The Breeding Ground For Life Halting Anxiety

*Disclaimer*

***This post is NOT about blaming anyone else for my neuroses, do not take it as such. I own that my issues pre date anyone or anything socially related. Still…the anxiety that is bred on that ground, is part of my mental chaos thus must be vented.***

So, R has beckoned for tomorrow. I agreed. Technically, I think I blackmailed him. He asked if I’d come in and I said, “I can do that and you can fix my ductwork or I can stay home waiting for maintenance.” He agreed, though without any enthusiasm. Just do my bidding, bitch, you owe me for putting up with  you, considering you’re more of a pain in the ass than a colonoscopy.  I shall go and tend to his whims. I still need to get Fratian (french hatian) guy on the phone about his netbook. I tried talking to him Friday but there was a screaming kid in the background on his side and of course, he knows not one word of english, and I know no french (I don’t go to France, so I don’t see why I should know it.) He said he would call back (least that’s what I think was said) but never did. Fucktwonk. I want that thirty bucks worth of credit card usage I’m due for all those hours on that damn Window 8 nightmare. (Yes,I do the work, R gives me his credit card to buy that amount of what I need. It ain’t perfect, but it will do. For now. Until the syphili-spork thing takes off.)

Now, knowing I am expected first thing in the morning to be at the whims of this man for probably hours (his idea of “for a bit” varies from mine significantly) has my stomach knotting up and it’s like, whereas pre call, I only had the weight of a sheep on my mind, it now feels like a herd of elephant are sitting there.

Expectation and schedule are my breeding ground for anxiety. Because it is so difficult to predict your mind state when you agree to do something, you have to spend every moment walking a tightrope, in hopes that one tiny thing doesn’t trigger an entire collapse of your precarious balance. I mean, I’m up on this tightrope with no net, and I am balancing a plate with ten glasses stacked on it, all of them filled with super ebola so I can’t spill a drop or I will die and….

Breathe….

Yep, I am even resentful when I tell myself to do it, it’s not just when others do say that shit.

Of course, I am breathing, otherwise I’d be fucking dead. Oh, yes, I know, I am supposed to take those deep cleansing new agey “everything will be hunky dory” breaths that will gloriously control my anxiety and cure it while regurgitating bright yellow sunflowers over my head.

Uh, no, doesn’t work that way for me. I must have peed in the wrong person’s Cheerios.

I am so sick of this shit. Expectation, schedules, plans…No matter how much breathing, distraction, sunshine spewing up my own skirt I do…It’s that damned herd of elephant on my mind and they’re starting to stampede. It’s constant with my kid’s school schedule and I don’t even have to go there. But it’s a looming expectation and only on weekends do I truly get to relax.

Been this way as long as I can remember. Even as a kid, I’d be anxious before a school physical or if I had a school program. As an employee, it was much, much worse. I mean, not sleeping til days off worse,and it lead to a lot of being physically ill because at 2 p.m. Tuesday I’d be manic and superhuman and by 10 am Wednesday, I’d be as useless as trying to store liquid in a  spaghetti strainer. Mood stabilizers made it better, but not by much. Planning around this shit IS anxiety inducing, and with just cause. People don’t forgive you if you need a mental health day like they would if you came down overnight with the flu.

So whatever serenity I was feeling at having gotten my kid and myself suppered and bathed so the rest of the evening was mine to enjoy…it’s gone. Gone baby gone. All because I am expected to perform like a trained seal tomorrow. Wouldn’t be so bad if you knew you were in a safe situation where you weren’t expected to spew sunshine and not be affected by your personal shit. Going to a place where mental illness is viewed as little more than fodder for humor at best, and as an excuse for being useless at worst, is stressful.

I keep trying to tell myself, get it done Monday, you can veg out, kid and R free, Tuesday. Might even get a pack of smokes out of it.

Scumbag brain isn’t buying it. Nope. The red lights are flashing, the alarms are sounding, and I am on crimson alert. Red alert is not strong enough a term. Crimson alert. Because while waiting to get my obligation over with, I can’t relax or take a deep breath. Must be vigilant, must be prepared, must….

I don’t know, maybe I’ve fooled myself into thinking hypovigilance gives me some modicum of control over things. In which case, I should slap myself with a rotting fish while screaming DUMBASS.

Again, this is not on R. This is all me, all my dysfunction. I own it.

But to be honest, I wouldn’t mind parting with it in the least. I’d pay someone to take it off my hands.

As long as it gets my duct work fixed properly so we can have heat…I just gotta remind myself, “It’s better than stooping to doing clown fetish porn…”

The more I am around R, the less creeped out I become by clowns.

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21 Responses to “The Breeding Ground For Life Halting Anxiety”

  1. OMG I wondered when clown porn would come up again! Kinda like the dancing dog at the circus, right? Ugh. At least you bartered for the duct work to be fixed. If he doesn’t, gimmie Mrs R’s # and I’ll take care of it. I got your back-anxiety riddled brain and all. Cuz that’s what friends are for-to backstab the fuckers that backstab us, and so on and so forth. Seriously-if it’s not taken care of, I’ll make sure it gets done. No I’m not saying this out of my despair haze, I’m saying it because you and Spook shouldn’t freeze to death because slumlord thousandaire can’t be assed. Oh-LOVE fucktwonk! Add it to our verbiage. And you can always threaten the elephants with taking their ivory and selling it on the black market for smokes and cat food. Maybe then they’ll decrease to antelope size. Meh-worth a try *and I KNOW someone’s gonna take offense to that, and to that I say, FUCKEST THOU!*

    • I would never have known about clown porn had it not been for CSI.
      Furthermore, I would never have known (happily so) about Disney porn if youtube hadn’t deem it as a suggested due to my kid watch Frozen!
      Ermygod, some things cannot be unknown.

