, thinking, wow, I don’t want to meet this fussy butt. Some of us just have other priorities. My theory is the five second rule becomes the five minute rule to eat food off the floor. Builds up the immune system. Okay, I don’t let my kid eat off the floor but still…I think this trend of turning children into helpless little snowflakes who are practically put in bubbles to avoid germs and smoke and pet hair and peanuts and pegacorn poop…It’s created a bunch of wussies with no immune system. You gotta build one and if nothing dirty is ever fought off, you can’t build it up.

Yeah, yeah, bring on the tar and feathers, whatever. I’m too disconnected to care. I just want to get caught up a bit, then say fuck it. Long as we have clean dishes, clean clothes and a pathway down the hall…Meh.

I can’t remember when I showered last. Thursday? Friday? It got cold suddenly and when I am cold and not sweating, I don’t even think about a shower until my hair starts feeling gnarly. That’s the depression. I used to be a total fashionista snot, even if my fashion was my own style and not the trend. Now I’m doing slobwear. And not able to give a damn. That’s pathetic.

“How does depression affect your ability to lead a normal life?”

I’m so tired of being asked that. LOOK at me. I’m the walking friggin dead here, two steps from donning a floral print muumuu and getting so fat they have to remove the wall to hoist me out. When you get to that point of apathy, it’s a bad sign.

And the weird part is, I AM feeling better at the higher Cymbalta dose but then, I was so low, it’d be damn near impossible not to feel some improvement. I just loathe the idea of starting another med. Stick with the devil I know. Yet if I continue to slide as the weather changes all the while the doctor insists it’s loss of sunlight…GRRRR.

I guess my disconnection can be turned back on and into anger when I think of how catch 22 everything is.

Laundry. I should do that. Convince myself I was productive today so I can go to bed early and sleep. Except that’s plagued with the bizarre dreams. Another week of the dish and school pick up in front of me. I’m not the only one, others have complained about the hassle, too, especially when it gets bad weather and we either sit in our cars while the kids stand outside in the cold waiting for us to run the traffic jam to get to them, or we park a block away and the kids have to trudge through the cold.

Superintendent never did respond to my letter with the Mapquest milage, asshole.

Breathe, Morgue…Breathe.

Okay, I’m not disconnected from my anxiety or anger.

I’d much rather be connected to something positive yet I think losing Abby and Arsenic broke me in some way. I’m afraid to bond with anything or anyone now. Least not to that degree.

So much ass trash is life.


21 Responses to “Disconnected”

  1. Oh my God…when you said you were gonna buy a muumuu and let it all go I actually perked up out of this nothing land that I’ve been living in. That’s what I’m gonna do. I’ve had it with my clothes getting tighter and tighter because of stupid medication weight gain. Nice floral print muumuus all around!

    • I kinda stole the muumuu/fat thing from an episode of The Simpsons, Homer did it so he could work from home (too fat to leave home.)
      Still…It’s inviting. I’d want a skull print, of course. OOh, roses and skulls so I meet my own standards as well as pretty flowers to be feminine.
      I’m not well, I know.

  2. Slobwear, love it. Everytime I get close to feeling okay, I start fantasizing about buying a bundle of sharp new clothes. I’m a guy. I’ve ALWAYS worn slobwear. But now it’s not okay. Even if I’m sitting in my room writing all day, I want to look sharp, like those 19th century fuckers who slept in their cravats and vests and monocles. But for now, it’s still slobwear. But soon…but soon…the meds will work their magic…and I will stride out the door all classy and tricked and casual elegant, and I will with infinite gentlemanliness and politeness and non-creepiness ask out the first cashier who smiles at me. Ha. Promise I won’t.

    Sorry you feel broken over your losses. That’s such a real thing. Something does break. And then it just aches and aches and aches. And then, THEY say, it mends, and your heart opens again, etc. Dunno. Not there yet. Feel like maybe I’m just recently sliding from break to ache.

    Best wishes,
    Thanks for your blog.

