Why Do I…

let stuff get to me so much? Texting my sister again and she informed me that 5 of her friends’ kids who were near mine ended up with lice, then she started in on how her friend M said me using the mayo treatment is all wrong..And I tried to defend my right to make my own choices as a parent and pointed out how hard it is to keep up with the lice because my kid has scalp psoriasis and is always digging at her head…Now my sister’s gone silent after getting pissy and..

It’s pretty much made my anxiety shoot upward and my mood to go downward. Which after having to hit the food pantry cos we’re so broke and paypal won’t work cos I’m using a flipphone cos smart phones COST FUCKING MONEY I DON’T HAVE THUS I HAVE NO APP…then my new med causing a grueling stomach pain amongst other nastiness…I didn’t think I could feel much shittier. Enter family. One minute we’re texting about the awesome show Blood Drive and the next I feel under attack cos my kid created a lice epidemic and obviously it’s my fault for not being more vigilant, for not having the money to pour chemicals on my kid’s head, for trying to defend my choices and my right, as a parent, to make them, in spite of what her friends say.

Now I view my kid as a ticking time bomb just waiting for more lice and like I have to keep her locked away and why my sister would lay this nasty guilt trip on me all the while playing miss innocent…Yeah, my kid had lice, other kids got it, but the life cycle of nits,one of the other kids could have had it for up to 14 days before nits hatched so it could have been them, too. But no, it’s always me and my kid and I am just..I don’t do confrontation, it creates panic which makes me act like an imbecile. And here I am 44 years old and being made to feel about 12 and irresponsible because I didn’t know my kid had head lice AGAIN…And I do feel stupid and immature for getting so bent, it is what it is.

I think my kid telling my about her nightmare that I started spanking her and wouldn’t stop cos my meds quit working and grandma suggested I do that sort of thing..I think it’s shattered what little faith or trust I had in my entire family. But that’s ok, cos Spook informed me my mother called me a bitch and my mom will deny it and maybe my kid is lying but isn’t that the point…they adore her but she’s quick to turn on everyone to save her own ass including them. She may be young and cute but I am SICK TO THE EYEBALLS OF EVERY SINGLE DAMN PERSON GIVING HER A FREE PASS TO ACT LIKE A JERK. The only person who gives any perspective is R, which is fucking sad. But yeah, he raised 3 and he says her behavior is borderline psychopathic the way my family has taught her to manipulate and mistreat me.

Why do I let it get to me? I need to grow up, right? Funny,I was okay til…Okay, I felt cornered as a bad mother over starting the lice plague so maybe I just don’t like the truth and I am lashing out to avoid responsibility…Bloody hell, that’s crap. Maybe I don’t like having ten different people chime in on my parenting, but who the hell does.

To add to my stress the nurse practitioner’s office is on me about getting the blood work done again and for fuck’s sake, I TOLD the woman I stopped taking the lithium cos of the weight gain and it making me sick but because she didn’t listen I have to start taking it again to get a blood draw and get her off my dick. I miss the shrink, he got my hate of hospitals and rarely required bloodwork. Maybe it’s safety and smart but when a patient says I went off of that cos of the side effects and you don’t listen…I don’t need this shit.

Oh, well. I had a couple of not horrid days while my kid was grounded for defying me six times in a single day. When she finally quit blaming everyone else and owned her mistakes, I ungrounded her. Now I just cringe cos every friend who comes near is a lice time bomb, too. My problem is other people stress me out. And that makes me an asshole, fine. But it’s like my former thick skin has thinned out to saran wrap.

I doubt it’s gonna get better today. When the nurse’s office called I mentioned the stomach pain since starting Trintellix and they will call back and probably say give it more time or that side effect isn’t listed so it’s something else you’re doing…Round and round my brain goes and misery is at every turn.

Why do I even care?? I didn’t used to. Maybe mood stabilizers ruined me by giving me the conscience and boundaries mania obliterated. The highs weren’t ass shitty as constantly feeling guilty and shitty.

But then it’s likely all just me and sometimes I just want to go to sleep and not wake up.

5 more weeks. I just gotta make it that long, school will start, I won’t have to be on duty 24-7 as entertainment director and resident bad guy, she will be occupied..Just gotta hold out, a lot of sanity will return with the anxiety going down. Til them here I am dangling off the edge of a cliff by a pick axe, hoping the side of the cliff doesn’t give way.

Why do I even fucking care??????

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6 Responses to “Why Do I…”

  1. Um, no. if your writing is actual fact, your sister and your family are almost completely worthless and ignorant ass holes, and nobody has any respect for you or your boundaries as a human being and as a parent, and they need to. Come to the bunker. I have mayonnaise. In fact, I know how to make that from scratch. I also have a bunker, I can defend your boundaries almost as well as Doctor Who defends the Earth. (I mean, when was the last time you saw a real live Dalek or Cyberman? He’s obviously doing a hell of a good job. Unless The Silence are back, I don’t remember if they are. I hated the Weeping Angels.)

    You’ll have to both win over the dog though, he’s got a rage-y thing about strangers, until strangers throw pepperoni slices just past him and he has to go run get that a few times, then, you’re golden. Don’t ring the doorbell though, he’ll take a long time to forgive that faux pas. Just come in and throw pepperoni. Or chicken. Or steak. Or jerky, or milk-bones, or …you get the idea, he likes food. Or a squeaky toy after you squeak it, although I haven’t actually had anyone try that last one.

    If you wave a bottle of bourbon whiskey or vodka, in front of the owner, and then hand it over, you’ll win him, too. Or wine and a steak, or fried chicken and waffles and maple syrup, or coffee, or …you get the idea.

    • If my writing is actual fact? Comical. No one would admit this shit if it weren’t sad fact.

      On Tue, Jul 11, 2017 at 6:38 PM, Take a Ride on My Mood Swing wrote:

      >

      • I mean, I could be a 30 year old single lady writer making all this shit up as a character profile, right? But alas, not. Middle aged, married man, whitening-bearded Deon.

        Come to the bunker,

      • My fave doctor ever.

        On Tue, Jul 11, 2017 at 7:07 PM, Take a Ride on My Mood Swing wrote:

        >

      • Well, I have a nostalgic attachment to Tom Baker because he was my first… 😛 But I adore Peter Capaldi (in a different role, first, though) and Tenant brought me back to the Doctor when my daughter found it on Netflix and liked it on her own. Was she ever shocked/ disappointed/ regenerated/ exterminated/ annihilated/ upgraded/ when she found out I liked the show long ago!

  2. Fact: Lice are more chemical resistant and the OTC shit does little good anymore. (My cousin required a prescription for her daughter after her THIRD infestation.) FACT: Mayo treatment works. My coworker had to do her THREE girls at the same time. All have medium length, thick curly hair. FACT: Monkey and NSLM both had lice and I used coconut oil and essential oils, along with a homemade spray for furniture. So far, so good. FACT: People (families) are assholes and hypocrites are the worst. FACT: You are a damn good mom. FACT: Medication and side effects are not science and have no control group, and we humans have no standard baseline in which to base evidentiary speculations on what is or is not a valid side effect. Fuckallthat. FACT: Wednesday would punish Spook for behavior (or lack there of) and tell your family to go fuck themselves because YOU’RE A DAMN GOOD MAMA BEAR DOING THE WORK OF 2.

    I’ll bring the booze for the Bunker President and the pupperoni for the First Dog. You bring your facts, and then we can all shoot those facts at hypocrites and watch em dance and deny bunker entry based on lack of facts.

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