      • Neither can My Little Pony…

      • Rule 34, dude, nothing innocent the internet can’t make dirty or disgusting.
        Zoe’s barbwire dildos should sell like hotcakes to people sick enough to have impure thoughts about My Little Pony.

      • It was AWFUL! When Florida was working on my desktop through a program he had complete control…even put a naughty pony as my desktop back ground. I am fucking scarred for life. Thank GOD I got it off before the kids came home…barbed wired dildos and syphili-sporks for all of those with impute thought of My Little Pony, Strawberry Shortcake, Rainbow Brite and Punky Brewster. Yeah-there’s your throw back!

      • Um…I was too old for Shortcake and Rainbow and Ponies….That was my sister’s generation.
        I did love Punky Brewster.
        Though now I’d give her a nose ring, leather, and call her Spunky Spewster.

      • YAS! That’d be a PERFECT show! Spunky Brewster, totals awesomeness

      • And to think-our friendship started over clown porn! BWAHAHAHA that’s looooove 😉

      • Ermygod…I saw something today on theoatmeal.com about differences in how we saw clown in the 50’s versus today…I laughed til I nearly peed my pants.
        Yessss, yummy kindergartners, nom nom nom.

      • EEEEEEK NONONONO! SASS DOES NOT DO CLOWNS!
        I had a friend that tagged me on stupidface last year about creepy clowns showing up in towns. Scared me so bad I fell outta my chair AND peed my pants. DO. NOT. LIKE!

      • I think the bad clown thing started with IT, thank you Stephen King. It wasn’t made any better by last season of American Horror Story with Twisty the murderous clown.
        My mom had a clown cake for me as a child and it didn’t bother me then. Guess those clowns were medicated.

      • It did. Damn you Stephen King! And I watched a few episodes of AHS last year-yeah, nope. I hid whenever the clown made an appearance. I think clowns where beyond medicated then-they were lobotomized. Still-Sass bony do clowns.

  2. I’m just…I’m sad you and Spook are so cold. These Midwestern nights are chilly as fuck. I will be praying Rsole is decent for once and fixes that shit and you can get some warmth. Goddamn that man. Fergus might have to Mexican cartel style chomp off his dick and drop it daintily in his mouth. Really hope that heat gets turned out. Damn.

    • Please do have Fergus do that cartel thing. R just called for a second time to indulge in some Schadenfreude because his ex-wife’s (and babies mama) has a forth kid by a different man..And the girl tried to kill herself this weekend over being bullied on social media.
      And he wanted to celebrate it, saying shit like, “Well, when I had custody of MY girls, they never tried to kill themselves.”
      Poor tween tries to hurt herself and the man is still so full of hate for his ex of 20 years and intent on stroking his own ego…He was celebratory.
      And we’re the ones who are mental!
      Bring on Fergus!

      • En route. I let him get a good sniff of my pug Hero’s balls, so the scent is one him. When you hear a screaming, then gagging, coming from somewhere in town; you know what’s happened. Fergus rules the brazen cars. And rules the shadows of the wood.

      • Sass tells me Fergus is quite handsome. Might wanna keep him away from the pegacorns, they are frisky when they see eye candy.

  3. 😈 I say if R doesn’t come through, Sass should hunt him down, shoot him and skin him. Human hide has great insulation properties, so I’ve been told.

    • He came through, but the minute he found a dead cat under there…He was out. He did, of course, brave the other side, only to determine…So much is wrong with this place, it should be bulldozed because Stephen Hawking couldn’t come up with a way to fix all that is wrong.
      I’m gonna call the landlord, get maintenance here, but…Thus far, it looks like I am screwed without a kiss.
      The worst part is, my family, friends, R-all want to tell me how this place is a lost cause, it’s so ill maintained and in such a shambles structurally but…No one is offering us a place to stay or money to move to something better.
      I am making do with what I have. If anyone wants to donate to my cause-bring it on. Otherwise…I think sporks in the eye are called for. We can’t all have two relatives die and leave us thousands of dollars to invest thus we never run short.
      I am more disturbed by not burying dead cats than I am anything else. They deserve a buries, strays or not, so at some point..I am gonna have to put on my big girl panties and…Ya know. Bury the dead.
      Because 12 dead cats in 10 months isn’t enough, let’s add some more heartbreak.
      Whoever said the deity doesn’t give us more than we can handle…LIED.

  4. For every new age fantasy loving free spirit that no longer ‘believes’ in stress, there’s a pissed off horde of grunts ‘dealing’ with that stress!

  5. brandymuzz Says:

    I completely understand the anxiety about having to go out. I am cancelling more and more because it is making me physically ill and the mental crap. None of this is fun, I would gladly also pay someone to take it too

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