Life is Like Shampoo

Lather. Rinse. Repeat.

I’ve felt this way about life for so long, I think it’s doused whatever will to live I had left. Because no matter what progress I make, be it with my kid, housework, the bills…It never ends. You just have to turn around and do it again an hour later, a day later, a week later. Endless. Fucking. Cycle.

And to prove it’s not some depressive/negative attitude about my life in particular…I view ALL LIFE this way. Even that of a celebrity or the idle rich. Oh, wow, let’s go to a movie gala, let’s hit this hot nightclub and get wasted, let’s wake up in the afternoon and go shopping…

Pfft. That, too, is lather, rinse, repeat. Just more of the same.

Am I jaded? Pessimistic?

Not really. I am being honest.

Even when life is “good”,  I still view it same as I do washing my hair. Blah.

I keep doing it because I am, after all, a well trained seal.

It does not bring much by way of joy. Fleeting moments of relief or “yayness”.

Is this part of the depression? Ya know, the depression I told my shrink I thought was getting better at the start of this month?

Maybe.

But also…having a child changed me. My brain chemistry even. In the 8 years since pregnancy and her birth, I’ve spent about 7 years as a joyless hopeless husk of my former self.

Now, before anyone jumps to the “go to” conclusion that obviously, I just find parenthood boring and probably resent my kid, blah blah blah…

I love being a mom. I love my kid. I love her giggle, I love the way she begs me to tickle her pickles and play bongo butt (don’t ask.) I love her art work and I love hearing her on the phone and she has made me ten times better as a person. Given me a conscience. A moral compass. She has made me want to become better.

So let’s not blame this on my child.

And let’s not blame it on the grind of life, entirely. No, I didn’t see being a single mom and trying to survive on disability. It does wear me down. I get tired of, as in this week, looking at the gas gauge and breathing nervously, as I hope that orange mark means I still have enough fuel to get her to school and home until Friday. Hells yeah, that shit is stressful and takes it out of you.

Unfortunately,it’s common as I hear my neighbors and family voice the same concerns.

What could possibly dampen the smoldering flames of defiance that once made me want to live forever?

I think something happened to my body, between the pregnancy, then getting dosed with depo provera and nearly losing my mind, that has put me in my current mental space.

I WANT MY FUCKING GROOVE BACK.

I want back my defiant “fuck you, I am gonna live forever and if I die, I will come back and live forever some more, fuck you fuck you fuck you!”

That was the fire that kept me alive for so long.

Now…when being nakedly honest and risking judgment…My brain exhaustedly mumbles, “Woohoo, 11 more years til she’s 18 and I can finally die in peace.”

Yes, that is how my brain is working. Because it is a scumbag.

Also, I think rather than jar my chemicals/hormones into behaving as an old shrink once hypothesized…all the hormonal, chemical, and bodily changes jarred things into perpetual depression and anxiety.

Am I in denial and just blaming what’s handy?

Doubtful. My honest is so blunt it could be used as a murder weapon to bash in a skull.

I just haven’t quite been myself since Spook was born.

And I wonder if all my chemicals got so altered, maybe this is my new norm.

In which case…It’s gonna be a long ass 11 years.

Just sayin’.

Advertisements

11 Responses to “Life is Like Shampoo”

  1. I understand this post Morgue. I look at my future and I see this roller coaster of days stretching on and on and on and all I want is relief from the cycle of lather rinse repeat. I would never doubt your love for Spook. But just because we have intense love for someone else doesn’t change the way we are seeing things.

  2. Mine got worse with menopause. I handled 3 kids and IT til I was about 35 then change, kind of hovered again without meds since they couldn’t find one and then menopause hit and now the hospital trips have started and I can’t go medicineless.

  3. katiereablog Says:

    Thank you for sharing this. I can completely relate so I am following you so I can read more.

  4. Keep it honest. You aren’t a bakery. I do believe meds and hormones mess with our brain chemistry. Latarda incident ’14-’15. And I had the Mirena and I was Super Bitch. Fucking asshat Dr’s and therapists don’t know a damn thing because they can’t walk in your shoes or really give you the time you need to explain it. Grip the steering wheel, take a deep breath, and pray the orange needle doesn’t dip. You know you’ve got some great support here on WP, and we’ll help hide the body Honesty does in.

  5. GOD, YES, PLEASE. Not blasphemy, but rather a prayer for you. I want your fucking groove back. I want me to have it, I want you to have it, I want our community to have it, and I want your nakedly honest brain to have better celebrations, and reasons for the parties. And I want the whole community to have a big huge nakedly honest brain party on a monthly basis. I haven’t slept right since starting the medigoround, thanks, Doctor.

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: