Halloweirdness FML

Ten months a year I wait for Halloween. Every year almost, by the time it gets here…I am in the downward spiral of seasonal depression. This year is no different and it is not just bumming me out but pissing me off.

I used to daydream of one day having a child and how fun it would be to take them trick or treating.

Now…It’s cold, gray, and raining and my kid is being a royal brat and my body aches from dish week and…I don’t give a fuck that it’s Halloween. I don’t want to take her Trick or Treating. I can barely be arsed to put on real clothes, let alone dress up. My joy has been stolen once again by that bastard depression and IT PISSES ME THE FUCK OFF.

She is pulling the Uzi rapid fire routine this morning. Ninety minutes awake, ninety minutes of constant chatter, her yelling at me, defying me, manipulating me…My dad has already called announcing their intention to visit. With it raining they will probably want to come inside and I cannot allow my biohazard four shame to be seen and judged. (Doesn’t bother me so much with R, he barely notices if my hair is on fire, let alone if my house is crawling with hybrid spidercats.) But my judgmental father and my stepmother who constantly bitches that my wax melt things aggravate her allergies so she doesn’t want to come inside…

Fuck off. Seriously. I don’t want my bubble invaded by their negativity and judgment. By anyone really. This is my sanctuary, scuzzy as it may be. No McMuggles!

So far, I’ve done fuck all but get out of bed, come to the living room rather than cryptify, and feed the cats. I can’t even be bothered to make fresh iced tea, I am choking down the stale stuff from yesterday. Most of me wishes I were still in bed with that uber comfy uber warm blankie I shall call Vanilla for it is white like vanilla ice cream. Vanilla and I are engaged. I may marry that damned blanket.  Never in my life have I owned anything so posh. Loooove at first snuggle.

Alas, I must be awake so the spawn doesn’t impale cats on forks or set the place on fire rubbing two sticks together.

I keep trying to pep talk myself into being “up”. What’s so bad about my life, really? What do I have to be depressed about? Which is the ultimate pisser of depression. It doesn’t matter if you just won the lottery, met the love of your life, or put an end of war. It just is. Dragging you down without reason. Blocking out all rays of light. Smothering you with its weight, making breathing seem exhausting. I want to shake it off. Desperately. Yet…it has embedded into my bone marrow once again. I see the shrink Monday and I am scared to even mention that I’m not all cured. Cripes, two anti depressants, a mood stabilizer, Focalin, Xanax, Restoril…I should be higher than a fucking kite. Yet that sad undertow remains, more prevalent on some days than others but I feel it just the same.

I guess I will just address the immense anxiety. I want to drop to the floor sobbing and beg for Valium. Never had it. Maybe it’s shit. But the restoril isn’t relaxing me enough at night to sleep solidly, I need something. Just not hypnotics, those are not for me. Fuck, I don’t know, I’m a bloody trainwreck. There is this part of me so sick of being “too solid” as far as the manic episodes go, I want to go off the Lamictal. Let the moods swing if it means I might reach an up patch. I know I can’t, it would be irresponsible as a parent because nothing good comes out of manic behavior…I still fantasize about even a few weeks of excess energy, social skills, and just not feeling….like this.

I think I woke every hour on the hour last night. Just like the night before. And weirdly, my kid stayed down both nights and in her own bed. So why, considering the xanax/restoril bedtime routine, can’t I sleep through? It’s been a year of this shit, and it’s exhausting. It’s not a mystery why I am tense, impatient, and grumpy. I never truly get to recharge. Hell, I’d settle for staying down four solid hours rather than spend ten hours in bed, only sleeping in seventy minute increments. And this terror/jolt thing every time I start to drift off…I haven’t had that problem since I was a child.

My brain has gone off the reservation. It’s throwing me curveballs, it’s pitching same old, same old, it’s firing rocket launchers at my nerve endings.

Robbing me of the mind frame to truly enjoy my one day of the year is the ultimate cruelty.

I am gonna go back to watching this show I just found called “Life”. Rarely does a show suck me in after one episode but this one did. Maybe if I just chill and stop putting so much pressure on myself, I will revive, reanimate, something positive. Unlikely with the Uzi fire still coming at me.

Sorry for the lack of humor in this post. I  usually try to balance out the gloom with some good snarks but…I just don’t have any right now. Depression has proven to be Snarkasma’s Kryptonite.

5 Responses to “Halloweirdness FML”

  1. tpcsufian Says:

    I actually wrote a post recently called #FML #KMN. I just vented about all the shit in this world. I unleashed my negative side. It felt wonderful to let it out. I hope you felt great venting too. 🙂

  2. I have the same waking problem you do. I am in the process of weaning off Lamictal…I would like my memories back, thank you very much. Hopefully this will help.

    I wish for you some peace so you can get out and enjoy some trick or treating later

  3. Hugs for such a shitty day on a day that is supposed to be Morgue-splendorous. I agree, let the “Whys” of depression evaporate: it’s enough trying to survive it, and hopefully emerge from it. It’s like asking how you and this rock that is pinioning you chanced to meet in such a massively awful way. Causality takes a back seat to pragmatic logistics; which you are ace at; which is proved every day you stay alive. In the deeps of depression, that is victory enough, to hell with the McMuggles and their Death Star anti-empathy rays. And really, it couldn’t get any more gray and rainy and gloomy out here in fair Illinois. Gotta be a lot of bummed out kids around, wondering why their parents are so powerless they can’t even control the weather. I told my own parents they are bossing the doorbell candy duty. I shall be retired in a red velvet smoking jacket having my own Halloween fright-fest reading about earthquakes, tsunamis, the Cascadia subduction zone, and the cataclysm creeping on the Pacific Northwest (and my poor imaginary characters).

    • Spook is literally too adorable in her Elsa costume to be believed. For serious realz.

      • She said to tell you thanks. She also told my mom and sister tonight I have a boyfriend named Andrew because you’ve been so kind to me on the blog (she knows everyone’s picture cos, as I’ve said, she is attached to my elbow.)
        I think in a couple of days, she will decide Sass and I are a couple.
        In all fairness though, Diane once sent my a pic of her grandson and Spook declared, “He’s my new boyfriend!”
        My kid has um…issues. Cannot imagine where she got them, though.

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