    • I’ve been waiting twenty years for the meds to work and KEEP working. So I can prove I’m not a lazy slob, I’m not shiftless, I am courageous and strong and vibrant and…
      Yeah, not feeling it yet. Thankfully Tylenol kicks in faster than psych meds or people would be shooting themselves to be rid of a headache.
      Thanks for the well wishes, they’re needed.

  3. Apathy, table for 2. Right this way.
    I bet if you go to Rebel Circus you can find anything ghoulish you want. If you want I’ll make you muumuus.

    • Can you sew up an Elsa costume for my kid with gloves? Geesh, I was looking at prices and for her size, it’s like forty dollars.
      Really should have paid attention to the sewing semester in home ec…

      • Sure why not. I just hope she doesn’t throw a screaming Mimi because it’s not like the picture. Costumes are ridiculously priced.
        At least you didn’t have to do the egg project…idk how mine survived

  4. As ever the positive, cheery and angelic singing of joy, I might go rejoice in all that fluffy stuff…. Yer, back to normal!
    Disconnected, great at reducing stress, until you HAVE to do something and its all hurried and crap, which with a severe lacking of working motivation never helps
    On the other plus side I haven’t written anything about sucicide in a few days, that’s a good thing I hear! but as ever I know the weeks are decending into low numbers until… Christmas… A dirty word in my book as I will discover a new level of stress and depression

    But for now I’ll just avoid sucicidal writings and attempt to resolve lingering crap, make sure I have plenty of time to kill myself in December!!!

  5. I’m with you with the immune system. My kids are all wussies and I don’t know where they got it from because it wasn’t me. Can’t blame that on me. I am losing my stability and my suicidal thoughts are taking over. Not having a great day, not even slight good day. Fucking stayed in bed all day and my terrible life story was on replay all day.

    • I still say it’s the season change messing with us all. It upsets out rhythms or something. Now you know why I don’t cling to the positive or even seek happiness. Contentment is the thing I relish most, if I can reach that…Even for a few months…I’m golden.

      Hope you feel better soon and if not…Well, you’re in the same boat with the rest of us, we can take turns rowing.

      On Sun, Sep 13, 2015 at 7:30 PM, Take a Ride on My Mood Swing wrote:


  6. You mean there’s fashion beyond slob wear? Really?!?

    I call bullshit on the entire shower a day craze. New research is showing it’s not a good idea. In fact, unless you’re working in a messy environment, how much crap do you spray on yourself to need a fucking shower every fucking day? Gross! Ugh! Toss that one aside.

    Kids building up immunity: yes. Gotta do it. It’s tricky; right now you’re facing a range of superbugs and viruses that we didn’t face growing up. But I don’t think sending your entire household through the decontamination rinse does any good. Besides, that’s just adding to the superbug problem.

    Size? Puh-leeze. Modern day fad for that emaciated look is only recent. Women carrying extra weight have CLASSIC beauty. Go out and tell them that. Better yet, watch a Drop Dead Diva episode. She makes carrying extra weight look effortless.

    Stompburgers on all the bullshit pulling you down, other than your poor aching heart. My thoughts are with you.

    • I prefer to view myself as having a Boticelli-esque figure, back when a natural well fed unairbrushed body was painted and celebrated as art.
      And I like Drop Dead Diva, great show.
      Frankly a large percentage of women aren’t ever gonna be considered beautiful simply because anything over size eight is considered plus size. That is some fucked up shit that makes me ashamed to be of the human race. My kid’s already bigger than most supermodels.

      • I know. I’m 49 and I’ve lived my life as a size 12 or larger, usually larger. Heard it all, including the deadly ‘you’d be really pretty if you just lost 30 pounds’.

        Okay, I think all us plus sized ladies need to get some great portraits painted. Find that new Boticelli to paint all of us. In 100 years when the world is starving from food shortages, we’ll all be worshipped as goddesses. The titles can be things like ‘She Had Problems Getting A Date’ or ‘The World Made Her Feel Bad’ or even ‘We Told Her She Was Fat’. I’d like that. I’d even pose in the nude for it. Know anyone?

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