Depressive Undertow

Today has been utter shit. I woke up so lethargic and groggy, I came back home and decided to nap a bit before I was due at the shop. I even set the alarm. But when it went off, I hit snooze three times. I literally could not drag myself out of bed. I didn’t even have my morning smoke, or tea. I didn’t take anything to sleep last night. For the first time in days the sun was out. I can’t figure out why I was so dead. Today was check day. Normally I am all about out the door and getting a rare treat, pack of smokes, getting bills paid, errands run.

Today the depressive undertow just got the best of me.

By the time I decided I HAD to at least go pay rent…I went out to find the car battery had gone dead. Apparently I left the lights on. I don’t remember using the lights as it was sunny. Best I can figure is my purse bumped it when I was dragging my hazy butt out of the car. I called mom first but it was a no go as they have the new fangled shit that’s all computerized and fear jumping an old clunker would fry their delicate wiring.

None of the neighbors had jumper cables or did I.

Which left me calling R, who I had already pissed off by failing to show at 10 a.m. He got snarky. I  begged him to come give me a jump. He was pissy about leaving work but considering all I did for him last week when his car was down…FFS. Besides, he left an hour early the other day to put on his Green Lantern costume and participate in a parade. Surely twenty minutes to help me out isn’t asking too damned much?

So he got here and we had to push the car out so we could align the cables. Of course, my dumb ass forgot to put the key in so I could put it in neutral and he mocked me relentlessly. I said, “Fuck you, I’m not running on all 8 cylinders.” He sneered, “You’re sure not!” Well DUH, cockweasel. Got the damned thing running. I offered to buy him lunch for his troubles cos I really was feeling like a moron. He lectured me about how I had to have known ahead of time the car was dead and I just didn’t want to come in. I didn’t know until I tried it at noon. I was in a depressive narcolepsy, not that he cares to understand. Not a bit of empathy.

(Even now he is texting, “Did you look up that information I asked you to?” Um, we’ve not been home an hour, I have to give my kid a snack, do homework, put away groceries, plus all her friends are here and bickering…DAMNIT he acts like I don’t even have a kid to care for.)

Traffic was a bitch due to road construction which brought on the panic.

I managed to pay rent, put gas in the car. Went to Dollar Tree where the lines were long. My purse strap broke. (And yeah, it’s a ten dollar purse from China and a first world problem, but still, I LOVE this purse and now I’ve got it attached with big safety pins amping up the whole ‘she’s such white trash’ thing.)

(Cripes, my kid just got stung by a sweat bee, how the fuck can R not understand how full my plate truly is here????)

Spook was disappointed that I wouldn’t take her to the book fair. Well, my day has been shit and I just needed my safe space. Not like I have money to spare. Nope, no mermaid blanket again this month, ffs, one tiny thing and I can’t even swing it. But I will pawn some dvds or whatever like last year to get her a book or two. Just not today.

I am NOT doing well here. I am flailing. Going under. And I swear 80% is just unchecked Xanax. Would a 1mg increase make a difference? Well, it used to work like gangbusters and it’s the only thing these doctors haven’t been willing to try. I’ll be the first to admit if it makes no difference but why can’t we at least try it?

If there was a not sucky spot or two…I ran into a guy I worked with as a teenager, shocked he remembered my name. (I always went by my birth name there, no one ever called me Niki, I guess it was my way of disconnecting my true personality from that whole soul sucking corporate thing.) He told me I was looking real fine. Flattering, considering I’ve gained 80 pounds, my roots are gray, and I exude all the joy of a terminal patient wishing for death. I just smiled politely cos I am not used to compliments, at all. In fact, it makes me uncomfortable to be complimented on anything other than my mind or humor. You get insulted enough for appearance even from your own family…It happens.

Another possibly bright spot is I found a Patricia Cornwell book I’ve not read and got it for a buck. If my brain would slow down enough to truly let me enjoy reading.

SEE? I am TRYING to see the plus side amidst a sea of shit.

Now…to close this on a musical note. This song has always resonated with me, its topic being about trying to be what others want you to be and feeling caught in the emotional undertow.

 

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4 Responses to “Depressive Undertow”

  1. Ugh I’m so sorry you’re in this horrible place. R is so clueless it’s just not even funny and it’s definitely not helpful. I wish I had useful words that would be helpful, but I don’t. I’ve got nothing. The only thing I can say is that I understand and I sympathize. And I care about you and I hope that you feel at least somewhat better soon.

  2. 1) I am awake WAY too early.
    2) You are beautiful.

    I’m glad you got the car going and glad you were able to self-motivate enough to get stuff done. I’m proud of the way you handled R, and the crises with Spook, and the traffic, and the bills, and everything. You don’t see it from inside there, but you are fucking awesome.

    And not that it adds any value to your experience, but I love you, Miss H. Um, I mean “Niki.” ❤

    ~Deon, your morning lifeguard (stop staring! I'm just swimming in slow motion against the rip current!!)

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