Light, Tunnel, End, Not a Train

Oh, that elusive day where the brain cooperates, the body follows suit, and everything doesn’t seem like a pointless vile shitstorm. Light at the end of the tunnel and it’s not a train! Who friggin knew it could happen?

Nothing fabulous happened today. Nothing catastrophic, either. The cats ran out of food and I ran out of smokes…Rather than hit the R panic bell…I sold off my complete set of Nightmare on Elm Street movies. About two hundred bucks worth of movies…he gave me five bucks. Oh, well. Got me what I needed. Hadn’t touched the movies since Bex was here almost two years ago, anyway.

I’ve been running a free daycare all week. Today, blessed be, K’s mom put out a slip and slide and had all the kids down at her house for three hours. I needed the break. Of course, the brats still came back here, full of demands for foods and guilting my kid when she didn’t sneak behind my back to get it for them…Awful children. I know some say normal for kids of that age, but I say awful. Maybe my momster and her “don’t EVER ask for food at someone else’s house!” traumatized me.

Since the kids were elsewhere and my mind cleared…I kicked ass and got shit done. ELEVEN baskets of clean but unfolded laundry finally folded and  put away. I did dishes. I vacuumed. I cooked dinner. I don’t feel half bad, either, even though typhoid devil kids returned to haunt my yard.

I think maybe the trauma of the car breaking down then my dad going off on me put me in this “precipice” place. I have shut out my dad. I am not dwelling on the Grand Am needing moved. Plus, the shrink agreed to be less conservative and bumped me to 40mg prozac for two weeks, then up to 60 for another two weeks. He LISTENED. I am starting to think maybe the times I have my kid with me he’s unnerved or I am. Because this time the appointment went smoothly. He was pleasant, empathetic, understanding, said the people around me are the ones who are stupid if they think I am just flaky and lazy…I am legitimately depressed and disabled.

Validation. One would think it’s such a silly thing and yet when it comes to this mental health bullshit…I need validation. I guess that makes me pathetic. But I don’t need validated in any other area, I simply don’t care how I look or what people think of my style/likes/etc. I guess mental health has so much stigma that the occasional nod of understanding from the professionals makes your inertia seem less crippling.

I don’t have a fricking clue how this shit works. I know for two months that laundry piled up. I’d wash it, dry, but I absolutely could not fold more than a basket before falling down the rabbit hole again. Today…I just did it. It wasn’t my idea of a good time. Housework is evil, I want a self cleaning home. But I did it while the will was there and it felt good.

Now tomorrow if the support check comes and the car is still on  the street (awful that I’ve not gone to check, right?) I have to get it towed…The question is, towed to where? I don’t have much of a drive/yard let alone for two cars. IF the tow truck survived all the fucking craters, er, pot holes here the landlord won’t fill. I can’t have it taken to R’s or his son in law’s. So…what the actual fuck? I have no idea.

What I really want to do is just find some junk dealer to drag it off like I did with the blue Grand Am. I could then just get all my info from the Pontiac transferred to the Buick. Maybe I need a week or two to save up cos normal expenses don’t stop coming just because your car takes a crap…But scrap is down in price and the Grand Am has little metal anyway so I don’t think I could even pay someone to drag it off.


I keep going over it in my head and it makes PERFECT sense to me, but I have been at the mercy of depression brain so long, I don’t know….My dad was the one flipping out about getting the car off the street, right? Doing it NOW. He has nine hundred saved up for work on his house, thus could easily float the fifty dollar tow fee for three days…Yet he does not even offer and drags R into it and screams at me like I did something wrong….

When a week ago he was wanting to unload the Grand Am and telling me to save up for something better….

Now mom is offering me the something better….And he’s pissed. Does that seem like senility to anyone else?

I should stop trying to figure out any member of my family. I just need to end this Grand Am fiasco and move on. Keep them out of my business and if the car needs work, go to R or a mechanic. Period.

So in a nut shell…today didn’t suck.

Will tomorrow?

Weekends usually do as that’s when I have to deal with my family. Even in small increments they are like drinking arsenic. I’ve built up immunity but one day that lethal dose is gonna come.

See? I’m a ray of sarcastic sunshine even when things aren’t absolute shit! It’s a gift.

10 Responses to “Light, Tunnel, End, Not a Train”

  1. heatherruark Says:

    Hiya Morgue! Sometimes not bad is just fine. I told you I’d help with a donation for the repairs on the Pontiac, and it seems like transferring everything to the Buick is going to cost soooo much less. Please email me so I can help. I’d rather not use GoFundMe because they take so much in fees.

    • I sent you an email, based on the address that popped up on my wordpress notifications..Hope that’s the right one. On the plus side, I am only looking at $140 to transfer. Unfortunately, normal bills don’t stop coming in so no excess to work with.
      Oh, well. Least I know this car is in working order even if it looks like crap. Drives like a fricking luxury car and I care more about that than impressing anyone with good looks.

      • heatherruark Says:

        Hi Morgue,

        I just checked all the emails I can remember I have, and I can’t find your email. Could you please resend to heatherruark at aol dot com?

      • I resent the email to the address. Maybe AOL sent it to spam?

        On Fri, May 27, 2016 at 4:19 PM, Take a Ride on My Mood Swing wrote:


    “Cuz today was a good day”

  3. So good to read this post, yay!

  4. Wow girl, a good day. Great! Hope it stays and I am glad you psychiatrist listened to you finally and bumped up the meds.

  5. Have it towed to your Dad’s. 🙂

  6. Beep bop bap boo

    Not sure what to say!?

Leave a Reply

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

You are commenting using your 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: