Shake And Break

Tuesday through Friday were a total wash, write off days. The ones where you’re so far under the depressive abyss you function minimally even if you want more than anything to ‘snap out of it’. Didn’t happen, desire to do so be damned. Often, this is the price I pay for uber functional days like Monday. I kicked ass that day, accomplished a ton and then…four days of nothing but shambling like a zombie. Last night was telling as I allowed my kid to sleep with me. Always a mistake because even in a full size bed she sleeps with one knee out and no matter which way I turned, it was in my gut or my back. So I didn’t sleep well, was up a couple of times, and that bummed me out because I wanted to get up and go to a few yard sales, see if it picked up my spirits. Not getting decent sleep is a big intention killer for me. I don’t need a lot, just a few hours not popping up like a demented jack in the box.

To my chagrin, I woke when it was light outside…and it wasn’t even 6 a.m. So I snoozed until 7:30 then bladder and child dictated I get out of bed. I wasn’t feeling the ‘let’s get going’ vibe. It was all I could do to FORCE myself into a shower after 4 days and I only did that because my scalp was so itchy and my hair so nasty, I couldn’t handle it anymore. Then came the horror of choosing clothes and actually getting my kid out the door.

First yard sale…BAM. Found a Vellux blanket, perfect condition, one dollar. And that sent my mood into the stratosphere because I have been trying to find a Vellux for years, they are so soft and warm…And ONE DOLLAR? Hells, yea! So that lifted my mood and we went to several more but my good friend (and by that, I mean, mortal enemy) anxiety peeked in and screamed BOO. All the roadwork around town had me convinced I had a flat tire and panxiety started chewing on me because I can’t change a flat and I’m not sure I even have a spare and…and…and… Ya know, anxiety making me its bitch, the usual.

Kept going, though. Even stopped by the shop to see R. The new job laid him off after 5 weeks of work, he is livid because the shop can’t bring in enough money to feed my cats some months, he needs a ‘real job’. I feel for him, I really do. For all of my bitching and moaning, I realize…he was putting me in a situation that stressed me out with all the ‘find this part and find that part’. He’s kind of a twonk at times, but most of my ranting…is on me. Because I can’t handle being put under pressure and having expectations put on me. I have the legit condition to explain it, too, it’s not selective anxiety, but nonetheless…I own it. And I do feel empathy for him. Here he thought he has a great new job, perhaps paying less than he wants, but he was working his ass off for them and one day they say, layoffs are coming, the next, the boss says no, we have more work for you, then that guy gets sick and the next guy waits until end of shift Friday to tell him he’s laid off for a week or two…Guess even the so called beautiful people get shanked on occasion.

So…we finished yard sales, then we went to get household supplies, came home, and now the spawn is running with her posse. I had to take her bike away from her. She wasn’t focusing yesterday and ran into a car bumper and fell into some grass. Grateful she wasn’t hurt but she should never ever have been close to a car on her bicycle and she knows that. If she won’t listen to me and obey the bicycle rules presented to her…I can’t trust her not to hurt herself. And having encountered bicycling children myself who pay no attention and ride right toward my moving car…I can’t fathom the guilt of a driver who hit a kid on a bike even if it was the kid’s fault. Spook doesn’t seem to care as long as she gets to play. I’d like to call her resilient but she just has no sense of conscience.

Though at the store I spent fifty bucks (food, cat supplies, cleaning stuff) and the cashier said something about “your mom had to work three hours to spend fifteen minutes at the store.” And of course, the instant shame of being on disability comes, but I also know I help at the shop so it’s not like I’m sitting home on X Box and smoking weed. Might as well be. My kid basically yelled, “My mom doesn’t work, she doesn’t have a job.” I was livid, especially because I’ve heard this manager/cashier go off about people on disability/food stamps/even told me once I was too lenient on my kid. Well, I wasn’t today, no meant no, and for that…my kid made me feel half an inch tall, like everything is handed to me and I pay nothing, it costs me nothing.

I told her to get in the car and said not a word for ten minutes. To her credit, she didn’t say a word until I told her she could speak. Maybe it’s more my own shame for not working than it was a 7 year old’s big mouth but she needs to learn not to mouth, to show some respect, and not every aspect of our lives have to be discussed with random people in public.

Anyway…that’s been my day so far. The joy of yard sales replaced with the panxiety of a brain telling me the car has a flat. The public humiliation at the hands of my own child.

I’m not down the rabbit hole, though. Only been 3 days on Cymbalta but today I took it first thing rather than take all meds at once. I’ve moved the lithium to bedtime in case it makes me sleepy and I always eat supper so I shouldn’t get nausea. The Wellbutrin and Lamictal I can work in around that.

But hey, I got up, got out, and accomplished stuff. It’s an improvement after four days of inertia and wanting to cease to exist. Then again, even a toothache is better than that.

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6 Responses to “Shake And Break”

  1. You are an awesome, inspirational, kickass, beautiful warrior woman.
    ❤ DM

    • I thought I was Wonderwoman when I was 5 and jumped off the roof of my dad’s truck in my Underoos. Shame those things don’t make self esteem stick 😉

      On Sat, Jun 3, 2017 at 9:28 PM, Take a Ride on My Mood Swing wrote:

      >

      • I always wanted to be a superhero, but I wanted to pick my powers. Time travel/control, teleportation, healing, mind reading, super strength, speed, and inexhaustible cash. And juggling I guess, because why not? But I don’t want a big M on my purplesuit. “Mumpleman?” Nah. I need a better name. 😀

        I never really liked the sensation of flight, so teleportation. Which is probably worse than flight. See, that’s proof I already have the power of super cynicism.

        Did you fly when you jumped off the truck? What a cute image. But in my mind, you look better in your super-suit now.

      • Sarcasm is my super power…Call me…Snarkasma.

      • Snarkasma is sexy as hell. Call me…

        when dinner’s ready.
        when there’s whiskey.
        when … nevermind.

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