Bad Things Happen And Life Still Goes On



I managed two weeks of max stress and agitation. Now I am complete splat. Including stomach issues, headache, a complete inability to focus or enjoy anything, and a strong desire to clock watch and count hours until I can just melt away into sleep….

Oh, depression…I did not miss your crippling presence. You were always there, lingering, hovering, a black cloud over head but now that all my resources for coping have been used…You are kicking my ass. And I am too damned tired to fight you. For now.

I don’t know if it was the looming depressive splat or my fried nerves but I let my kid stay at her grandmother’s last night. I just needed quiet. My brain, literally, needed quiet. I should not have let her think she was being rewarded and that it is my failure but…Geesh, I am not superhuman. I have limits. Two mega fits from her in three days, plus all the other crap on my plate…I earned that reprieve. And she’s still grounded from her friends, her new bike, the phone…I am trying to be consistent but when you reach a point of not liking your kid cos you’re just beaten down so far…A break isn’t the worst thing you can give yourself.

I am drained. I slept but I was wakened several times. Once at 11:30 by a text from R telling me one of his eldest’s friends died, apparent overdose. That’s two of her friends that have died in less than a year of an overdose. This girl I actually knew, so it’s disturbed me to an extent. She wasn’t even 30 years old. Here I am, barely functional or desiring to function, living on and on. Yeah, fatalistic, I  have a kid to think about, I suck.

Contrary to what some think…Having a kid doesn’t cure you of depression, bipolar, anxiety, or the desire to simply cease to exist because it hurts too much to be alive, trying so hard and still failing. My kid makes me fight harder, sure. She can’t trump depression, though. It’s not a matter of what’s more important. It’s a matter of what messages my brain is sending to me. Some days it says to fight and rebel. Others, like today, it tells me how unworthy I am to still be breathing.

To add more insult to injury…I didn’t lose food stamps for Spook but they cut the amount 70%. Which means all that child support money will be going toward food rather than pet care or making my car not a death trap. Just as I feared all along. I am worse off rather than better. I am a horrible person for bitching, yeah, yeah. The system shouldn’t punish for trying to make ends meet, though.

On the plus side, it means I am probably gonna lose a lot of weight as I struggle to make sure every available cent goes toward her getting decent nutrition. Not like I eat fancy now, but I had enough to feed us both. Now…Not so much. More financial juggling will be required. First world problems. I feel like a jerk even mentioning this shit and yet…

B hings happen and life goes on.

I received the information and book where she was approved for the donor’s insurance policy. That sent me crashing down even more. Rather than simplify things, this has complicated it. It will surely mean having to communicate with him at some point. I’d rather gargle broken glass.

Meanwhile, still zero word from the lawyer about where things stand in dissolving my other tie to him. And I just wanna rip the bandage off. Be done with it. I moved on a month after he left, and five years later, still trying to rid myself of the albatross.

I’m a mess, period. Stomach hurts. Head aches. Body feels bruised. I can’t focus, can’t even enjoy my TV shows. I want to go to bed. That’s my primary thought.

No matter how many of these severe splat days I experience in my life…I never quite get used to them. Never get used to how low it takes me, how close to that dark space you can’t return from it goes…

I am trying to look around for hope, for things that are positive.

Depression eats positive for breakfast.

So I am gonna write this day off. I’m taking care of my kid. Aside from laundry to be folded, the house isn’t that bad. Fuck it. I can have a down day. Not like I get a say in the matter. Scumbag brain is on a roll with the bad mental juju.

On a final note…If you were a fan of the old show Prison Break, or a fan of the new Legends of Tomorrow, this article with star Wentworth Miller interested me a great deal. Depression doesn’t care if you’re a Hollywood celebrity. The suffering is the same. The feelings he speaks of…Depression is universal.


Oh and it’s world bipolar day or some shit so…Go make someone aware of bipolar disorder. Like it will matter. Instead, I say we throw bipolar a parade, rain on it, and blow up its fucking floats.



10 Responses to “Bad Things Happen And Life Still Goes On”

  1. Howthefuck?!? do they justify cutting the help you needed before, just to survive, seeing you don’t actually benefit from the child support, if he bothers to pay it? Don’t they realize child support is FOR THE CHILD and not just to pad your bank account? See, now I’ve worked up a good rage. Fucking idiots.

    • I’m glad you’ve got the rage covered. Leslie has the up and downs, Morgue has the pitfalls and I’m just empty. 2 outta 4 for some kinda feels is better than us all circling the drain.
      As for the child support: the courts and government don’t give a rat’s ass that there’s already a struggle in place and see the “child support” as a means to get OFF of govt help, when all they area doing is ensuring that the hole they address in they can never get out of. I can’t stand this crap for Morgue.

      • I feel like a jerk for even bitching about it but it’s fact. All these people want me to move her out of the trailer park and now whatever money of mine I could have been saving for a move…will be spent making up for food money they took away while the support, as it should, goes toward her needs.
        Hard to get ahead when the system keeps knocking you backward, all the while critiquing you for not doing better.

      • You aren’t bitching. You are venting your frustrations about the assholes who told you to do something you didn’t want to do because you knew this would be the outcome,and yet there they still are. Knocking you down because of their stupidity *ie, car, child support, R-soles gopher* and you are still doing WAY more for Spook than those fuckers can even dream about. Because you are selfless and put Spooks needs before anything else. Fuck those fuckers. You deserve your splatter-day, and I’ll come kick some ass because you have friends that give a whole lot of shits about you
        Yes, I got mushy. You’re gonna take it and like it! 😊
        For reallies tho… We know how much you do for Spook, and how all of it goes unappreciated, and those assharpies pick because they don’t have shit else to do. Don’t worry, dear Morgue. Karma.

      • You have every right to bitch about that shit.

  2. I don’t think that you ever get used to the splat days. I don’t think that you can. fuck bipolar

  3. Overdose… We need more interesting suicide methods
    Stepped into a quantum singularity
    Sunk in a tar pit
    Caused internal combustion
    Faked my murder to get revenge on the ex
    Stepped into a cult HQ and claimed they were idiots
    Walked into a biker bar and kissed the bosses women, then the boss! (Only works for men)

    Would be more interesting, as I potentially earn the rank of most disrespectful blogger in the world for listing suicide options given your post’s content

    But…. I’ll say ‘Pissed off the blogger community until they beat me to death with smartphones’
    I can hear that sensitivity and communication workshop calling me!

  4. PS: No disrespect intended and if depression can’t kill you after this long, you’ll get the pleasure of out living the human race and cockroaches

    “Yes, i’d like to book a sensitivity workshop…..”

  5. “No, the rest of the world will pay for it because they hate my guts”

  6. Don’t feel bad about having her stay with someone so you can work on you. If you don’t take care of yourself then you won’t be able to take care of Spook.

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