Wednesday and Thursday I was in such pms agony with cramps that went straight through to my spine..I laid in bed watching tv shows both days, going out only to deliver and fetch the spawn from school. Having had a blue and a purple already for talking in school, she had black on Wednesday, which is one step from detention. Yet no note from the teacher, no approach when she saw me at pick up. Seriously, if my kid is misbehaving to this point, shouldn’t she want to talk to me? Of course, my mood was vile and one of the other teachers kind of chastised me for being impatient with my good (her habit of interrupting people just irks me, cos yeah, she’s a kid, but kids who don’t get taught better become adults who constantly interrupt, like my dad, grrr.) and first it made me furious, then teary.

Nope, wait til the tempest passes before I broach all that.

By Friday I was accursed but no time to further lull in bed. Bills had to be paid.That day about killed me as I was forced to be uber functional for super long in the dish. A list of what I did that day:

Stop one, gas in the car. Stop two, smoke shop cos my lighter conked out on me. Third, drop off spawn. Four, ATM for cash. Five, drive three miles to pay internet bill. Six, a stop for cat food as the cats were out. Six, home to feed the monsters. Seven, pay rent. Eight, another store for cat litter. Nine- to the shop. (I forgot the trip to Walfuckingmart because I needed a shower mat that wasn’t so slick it was basically trying to kill us.) Ten- pick up drinks at Jiffistop, then lunch at Arby’s. Eleven- go to office of Liheap to get an appointment for winter power assistance as their phone had been busy for two days. Twelve- pick Spook up early for doctor appt about the cough. Thirteen- trip to Dollar Tree. Fourteen- pay rent. Fifteen, get nose pieces replaced on Spook’s glasses. Fifteen, gas station for a drink. Sixteen, pharmacy for my meds. (Oh, and a trip to mom’s to repay her the gas money I borrowed the week before, geesh.) Oh and a yard sale cos I was told they’d have cheap clothes for Spook but apparently my stepmonster and i have different ideas of cheap.

Yeah…Maybe that is normal for muggles but for me…That’s enough activity for a month. By the time I got home, the dish had thoroughly drained me and I was freaking out.

The day was further stressful because R asked me to the shop to kind of return for him fixing the faucet…And he got all pissy cos his stepdad came in, wanting  me to show him how to do certain things on the computer. (He gave me ten bucks, so I am not complaining.) Oh, THEN in came the master’s degree appointed helper girl and…I can’t understand a word she says. Not a word. Nasal, slurred tone hindered by so many piercings. And um, she’s goth as fuck, which is kind of why I get irked when people assume me wearing black makes me goth. Um…No. But even I in all my rebellious glory would not show up for a “job reference” dressed quite that…goth. I tend to leave my spikes and concert war paint at home for local jaunts.

R informed my I was being judgmental. Um..Well, gee, it’s all I’ve ever known, guess it makes sense I’d turn it back on someone. Seriously, though…You’re hard pressed for cash and need a reference to get a “real” job…I’d tone it down a bit. I’m not one for dress codes and I do looove to rebel but assimilation, sucky as it is,is sometimes a necessary evil. I suppose though some of my get up (from, ya know, the rare times of not being too depressed to get out of the slobwear I slept in) might have been deemed inappropriate. Not much I can do about all my pants having holes in them. A year is about what you get out of ten dollar Wal-Mart leggings. It’s not that I want to look like a baglady. I just have no money to get pants without holes in them, sorry. It’s crazy, cos I have shirts coming out my nostrils. I have an awesome t-shirt collection, a lot of them in perfect shape. But pants…Since Fashion Bug closed and I had to start buying Walmart shit (same price yet quality is very different)…I can’t seem to stockpile any pants. And I am very picky, I will only wear black leggings. Hate jeans and slacks, hate hate hate.

Hmm…I am judgmental cos I kinda do my own thing without regard to social conformity. Well, when R starts paying me I’ll start giving a fuck. He showed up the other day wearing jeans that had one butt cheek poking through the hole in them and he could buy new clothes so I guess my poverty hole laden wardrobe isn’t a sin. I make do with what I’ve got.

Once done with the dish Friday, I pretty much went to Zulu land. Just vegetated in front of my shows, but then, I remember none of them, my brain was too exhausted to truly focus and get into it. All I have to say is, the brain better get on board this week. It’s the start of The Flash,Arrow, American Horror Story, Supernatural, et al…Do NOT fuck this up for me, scumbag brain, or I will stab you with a spork.

Yesterday Spook and I hit some yard sales. Only cos R’s stepdad gave me that ten, which didn’t come out of my tight budget, so I didn’t feel so shitty spending it.And it was worthwhile, I found a cheap cat condo which I have wanted for years. One sale had stuff for fifty cents, that had never even been removed from the package. Though I had to come back home after the first one. I’d gotten all excited that morning cos it’s boot season, I can wear boots without my legs sweltering…Except… this.

bye bye bootsOkay, so I’ve had them sixteen months and they only cost sixteen bucks, seems cheap, right? Unless you don’t have it, and with book fair and school pix, I don’t have it. I have two other pairs of boots I love, but oh, wait…This is happening to one pair and Shoe goo ain’t fixing it, and the other pair has a zipper out and the local shoe repair place doesn’t do zippers. SEE. This will teach me too look forward to anything, even something as inane as boot season.

