Kill It With Fire!

Kill what with fire? A spider? Cockroach? Person? Frankenstein?

Nope, just my psychotic post hormonal six-days-into-a-new-med brain that has elected my first kid free night in two months as the time to turn furious and hostile with some self pity and hopelessness tossed in. Demonic despair cocktail, anyone?

Much like the epic mood crashes into the dark place where the only real solution is the brain reboot of sleep…This hostile place is every bit as bad. I am trying to fight it. Except it’s kicking my ass, screaming at me, reminding me how utterly insignificant I am. I mean, shit, look how my so called “friend” treats me. No one who has any respect for you would be so callous and apathetic…Which means I’m an afterthought obviously deemed worthy of being totally discounted when not of use or because the interesting people are all busy at that time.

But, wait! There’s more!

Illogical and fueled with stress, hormonal imbalance, the 10mg Prozac, whatever…But a few minutes ago I flushed hot from the sheer fury of how R treats me. My skin literally felt ready to boil. And I kept thinking, “I am not being histrionic because I have been there for him through all his petty shit and yet if I feel like leaving my kid at mom’s and driving my car into a brick wall at eighty miles per hour…I have no one to turn to. He’s too busy, uninterested in what he sees as moodiness and self pity…”

Not sure how that’s not gonna be salt poured into a wound.

I don’t even know what really sparked it all. I have way better things to worry about but after the school conference and coming home to breathe…Inertia set in. Just watching me new shows. While the house continues to get scummier, that laundry ain’t folding itself, and omg, I can’t even be bothered to feed myself cos everything makes me gag…

Scumbag brain has decided this is the perfect time to go OCD thinking about this situation with R. And to an extent, I know damn well some of it is me. I burn out on people after awhile, it’s like I need a vacation from their quirks, from putting on the mask so my quirks don’t disturb them, it’s fracking exhausting. Since people don’t give you mental health “I wanna stab your eyes out with a bbq fork, so I’m gonna take a couple weeks off and not be around you” break…I usually have to burn bridges because, well, that’s how I roll when I am forced by the dish dwellers to bottle all my feelings, aka what they call neuroses, up. It’s gonna blow eventually, especially when my delicate fifty fifty balance is not being met. I cannot abide being expected to be at one’s beck and call yet shunned like I don’t exist when they are too busy for my call.

KILL THIS FUCKING BRAIN A FLAMETHROWER, IT IS RUINING MY NIGHT OF MOMMY-FREENESS!

Of course, the professionals would say I am allowing the thoughts to ruin my night. Hmm…If I could make it stop, I wouldn’t shovel pills and want flamethrowers aimed at my head, now would I?

Battling these abrupt inexplicable shifts into OCD thoughts has proven to be the bane of my existence. It taints, colors, causes me to become overwhelmed so when I do let my emotions out, they’re usually at fever pitch which doesn’t lend much credence to my complaint…And “snap out of it” as a mantra…Not effective. This mental space is a lot like looking at your arm in flames and saying, “These flames are hot.” And of course, some brilliant person will say, put them out, it won’t be so hot, all the while pouring more gasoline on you.

From my many, many years of therapy, I know the counselor’s approach to this. “What’s REALLY making you so upset? Are you misdirecting your anger at R when it might be about something else?”

***Returns an hour later,covered in dirt, and sits the shovel down.****

I went digging for the truth on that one and…Yeah, R’s always been pretty fucking thoughtless and half assed rude to me. I may be irked with him for allowing this current situation to come about but what’s really pissing me off is…

Goth Girl, yesterday, while prattling on about wanting to work for R full time, said she needed the money to get her new iphone off layaway.

Yeah. That’s definitely something one will not survive without, how could I be so stupid not to see how crucial owning the latest iphone is? Vapid shit like that is a major trigger and I shouldn’t be so judgey but motherfuckers, if you buy your food with food stamps but you can afford an iphone…YOU DESERVE TO BE JUDGED.

I was given this sob story by R about how bad off this girl is financially and that’s why he’s throwing her some scraps. Um, no. She has no kids, shares expenses with a boyfriend, owns clothes without holes in them, and her major priority is getting an iphone six or whatever. When I am  struggling so hard, doing without so much, pawning dvds just so I can buy my kid a book from the school book fair…

FUCK YOU AND YOUR IPHONE, SERIOUSLY!

And it’s not just her, half the people in my trailer park get disability and food stamps yet they all have newer cars, iphones, ipads, brand clothes…I am trying to do the right thing here and instead of making headway, I am just…I’m getting that end of the movie Heathers feeling, where I wanna blow it all up, light a smoke, and walk the fuck away. Maybe in an hour I won’t feel so furious. Right now…I am just fucking pissed and livid.

Oh, and to top it all off yesterday, she wasn’t there a half hour before her boyfriend popped in and the visited for a half hour. High school bullshit in people almost thirty makes me wanna throw up.

Okay, I’m a bitter judgey vindictive bitch.

But seriously, I’ve spent the last seven years of my life trying to atone for all my mistakes made during manic episodes or depressions, trying to mend bridges I burned, trying to be better, to be a  better version of myself. I am making sacrifices, learning to make do with what I have, do without what is necessary to survive…I am trying so damned hard and yet daily I get to see those who don’t make an effort and hear about how hard it is for them.

Feeling like a second class citizen here. Thank you, scumbag brain, for the low self esteem. It’s a fabulous quality to have. NOT.

Currently I am a breath away from telling him to fuck off and die. I’ve done it before but it didn’t touch him, it just hurt his wife, whom I like. So that doesn’t really seem feasible since I at least value her friendship. Maybe I should just resign as his friend and tell him to train his newest flying monkey. Of course, he’d never be so shitty to her because she’d go tell his master’s degree daughter and he’s scared of her.

I should take a Xanax. I just waited almost two months for this break and so much shit has gone down and I need this time to myself, I wanna write so desperately…But the desire and inspiration are in bondage from all the ugly reality I’ve had to contend with. Now my brain has gone helter fucking skelter and I can not do a thing but ride it out and LIFE IS LIKE SHAMPOO,LATHER,RINSE,REPEAT.

I know all my ranting has run off a lot of people who used to read regularly because I truly am lather, rinse,repeat in my writing here. Because ya know, life is mundane and banal and irritating enough for those without a wonky brain, ten times more so for the wonky brained…So while I wish I cared about running people off, I really don’t.

Because if you’re the kind of person I’d want as a friend…You’d never be run off by my honesty no matter how blunt or redundant. Friends stick around through thick and thin.

Maybe it’s that personal belief that keeps me from totally writing R off.

Or in my sleep I became a masochist.

For this moment…I really do wish someone would kill my brain with fire. Roast some marshmallows, make me useful for a change.

(Blah blah, low self esteem, bad mood, brain bad bad bad bad….)

That is all. Carry on.

 

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17 Responses to “Kill It With Fire!”

  1. OCD thinking is a pretty perfect way to nail our compulsion to obsessively ruminate. I’m always here and listening and pulling for you. Bipolar IS rinse, lather, and repeat. What can I say? You’re a goddamn whipsmart momma bear warrior and maybe God — can you hear me God? — will stick a barbed wire dildo up R’s ass and it will electrocute his brain and transmogrify him into a decent, reliable, trustworthy, generous guy to you. Who shits skittles and farts goth-girl-vaporizing rainbows. (Hey, don’t laugh, I’m trying to learn the lingo in these parts:)

    • Well, you DID make me laugh, but it’s a good thing, given scumbag brain’s current space. I appreciate it. And after watching the premiere of American Horror Story:Hotel, which involved sexual assault with a silvery gold metal corkscrew thingamabob…Thinking Ms. Z was onto something with the barb wire idea.

      There really is a market for everything. (Shudder)

      On Thu, Oct 8, 2015 at 8:29 PM, Take a Ride on My Mood Swing wrote:

      >

    • We’ll work on your lingo

  2. Love you Morgue and I love your posts. ❤

    • Love you back <3….And were you not so far away, I'd take that needy cat off your hands 'cos mine are all so apathetic, I am feeling unloved 😦 (Yes, I read the post, but didn't comment cos it wanted me to log in all over again and I went blank on my password, sorry.)

      On Thu, Oct 8, 2015 at 8:41 PM, Take a Ride on My Mood Swing wrote:

      >

      • Miss needy is sleeping (stretched out across my bed) at the moment though any moment she should wake up and start her crying though she does have some treats left. I would give her to you. She is too much for me to handle. ❤

  3. I’m still here because we ride the same Bipolar Coaster with a lot of anxiety corkscrew twists. Gah. You know, I love burnt marshmallow jelly bellies-and popcorn and cinnamon ones. Yeah yeah, Sass is weirder now based on her candy selection. You know they have these new FLAT marshmallows JUST FOR SMORES?! Crack open that skull-I need some SMORES a la Morgue!
    And poor Andrew needs a lesson in Femme speak 😉

  4. You are NOT a second class citizen, Morgue. I say screw ’em with a barbed wire dildo that’s been dipped in acid. Make sure to REALLY scrub ’em out well.

    Everybody’s a crazy mother fucker. Some just don’t admit it.

  5. Motherfucking donkey sucking goth bitch. Let’s just kill her – she’s pissing me off and we’re not even on the same continent.

  6. I hope you really don’t worry about people who may not read anymore. You’re not doing this to be liked and gather friends. You are doing this to help empty your brain. Anyone who doesn’t like that can suck it.

    • I wouldn’t say I worry about it, I just take note of things. I have this issue with people who click “follow” , comment once, so I reciprocate, and then they drop me. It just proves all my misanthropy correct, can’t help but notice. Hasn’t stopped my spewage a bit;)

      On Mon, Oct 12, 2015 at 1:04 PM, Take a Ride on My Mood Swing wrote:

      >

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