The Functionality Flip

Following Sunday night’s meltdown into the abyss…I took all my anxiety and hatred and became a cleaning whirlwind yesterday. I’m not saying I dusted (geesh, this is a non fiction blog!) but wow, I got six loads of laundry washed, folded and put away, including bedding. My sister gave me her old vacuum last month and I finally brought it in from the car and started on the sabertooth fur cats that had been gathering on the carpets for months. I couldn’t believe the difference simple vacuuming made. My carpet is still stained and stuff but, wow. I was impressed. Guess that goes to show how long I haven’t had a working vacuum. I mean, I even used the attachments and bothered getting into crevices and along the walls.

I was possessed. I think mainly because it beat thinking of all the horrible machinations the donor may be up to. Every time my mind wandered to that, I gave myself a new task to work on. Cat boxes? Emptied, cleaned, refilled. Dishes? Done. I brought a different lamp into the living room (where I stayed the entire day rather than hiding in the bedroom crypt.) Oh, I finally took the Christmas tree down, ha. Or I put it in a trash bag and shoved it in the spare room anyway. It’s down at least. I swapped out my bug damaged six year old microwave for the “new” one dad got at auction and I left sitting on the couch for oh…four months. (Yes, I suck.)

I remember thinking, if only I could be that functional everyday. The mundanes think it’s a matter of simply wanting it and it happens. It really doesn’t work that way. The uber functional mind set, especially in the midst of depression and anxiety, is a fly by night operation. It hits, it leaves, and you may not see it again for months.

Of course, it wouldn’t be my life if some wrenches weren’t thrown in the works. While vacuuming I overloaded the outlet and crashed half the place’s power. I got most of it reset but now I have no power in my bedroom or living room which means…Fuck, I’m gonna have to ask the landlord to get an electrician here, who will no doubt say it’d be cheaper and safer to just move and have this place demolished.

Then true to form…I broke the vacuum. Well, not broke, but it shut off and wouldn’t come back on. I was starting to freak out, so I pushed it aside. Then realized if I didn’t try to fix it I was right back to square one so I got out my screwdriver, plopped on the floor and proceeded to remove the bottom. Now for normal brains it’s just four screws and putting the belt on the roller properly. For MY brain it was panic city as I tend to forget what goes where. My short term memory is fucked. But once I removed the roller and cut through all the cat hair and tree tinsel wrapped around it..Bam. I fixed it, yay me.

I felt good to have accomplished so much. Especially that vile word housekeeping, ewwwww.

Today…I don’t know if it’s the gloom or knowing R wants me to pop in and look at his cousin’s laptop but I am not feeling functional at all. In fact, I want to go back to sleep. I haven’t even taken my meds yet. I also need to call the dr’s office and explain, you won’t find my lithium level test because um, I can’t afford the gas to drive all the way out there and have it done…This thing where the school won’t let my kid ride the bus is bankrupting me, it’s like seventy bucks a month gas just for her transportation which means we don’t get anywhere else….Not even for me to get my lithium level checked cos that’s gas I have to keep in the car to transport her so she isn’t called truant.

Frick fuckity frick fuck fuck.

On a happier note, I watched episode one of The X-Files reboot and it is AWESOME.  And hitting pretty close to the truth these days.

Sorry I yapped so much about the housework thing. I know it’s what everyone else does every day, BFD, blah blah. It was a huge accomplishment for me, even as I look at what still needs to be done to make the place “clean–ish” and want to return to fort blankie.

I told R last night I am worried sick that the donor is going to try to get joint custody to get out of paying the twenty percent support on Spook. I am not off the wall here. Why would someone say they needed to consult an attorney on a matter of child support unless they’re looking to work their way out of it? I just have a bad feeling, no matter how much everyone reassures me.

I guess I am gonna play the “will I puke today” lottery and take my lithium. Joy. I think I forgot my dose last night…

Damn it, this is where I get all fucked up. Give me pills I can just take as one handful once a day, ffs. My brain is too scrambled to remember two pills here, two there, another two here, take three of these at 4 p.m….If I were competent enough to do numbers I’d still be working, damn it.

Stupid fucking bipolar. I felt like a normal human yesterday and today I am a discombobulated basketcase.

Fuck you with a thousand barbwire dildos, bipolar. Just…fuck you.



7 Responses to “The Functionality Flip”

  1. you did fucking awesome yesterday. and you’re right to suspect the donor, I have seen that kind of shitty behavior before and hated the guy for how he treated his ex, and manipulated not just the kids but also the courts to get out of his responsibility. Fucker. His lawyer was well-hated slime, a match for his client. The lawyer’s dead now, a cliche I’m sure. And the boys are grown now and sorted out their dad only cared about himself.

    If a dad really cares about his kids he will do above and beyond what is “duty.” It’s “duty” to provide court mandated child support (and/or back-support if it was supposed to be given). Beyond “duty,” there are Christmas and birthday presents, school supplies, random encouragements like gifts or cards or extra monetary support for things beyond clothes and shoes, and if visitation is allowed, there are trips to chuck-e-cheese or the bounce place, mcDonalds or whatever. If a dad doesn’t care about the kids he will hurt their mother, and manipulate the kids to hate their mother, by being mister-spend-it-all when the kid can be weaponized, and shorting or not paying his child support unless the court garnishes his wages.

    Love means going the extra mile, not begrudging your duty but doing more than your duty. “Disney Dad” is not the way to treat your child, when you say you love them.

  2. Shit I’m impressed with all that housework, well done. I need to feel one of those urges soon, Sighhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh. Fuck bipolar, fuck bipolar, fuuuuuuuuckkkkk bipolar.

    • When I win the lottery I can travel with my wife, she can visit and be chatty or play tourist, and I can bring the cleaning supplies and dive in. If I have the energy, I do love to clean. And even when I’m exhausted, I love to bake fresh bread. That’s a daydream I’d love to see come true. I’ll let you know.

      Until then, I’m praying for the whole community to have the energy to do the extra stuff. God knows I sit around looking at shit I really should clean and frequently don’t feel the energy to get up and do it. Or it piles up and makes me more down. To quote a wise and awesome friend, “Sighhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh. Fuck bipolar, fuck bipolar, fuuuuuuuuckkkkk bipolar.”

  3. I’m never that productive when I’m depressed. Fucking awesome job! And fuck bipolar straight in it’s atrocious asshole!!!

  4. Holy crap that was a lot of housework! That is NOT what normal people do on a normal day (at least I don’t think so…wtf do I know about normal?) So get on with your bad self and give yourself the credit you are due.

    I also understand why you are concerned. There’s no way to know what someone else has up their sleeve. Deadbeat parents are the worst kind of scum.

    Eh fucking bipolar fucking sucks

  5. Pfft, chores are hard. If I manage -a- chore past not accidentally killing Littlerbit, I consider the day a freaking victory.

  6. sandracharrondotcom Says:

    As I was reading all of your awesome accomplishments all I could think was, “Boy is she going to crash hard.” It is so shitty that cleaning our homes means we need three months to recover. But yeah you! You fixed an appliance!…Does a vacuum count as an appliance? Whatever. You did good. Be proud.

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