When Spook went to mom’s yesterday, I came home and basically laid in bed. I’ve been in mega pain, like labor pains, for four days. Today is better but but last night, I went to sleep cos the Tylenol wasn’t making a dent. Though I woke at ten til seven this morning, so I don’t have good vibes about this gloomy cool day. And my kid decides to remind me why by acting out cos she lost her green crayon and I won’t give her my new ones. Tough.

The seasonal is kicking up. Monday was eight degrees, shorts and tank top weather. Friday morning people were wearing gloves. No real segue, just an abrupt drop into cold. Fuck. And one week it’s getting dark at seven thirty, the next it’s 6:45…All this change sucks. And the doctor did get back to me, prescribed ten mg Prozac (he called me himself, which is a rarity, they usually have the minions do it). I’ve only been on the prozy two days now, but it can’t make things worse. I am doing all this light therapy, surrounding myself with all the happy novelty lava and glitter lamps that once made  me so happy…Trying to battle this SAD but it boils down to being cold all the time. And I discovered, when Pantera managed to somehow get trapped inside, that my ductwork is all fucked up and I cansee  dirt under the trailer which means…the ducts are not attached. Jebus, I have asked the maintenance people to fix it every fall for seven years now and they’re too lazy to get under there, they just tighten the siding up. I get three hundred dollar heating bills and still freeze to death. Idgets.

Woo hoo, I’ve been in a sitting position for ninety minutes now, which is more than I managed for four days. Oompa Loompas must be preparing to go on a vaycay. (Such a stupid term.)

In another act of suckage…I got the wrong prepaid card for my stupid phone, er smart phone, and they won’t make good on it. So service expires tomorrow and I am out twenty five bucks I did not have to spare. FUCK. I don’t think I will be dealing with Net10 anymore, I’m going back to Tracfone. Plans may be a little pricier in the long haul but service is better. And I own the phone (ten dollar smartphones are cool) so I can probably transfer. At another time. Whatever. Just be nice if something would go right.

I hate that damned thing as a phone but I like being able to check email easily. I am a conundrum.

No plans for today. I think I did enough dish time in the last two days. If I go out today, it will be by choice, not necessity.

And I guess that concludes today’s rant. Oh, no…One last thing. IF YOU TAG YOUR BLOG, AND ITS HEADER, AS BEING ABOUT BIPOLAR…MAKE IT ABOUT FUCKING BIPOLAR!!!! I despise blogs that send out multiple posts a day and NONE of them are about what I signed up to read about. That’s why I made separate topic specific blogs. Just…Duude…If you sign up for a food blog that spends all its time talking about lumber and home repair, wouldn’t you be a bit irked?

Must just be me.




10 Responses to “Accursed”

  1. Sorry Morgue. I have 2 blogs now, that is enough. I do post about Bipolar just not every post. ❤

  2. La Sabrosona Says:

    Sucks that you get so much menstrual cramping. I used to get that shit in my teens and I’d be dying. the first day was always the worst. Re: kids and misbehaving at school, I get really annoyed that the teachers are so weird about it and very pc. I told my youngest son’s teacher last year that I don’t want him to be labelled as the trouble kid and that I’d like them to report the good days as well as the bad days and I think I scared her off. She didn’t really report the bad days unless it was kinda unbearable and unmanageable.
    Re: the tagging, I really try not to tag inappropriately. My header says Motherhood, Mental Illness & Metamorphosis so I try to keep within that range, but sometimes I stretch it a bit because I’m rebellious that way. I really like the creative stuff, like photography and haikus. I’ve been thinking of adding just a “Creativity section” that would house all that and then the tags would be clearer.
    Thanks for the reminder though and sorry if I annoyed you.

    • Ya know, I feel kind of jerkish now because that little rant about tagging wasn’t aimed at you or Tessa, yet you felt that it was. I’d just found a couple of new blog posts I’d liked, so I subscribed…And then it’s like a week of banal talk about Facebook, Tweets, fashion, friend drama…Kind of a let down when they managed to write a decent post about bipolar, ya know? Makes me wonder at times if the younger “bipolars” aren’t simply claiming it like some trendy label to tag with and get more followers. Because if you can be worried about socializing and fashion that much…You’re probably not pure bipolar since it eats all the joy at random intervals.

      Sorry you guys took offense.

