The Term ‘Mood Enhancer’ Needs To Die In A Fire

Today’s inane title stems from something I heard on a TV show weeks ago and it really pissed me off because calling anti-depressants mood enhancers is like calling cancer a ‘mild’ disease…JUST SAY NO. I have been shoveling the so called mood enhancers for oh so many years and guess what…mood. not. enhanced. At best, they keep me from garling bleach on some days. So whatever moron came up with the correlation between anti-depressant medications and the term ‘mood enhancer’ should be Z-Whacked. Not a thing, idgets.

And that completely random rant was brought to you by THE SUN ACTUALLY CAME OUT AND IT STOPPED RAINING TODAY SO I DON’T WANT TO DIE Morgue’s mind.

Yesterday it did not rain but it was gray and cold so that was bleach drinking territory, topped off with ‘money’s gone in the bank on the first every month for four months so let’s assume it will be there, OH FUCK IT ISN’T AND I AM OUT OF CIGARETTES, JUST KILL ME NOW, I AM A SELFISH AWFUL PERSON FOR THINKING THAT’ chaser. Deviation is evil. If you build a pattern for me and establish it, it should not deviate. EVER. It’s not just the boo hoo, I have to puff on an e-cig I used a coupon for and only spent a buck fifty…It’s how deviation plays with the mind of a bipolar depressive still stuck in the undertow of seasonal depression BECAUSE THE MIDWEST DOES NOT GRASP THAT IT IS FRICKIN’ SPRING AND SHOULD NOT BE 40 DEGREES OUT!

Sorry about all the CAPS yelling, bad netiquette, bad Morgue, but…I am a little hypo manic today. Not the irate “wanna choke you for existing” hypo, just the ‘thoughts racing a little too fast so let me speak rapidly and come off as a crazy person’ hypo mania. Which includes a lot of caps lock and seeming irrational and irate when in fact…

I am actually NOT murderous or even pissed off today. At all. Not even traffic made me scream and curse. I ran several errands and…it was okay. Why? Because it stopped raining and the sun came out and I am not wearing six layers of clothing. I even showered and it’s not yet 1 p.m. So mental health professionals who think a light is going to help seasonal affective disorder issues…Bite me. Not in a sexy way. If the weather is good, I do better. If the weather is shitty…the depression makes me its bitch, fancy sunlight simulating lamp or not.

I have even kept writing through all of this bad weather, even if I was maxing at 5 pages (counts double because I switched to single spacing, 1.5 spacing just seems puny to me even if editors frown upon it and ha ha ha, let’s be honest, I am never gonna submit this shit to someone who likely can’t write thus they edit and by edit I mean shred someone else’s heartfelt work. Except for Stephen King’s editor who still hasn’t taught the man a novel doesn’t have to be 900 plus pages to be good.) Maxing out on the parenthesis there, aren’t I? Whatevs. I digress. Still writing. Though the weather had such an abrupt negative impact on my mood I am fairly sure everything I’ve written for two weeks has been utter garbage and will embarrass me when I re-read it during a more solid mental space.

STILL WRITING. That is all that matters, creativity makes me want to stay up past 8 p.m. and sort of get up in the morning. I only have a few more weeks of spawn free daytime focus writing left before school is out so I want to treat it like an alcohol bender and get wasted off my ass. Does that make sense to non creative types? Or types who don’t smother their depression and anxiety with alcohol?

Meh. I would worry but I’ve had whiskey in the cabinet for weeks and not gone near it. Sometimes you want a drink, sometimes you wanna climb into the bottle or can, other times…you just don’t. I’d make a lousy alcoholic. And our local treatment center is being closed down so I probably shouldn’t take that as a challenge.

Are we having fun yet? My old counselors loved manic Morgue. They literally told me so repeatedly. They found me upbeat and funny and not even rapid fire switch and ADHD topic changes made them less amused. Too bad the idgets around me assume manic means drunk, they are missing out on semi happy fun ball me. Fuck ’em.

In other news, I hazarded a trip to Aldi yesterday and well fuck, ran into my dad’s crew. I tried to be all upbeat. My dad asked if the heat got fixed yet. Then got pissy because he offered me some old heaters and I turned them down because his auction buy heaters are always so old, they throw my breakers. Now the newer ones like the landlord loaned me during winter, not once was a breaker thrown. But because my dad is an assclown with a thick skull and zero logic, he told me my house is a fire hazard just because his old ancient heaters don’t agree with my place’s wiring. And there went upbeat and started neurotic, “He’s basically calling you a shit mom who is endangering her child because his antique junk isn’t rated for the trailer’s wiring.”

I so don’t give a fuck 99% of the time because my parents are nuts and critical and without reason. And when I lived alone and everything was broken, my dad didn’t care, literally, if I died in a fire. My uterus and other bits push out an adorable spawn, suddenly he cares. Fuck you, too, donor of sperm. Why I let them get to me I will never know. Every counselor ever who has talked to me or met my parents agrees…I may be chemically imbalanced but they have the personality issues and are actually pretty nasty toward me thus to be avoided. Stupid small town and its limited store options, bound to occasionally run into the asshats.

I thought that was the worst of my day. NOOOO. My kid comes home, I allow her to have ONE friend inside to play…I think okay, this kid is quiet and not demanding food so cool. Then I start smelling what I think is nail polish remover and ask Spook if she spilled some and she tells me no, absolutely not. I go into her room to put away laundry and all over table is a huge glob of silver nail polish she did indeed dump. I guess I overreacted because semantics, she didn’t spill remover, just the messy shiny polish itself. And then her little friend, in addition to not even saying thank you for the snack offered, left the open package on the couch with half the cookies remaining and crumbs all over the place.

I called it quits at that point, sent the kid home, and my kid started spazzing out when I tried to discipline her by grounding her from her friends a few days. I open my home, give my trust even when my mood isn’t great and once more I get stabbed in the back. Uncool. The piece de resistance for her was when she whipped out her church/religion logic on me because I agreed to let her attend Sundays as well as Wednesdays. Suddenly, I have ZERO parental authority because the church says so and she is going to tell them I won’t forgive her every tiny mistake like God does.

My one caveat to the church thing was for her to not preach to me and bam, she preaches at me. If they are teaching her that God dictates no consequences to poor behavior, I am being usurped by the bloody church and I don’t think she needs to go, she is obviously not old enough to grasp their message in a logical way. God may forgive your mistakes, but I’d like to think whatever deity there is (God, Budha, flying spaghetti monster) they all agree you shouldn’t be a dick and when you do dick things, you have to stop doing them to earn the forgiveness. I could be wrong but damn it infuriated to have a 7 year old tell me the church was going to chastise me for trying to teach her consequences to her actions. Like LYING, which while my grasp on religion is kind of loose, is a Bad Thing listed in the Bible.

Wow, so did not intend this to be a tirade. My bad.

Anyway…today’s not sucked so much.

On a final note…Oh, it soo would not be a Morgue post without some R bashing. I spent days looking for a part for him using every bloody search engine, every part and model number, every country’s sales sites…to no avail. I checked at 6 p.m. and came up snake eyes. He called me at 9:30 and informed me, snottily I might add, that he just found it on ebay. That tone that says ‘you didn’t even try.”

I bashed my head against the fucking wall over that damned part. And because he is such a moron he didn’t see the heading NEW LISTING! where it had been posted after the last time I searched…He cops an attitude like I didn’t put forth the effort. I never thought I would say it but I can’t wait til he fixes my car muffler and shuts down that place because I am tired of pegacorn hunting only for him to make me feel useless and stupid. A friend wouldn’t do that. Hell, I had bosses who wouldn’t even do that. And since wifey came back from her university job, he’s not once sent a text or called in which it did not involve me finding a part. Not a how are you and Spook, nothing but HIM HIM PARTS PARTS. Yet when I call him on it he turns the tables, essentially says I’ve got it all wrong, and makes me feel shittier.

Maybe it’s not always me being dysfunctional and moody that kills my friendships and the like. Novel idea…maybe some people are just cruel self absorbed cockweasels who aren’t worthy of my wonderfully quirky moodiness.

And on that, I leave you with a t-shirt I totally want.

“I can’t go to Hell until the devil has that restraining order lifted.”

Morgue…OUT.

(Spork of fortitude if you finished reading beyond halfway.)

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3 Responses to “The Term ‘Mood Enhancer’ Needs To Die In A Fire”

  1. “Spork of Fortitide” is fantastic. I plan to use that. I’m a teacher…I’m going to award it to a kid who tries really hard on something this week. 🙂

  2. Church obviously hasn’t taught Spook yet that Jesus was in fact a force for trying to make people who were doing evil repent.

  3. Epic!
    Now take your ‘mood enhancer’ and think of fluffy animals (as I point you in the direction of those I hate!)
    And don’t worry, English weather is never behaving itself… As I mention at the risk of my life that I hate the sun!

    Ps: The devil doesn’t want your soul but wants to offer you a job
    Free cigs as payment!

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