Grappling

I guess grappling is the best way to describe my current state. Four of our 5 kittens died (I practically begged R for the money to get some medicine but he said it had to wait til his payday three days later, so of course, they died and I am pissy as fuck with him). Losing Adelitas was grueling. I just lost Graves last month. It starts to feel like anything I love and get attached to dies. Except that’s not true, Godsmack is still alive. I managed to save him and he seems to be thriving. Still…dead kittens are a horrible thing to have to contend with first thing in the morning and first thing when returning from an anxiety riddled day in the petri dish.

I had one survivor. Cold as ice, mother rejected it, refusing to eat anything. I kept warming towels in the dryer, bottle feeding it powdered milk, bolding it against my bare skin for body heat…And the little thing is still fighting. Still refusing food even though I got the wet stuff with gravy, but this lil black kitten seems to want to live. Cold as it was, I figured for sure it was going to die. It still may. But the fact it survived the night (tucked under the neck of my shirt, lucky I sleep lightly and didn’t crush it) and was still raising hell this morning…I have hope. And if it lives, its name will be Hellraiser. HR, for the kid friendly version, and also, a nod to the departed character from The Flash.

Yesterday I protested doing fuck all at the shop. Dead kittens, especially ones who might have been saved for $14 measly bucks, do not motivate me to do kind deeds for someone who shunned me when I had need of kindness. Rather than throw a tantrum or curse R out, I just ignored anything asked of me and did nothing. And felt no guilt, either. I mean, if he can live with essentially not lifting a finger to help save my kittens, then I can live with pissing him off as a form of protest. And ya know, normally when I do this sort of stupid rebellious shit and get called out for it, I feel a little guilty…Not this time. He reprimanded me and I just shrugged and said the dead TVs will still be there to tear apart tomorrow like me kittens will still be dead tomorrow. And when he failed to even offer up a faked platitude, I called him on it and he said, well, I didn’t know how to respond. Um…No one truly knows how to respond to grief. But the social standard, for those of us with an emotional IQ over 60, is to express “I’m sorry to hear that” or “That’s so sad, sorry for your loss.” For pet lovers, this is even more true. Just making even an effort rather than ignoring it counts for something. For such an intellectually gifted man, his emotional EQ rivals that of my 8 year old.

Speaking of whom…she attacked me again yesterday. Kicked me and threw a book at my face all because I dared to tell her she had to wear a shirt with long sleeves for church since the temps are dropping. It set her off. She was growling and snarling (I have audio recording to demonstrated to the social worker that I am not doing anything remotely wrong to instigate these attaks) and I told her to go to her room to calm down and she did the unthinkable…She grabbed for one of the cats and tried to throw it. That was my line in the sand. Anyone, child or adult, who harms an animal, goes on my shit list. That’s where I stop being a scared wussy and go into mama bear (cat) protective mode. I grounded her an extra day and told her no slushies or sweets until she can go 2 days without having a fit and hitting me.

It’s so weird because prior to this summer, things had been improving. Now she’s turning feral again and I have to wonder if it’s my fault for letting her spend so much time with her feral little friends. The one who catches the church van at our house wasn’t wearing a sweater even in the cold last night, so I guess my kid thinks I’m gonna be like that girl’s mom. Nope. You can take off a sweater of you get too warm, but if you don’t have one and get cold, you can’t pull warmth out of thin air. I don’t find it an unreasonable request.

When they dropped the girl off last night, it was our house, so I walked the kid home. And we had 3 cop cars in the trailer park at two different homes and people were having their domestic spats and Spook was all curious but I was just like, let’s go before they somehow drag us into it. And I wonder what seeing shit like this does to her psyche, but then, how realistic is it even in nice neighborhoods with two parent families to expect there to never be any ugliness. Domestic disputes happen everywhere, to everyone, and I guess, in our trailerhood, they just happen a lot more often and more loudly. I’m just thankful it is all down the street and around the corner from us. I don’t do drama, it requires to much xanax to cope with.

Today I have…forced myself into a shower, fetched the canned food and set up Hellraiser in a pet taxi with warmed bedding, run some errands to pay R’s bills (yet he couldn’t help save my kittens, ffs) and I’ve been at the shop little over an hour and already stripped one TV down to the frame. That took me 36 minutes and that was even with a smoke break. Some of them come apart easily and some of them take forever,cut my hands up, and make my brain hurt trying to figure it out. Destroying things is easy and sometimes fun, but when you have to be careful to yank the working parts out without damaging them, it gets tricky.

Especially for my current brain state. It freaked me out the other day when I was watching this show and they were giving a polygraph exam to this person, and one of the control questions was what is 34 minus 19. And omg, my brain struggled round and round with it, just like it blanked out. I mean, jesus, first grade subtraction and it’s like my brain has a big swiss cheese hole in it. That was when it hit me how altered I have become. And ya know, looking at those numbers even now, it’s a big of a jumble in my brain to come up with the answer. Nice to know I’m so nuts I couldn’t even pass a control question on a polygraph test. Excellent, Smithers.

I give it a few more weeks, grappling, trying to keep up with R’s demands cos God knows I need a different car as this current one is falling to bits..but mental breakdowns aren’t really elective, never have been for me. I break my back trying to be what is demanded of me and I stay afloat until…I go under. And instead of understanding and empathy, I am surrounded by resentful people thinking I am lazy and weak. They are the reason I end up breaking down. Because they refuse to let me off the carousel when I’m saying, let me off, I’m gonna hurl..No, they just speed up the carousel ride and eventually, I fall off, throwing up and oozing emotional blood and psychological tears in torrents. (You’re welcome for that mental image.)

I guess ultimately, though, it’s my fault for having the breakdowns. I should be strong enough by now to stand up for myself and say enough, without fear of it turning into a bridge burning situation. Gotta give me points for at least caring enough to try to meet the world’s demands of me, though.

On second thought, don’t give me any points. I might not be able to do the math and could construe it as a bad thing.

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4 Responses to “Grappling”

  1. I am so sorry about the kittens. That’s just so awful, but I hope Hellraiser continues to hold on.

    I am now freaking out because 34 minus 19 sounds awfully difficult and I can’t do it either.

  2. I agree with Leslie. I am sorry about your kittens and I haven’t the faintest idea what 34 – 19 is.

  3. Crazy children; stress outs, aggression, meltdown and emotional insensitivity…
    All symptoms to describe my family and myself!!!
    Only difference, I’m a risk to myself not others

    Boss: You don’t look well?

    Lie: I’m fine, getting over something
    Truth: I want to decorate my bathroom red and say “Fuck you judgemental bitches” on dating sites

    Guess which I go for?!

  4. Thinking of you and the kitteh. He sounds like a strong one!

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