      On Sun, Oct 4, 2015 at 11:23 AM, Take a Ride on My Mood Swing wrote:


      • You are forgiven. I am thin-skinned and I thought you meant me. ❤

      • La Sabrosona Says:

        No worries lady, I know I’d like to change things on my blog, and I’m very insecure about stuff sometimes, but I didn’t take offence, just looked at it objectively and thought I’m likely guilty of that sometimes.
        I think you and everyone else has a right to like or not like certain blog posts. I’d encourage someone to just check me out once a week if a daily dose is too much, lol. I hear what you’re saying about bipolar being trendy and that I agree is very fucking annoying when people jump on that bandwagon.
        My opinion is this though: I think mental illness looks different based on people’s life experience and their “markers”, like culture, language, gender, age, interests. It’s like Anthropology in a way. Sometimes the only thing we have in common is zee bipolar and otherwise we’d NEVER be friends or pay attention to each other irl.
        And another good point (I think it’s pretty good, hehe) is that we have different awareness levels in terms of what’s shit in our lives and what we want to reveal. Sometimes writing is so subconscious and we just need to get shit out and we don’t even know what that will be, it’s just that random. And we process things differently too. Sometimes it’s about control. One might post about frivolous things because they can’t deal with the level of hurt and pain they are experiencing, or shame.
        I know I’ve been very annoying and self-absorbed especially in my younger years. It might be the age gap? Different life circumstances? I dunno, but don’t feel bad for how you feel. If it annoys you then so be it. Also, people who live at home and have everything done for them have a completely different focus than let’s say you and I that are raising kids and have certain responsibilities.
        It is what it is amiga 🙂 Be well.

  3. Ugh! I sure as hell hope that when you went out into the dish you had IV alcohol onboard!! If need it! (Even if you & I were doing the running together & goofing off it’d be fun,,,) but,,,DAMNED!!
    Spook possibly getting detention that young without her teacher intervening by discussing with you?! Assholery! If Jayden’s (& classmates for that matter) are acting up, she addresses it right away (happened couple times in beginning of school year) No money = no new clothes, but I get some, my one sister is a thrift story clothesaholic,,, hence some awesome occasional donations my way :). I love my phone & service Virgin Mobile, $35/mo ~ unlimited minutes/text/data && I do everything on my phone cuz I don’t have a computer/laptop/tablet,,, Hopping on Camelraffe, grabbing cigs, bottle or two & coming to getcha, gotta run away,,,,

    • *store not story (drunk phone was being sober, but musta been on a binge overnight. Stoopid trendy wannabe ‘bipolars’ can sure as fuck can have & deal with mine/yours/& ours for shot’s sake!

  4. Supernatural!!!!! I can’t wait for that shit to start either! I’m such an addict. And damn it I miss Bobby idget!

  5. Sorry I was about to comment last night when my laptop decided to break itself with a “critical system error” whatever that was.
    Argh I get more annoyed with the ones who are all like “I’m bipolar, so like yesterday I was sooo manic and today I’m all depressed and stuff. But I go to work and claim to do a high-level job that I don’t actually do and claim that this has all affected me when it really hasn’t I’m just an attention seeking narcissist. And look at my new nails and I wrote this poem and even though it’s really shit I’m going to get 1000 likes because you all feel sorry for me. As you should. Because I’m bipolar and I had a sad life because when I was seven I scraped my knee in the playground and that’s why I am bipolar.” (some details changed on the off chance this person stops commenting on my blog with shit like “you CAN overcome bipolar just try harder like I do” and starts actually reading other people’s comments or blogs: I don’t think you’ve been cursed with her as a reader yet though).
    That was way bitchy. And it wasn’t aimed at anyone who reads your blog, or you. Just someone who’s really pissing me off and I don’t want to hear from in my reader. Not as bad as the one who started liking/commenting on my blog whose blog was basically glorifying eating disorders in a big way in a “oh hee hee I threw all my food away I’m so bulimic and then I ate it out the bin so I had to take laxatives aren’t I a riot hee hee” and gets 1000 likes and comments from likeminded idiots egging her on with her pro-eating-disorder blog.
    …Wow and I’m still bitching.
    Also your day sounded incredibly busy. I am not surprised you are wiped after doing all that stuff. Hope you feel less icky soon.

  6. Ach, Morgue, sorry to hear you’re in menstrual hell. That just makes everything worse. I, too, am out looking for cheap clothes bargains. It’s hard to find a decent wardrobe on a €30 budget but hey! Like you, I do what I can with what I’ve got. I feel your boot pain. Goddess, I love boots; they are uber cool and stylin’. And phones? Honey, don’t even get me started. I hate my dumb phone. Pain in my balls to operate (and that’s saying something).

    As for the wannabes…I can’t fathom someone wanting to be this way. Obviously you’re not bipolar if you feel that way, ’cause if you were living in the middle of the mush you’d never ever say that. La Sabrosona’s dead right on saying that sometimes people post superficial crap because they can’t get to the real issue. But come on. The only time I address fashion is to acknowledge that I have none. I don’t have much friend drama ’cause I don’t have friends – the condition and life in general has seen to that. And yet, if you or I were to call these people on their shit, we’d be the bad guys for not believing them. Whatever. Go and write your paid for blog. You got the money to throw around and add fancy fonts and shit? Fuck. Sorry for my disbelief when I read you crying about how you don’t have more followers. Really? And you’re STILL trying to claim you’re bipolar? Hmmm…

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