Are You There, Readers? It’s Me, Morgue

Spork of fortitude to anyone old enough to get that title reference to the Judy Blume book, Are You There, God? It’s Me, Margaret. I’ve not read the book since I was 12 but I have been binge watching Supernatural from season one and there was an episode called, Are You There, God? It’s me, Dean Winchester. Since it’s been days since anyone’s blog post made it into my email inbox…Really….Are you there, readers/bloggers???

I am in a state of hellish flux. Due to intrusion of people (and by that, I mean R, who only contacts me when he needs something or wifey is out of town and the cool kids are too busy to hang out and entertain him)…My writing has hit a fucking cement wall. I feel hopelessly blocked and it’s not been a full month. I am disgusted, frustrated, pissed off and desperate to find any way back into creative mode I can. It’s not happening.

Much of which I blame on the stupid fucking weather, which still hasn’t gotten the memo that it is spring so I should not be shivering under a damned blanket still.Two days running the cold has made me exhausted and lagging. Sleeping after I drop Spook at school, shunning even good company (ie, no strings attached sex) and not being able to write. SUCKAGE. The outside world needs to stay the fuck away when I am in write mode. Unfortunately, the confrontation complication means I don’t often feel justified in telling R no, I don’t want company and I don’t want to come to the shop to juggle iguanas and amuse you. Because manipulative narcissist he is, he plays it off like I am rejecting bitch or some shit. When in fact he is the selfish insensitive asshole texting me every ten minutes even though I said I had a killer migraine.

I also missed meds for 2 days so I may not be entirely on kilter. Why did I miss them? I dreaded the nausea so much, I couldn’t bring myself to risk it. Sometimes it happens, sometimes not. When I am in freefall due to cold weather and in a depressive rage when the writing blocks…NOT the time to pile on med induced nausea and barfing.

Aside from finding some new bands I totally dig (Motionless In White, I Prevail) and some newer stuff by bands I’ve loved for years (Adelitas Way)…My life remains joyless as I brave Easter weekend with the spawn home 4 straight days and pegacorn knows what drama on Easter itself. I see the doctor the Thursday after Easter but I am not hopeful. For a disorder serious enough to be granted disability, it seems a disservice, and downright insulting, to not be able to get an appointment more than once every 3 or 4 months. Maybe if he didn’t constantly leave me waiting for med changes, I might make some goddamn progress.

Neither here nor there. I am just pissy because the writing has gone away. It could be a days long respite while my brain battles seasonal weather issues. It could simply be end of the road. I guess what counts is that I am still here, trying, fighting, kicking, clawing…Though sometimes I welcome death because I am just…fucking tired. Not being a wuss, just being brutally honest. I mean, if I can’t have any quality of life…What’s the point of living?

Makes me sometimes think whatever deity exists…is a damned sadist. That’s just me, though. And I am often whack-a-doodle.


4 Responses to “Are You There, Readers? It’s Me, Morgue”

  1. I still have my spork of fortitude around here somewhere… In a box… Maybe we can get ours together and eat a salad

  2. See, you’re my favorite kind of salad- whack-a-doodle salad with fortitude dressing. Let’s break out the sporks! I love you and I’ve been missing you. Too crazy to blog, I lack any motivation.

  3. Whatever deity is working the gig for me, I’ll assume it’s the same one you reference and go for the ‘mysterious ways’ bull crap so to avoid jumping off anything high!

  4. Ha ha, I just read that book aloud to my 11 year old, loved it then, loved it now. Keep fighting the good fight. Dare I say “the sun will come out tomorrow…” ??? At least you are writing on your blog, that’s more than I can do at the moment. In anxiety and nap solidarity with you.

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