I want my Stab-0-Matic NOW

So, of course, my asshole father waited until 7 last night to call and guilt me into coming all the way over there to see my kid’s church program. Now, before you call me a selfish awful mom, keep in mind it’s a 24 mile round trip to their burg. I drive an 8 cylinder, which means about 3 gallons of gas will be used. I am also battling that sticky choke and the car dying in the cold. I love my kid, but damn, I have to think about these things. If I use the gas for this, my kid and I will be home bound the rest of the month. It’s not as cut and dry as he makes it. I won’t even attempt to bring my fear of crowds and lack of faith in organized religion into it. I mean, my kid didn’t ask me to come, so obviously this is a ploy on his part. He could have offered to put gas in the car. Nooo, that would be an act of not being a dickbag.

Damn it all to hell.

Last night I damn near gave myself an ulcer fretting about it, about my emotional state, about the fact all I’ve done in 36 hours of kid free zone is take a shower…Meanwhile biohazard five lurks and I’ve done zilch toward digging out the small tree to put up for my kid. It got to the point where cyclone brain had me doing the deer in the headlights thing so I took a melatonin and curled up in fort blankie before ten p.m.

I don’t think some understand how hard this sleep thing can be for me. My brain requires major sedation to slow down but I can’t stand being all dopey so I do the bare minimum to nod off. The tiniest thing, like a cat gnawing my toe, or a car driving by with thudding bass music, can disturb that delicate balance where I have calmed enough to nod off. I was going to be brave and daring, get plenty of rest, then rise this morning with every intent of going to my kid’s program cos sometimes the brain reboot of sleep can help times a thousand.

So imagine how my night unfolded when there was a knock on the door around ten thirty p.m. and I opened my door to find three state policeman wandering around my yard with flash lights asking if someone named Dennis was here. HOLY FUCKING WHAT THE HELL???? I said no, they thanked me, and went on searching the rest of the trailer park. I returned to bed, thoroughly shaken and wondering if some dangerous meth head was loose. Maybe he was living in my back bedroom which I never use…My windows don’t lock properly, he could come in and hack me up in my sleep for fun…

Yeah, asinine, and yet scumbag brain does it to me every time. I took a xanax, I took another melatonin. Every time I started to nod off, I jolted awake. I could only stand two minutes outside fort blankie because no matter how warm it is (the temp said 49) I always feel fucking cold except for the hot flashes where I all but strip to my bra in public. So I couldn’t even get up and piddle away the panic energy. Tossed, turned, nodded off, woke again and again.

By the time the alarm went off, I said, to hell with it, I’ll live with the guilt trips, not like I can ever do anything right in my father’s eyes anyway. I doubt my kid will even miss me. Besides, I think they’re psychotic and playing mind games. Supposedly all the “don’t tell mommy” stuff was they bought her a new dress for the program and were gonna surprise me with pictures of her at the program. So if that was the plan, inviting me is redundant, no? Or is it just the ass saving story they came up with to defuse their own wrong doing? I am confused, to be honest.

To top it all off, I spent half the night tied to tissues, coughing up phlegm hobgloblins cos my sinuses are all drainy and allergy triggered and I went into the dish last night for cat food thus setting it all off.

OH, WAIT THERE’S MORE!

Yeah, the oompa loompa ovary cramps are no longer visiting, they are now a constant presence so I have a day or two before I start praying for my spine to snap already cos the pain is just annoying. I’m not whining. I am RAGING. It pisses me off to be rendered so utterly useless by something other women just breeze through thus making those of us who have a rough shark week look like dramatic malingerers.

STAB-O-MATIC NOW.

So I am just gonna stay home, deal with the aftermath, and whatever. I could have a knife in my skull and my parents would still find a way to make it seem like me being an uncaring flake. Why bother getting stress when nothing I do changes a damned thing. (Yeah, doctors, until your therapy can fix my family and their lack of support but surplus of criticism, you’re kind of useless.)

I just keep telling myself it’s almost over, this holiday shit is almost over…Christmas Eve to survive, then on Christmas day Spook and I will stay home, in jammies, she will open gifts and play with them all day and I can spend the time applying salve to all my wounds inflicted by my loving family.

Same shit, different year.

Ho ho ho, merry fuckin’ Christmas.

Now gimme my Stab-0-Matic, Santa.

Advertisements

17 Responses to “I want my Stab-0-Matic NOW”

  1. STAB•O•MATIC® PLUS rechargeable lithium ion batteries AND a year supply of ‘D’ batteries to boot! *wait, there’s more ~ a purse sized STAB•O•MATIC®for those moments you want (NEED) discretion. HO HO HO! MER~RY STABBING!! *

    • STAB•O•MATIC® PLUS rechargeable lithium ion batteries AND a year supply of ‘D’ batteries to boot! *wait, there’s more ~ a purse sized STAB•O•MATIC®for those moments you want (NEED) discretion. HO HO HO! MER~RY STABBING!! *

  2. Let them say and think whatever. Now, if they start poisoning Spook about why you didn’t show up, I’m gonna stitch their anus.

  3. Zoe, you stitch their anus, I’ll stitch their MOUTHES!

  4. dang, I didn’t even know they made a stab-o-matic. I want one too!!!! Does it look like Futurama’s Roberto?

  5. Damn the same night the cops were at your house looking for Dennis, the cops here came over my back privacy fence “in pursuit” of someone who had apparently cut through my back yard. I was having trouble sleeping and all of a sudden saw a flashlight cut across the back yard and a man look over the fence. When I yelled he identified as a cop and said to lock my doors. FUCK. Cutting through my back yard is not easy as we have surrounded ourselves in privacy fencing. Glad you (and me) are ok!

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: