Meltdown Much?

To paint an accurate portrait of just how much of a hot mess I am right now…One of the kitten walked over this laptop this morning and shut off the wifi. Rather than think logically, I went into meltdown. Because nooo, this computer doesn’t have the usual switch or slide to enable wifi. It has little light at the top, amber is off, blue is enabled. It was amber and nothing I did helped. So I got the other laptop but of course, it had nine fucking windows updates the last time it was on so I had to wait for those to configure.

(Ha, now my touchpad is working again and I have no idea why, that was another thing kitten paws had disabled so I just went external mouse.) By the time I got Google open and went searching for answers, I was screaming mad, like an idiot, of course. I had just sat down to start writing, got ten minutes in and all this shit happened so I spazzed, it’s my thing. And honestly, it should be that damned hard to figure out what function keys turn on wifi, ffs.

Then by sheer accident I was wiping the keyboard of dust to see if there was an idiot button (the one that says HEY IDIOT, PRESS HERE FOR WIFI)…bam. Blue light, enabled. It’s TOUCH controlled. How have I had this thing almost a year and never known that???? And having solved the issue…I now feel like a tantrum throwing moron. Not the first time, not the last. I am depression’s bitch and I am anxiety’s marionette. Smallest things send me into freefall and meltdown and it is humiliating. Like last month when I called the landlord’s office ranting about that dog next door trying to attack my kid and they said it was a problem for animal control. I was on a roll, though, throwing out words like “lawsuit” because if you are a landlord made aware a dangerous animal is being allowed to roam loose by irresponsible owners, YOU should be held accountable. Instead, the landlord and his employees now make even more condescending comments toward me and how I “get so upset.”

Yeah, it’s funny as hell, being so high strung and panicky. I choose to be this way because it is so dignified and fun.

So wifi fixed, embarrassed, blah blah.

Got my call from R last night and I had had a very very bad physical and mental health day and my kid was bringing her shrieking brats around and mouthing me…and here I am thinking I am free of the albatross of having to help him and shit…And he says he has a money making proposition for me. He has a whole shelf of extra TV parts he wants me to research, label, photograph and sell on ebay. AND he’s willing to split 60-40, in my favor.

If I weren’t mid depressive anxiety meltdown, if I were thinking logically…That would sound good.

As I am now…it’s more stress than I can take.

But I said I would give it a shot because hey, new muffler on the car would be pretty sweet…Of course by the time I can focus enough to label 80 different parts for their part number and model numbers and the price he wants to charge, plus paying nothing for shipping…That’s gonna be a gold plated muffler in terms of psychological costs. I should have just said no. But he asked me to do this same thing four years ago and I failed him then, and I just feel like…I owe him this much. And I told him it could be weeks or months for me to get it done. And now that he’s making better money, why should it matter if it takes me awhile? He, and others, seem to think the lure of money cures mental illness and makes you super focused and enthusiastic but it really doesn’t.

So later I am going in to download a firmware TV update for him to SD card because he apparently doesn’t own one and he can’t find the card reader on the laptop I had first so I know it has one, damn it. No way you can wire up shit the way he does but not be able to find a card reader.

Then again, I couldn’t find a wifi touch button so…

I miss that 8 day stretch back in March when I was doing so well and thought I was all better. Knowing that feeling exists only to end up back here…Demoralizing.

2 Responses to “Meltdown Much?”

  1. I can’t very well shout it from the rooftops because of not having a ladder high enough, plus my terror of heights, but

    I love you, you ranty, panicky, beautiful lady!!!

    If it weren’t for rants, sometimes I’d worry more about you. If you rant, I know you’re fighting the universe fucker, that rat-bastard.

    I just wish I could hug you and keep telling you how strong you are, how beautiful you are, and how proud I am that you’re my friend.

    Thank you.

  2. Love you Morgue! Hang in there and stay safe. ❤

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