Playing The Slots

Update to our story.

When we moved, I had to leave behind a previous Mother’s Day Gift dad and stepmonster got me from Spook. All I wanted for our new home was another rose bush-yellow. And yesterday they bought it and planted it for me. I named it Persophone, daughter of the goddess of Harvest, in hopes she will grow as tall as my old rose bush. It reached 7 feet tall and 5 feet wide and I called it Monster. Seems silly to wave gardening pompoms but I killed a cactus once, so Monster was one of my pride and joys. Persephone is my new hope.

Slots. Mother’s Day. I have sinus drainage drowning me, cramps, and pre-splat is heading downward fast. I am cooking chicken noodles as a gift for my mom (someone else bought the stuff for it cos I chose to pay bills but everyone wanted my noodles so they bought the stuff). My kid is at church for another 30 minutes so I have a moment of peace. If you discount the fact the cats are going bonkers and keep jumping up and clawing me cos they’re running round like ferals. Best I can guess is all the changes in the weather has them acting like squirrels on meth and coke.

Mood disorders are like playing slots. Only my wonky chemicals are the house and odds are always in favor of the house. I keep pulling up losers. Two weeks ago when I proposed a mother’s day dinner for our mom, I just wanted to do something nice. Then all the other stuff happened (losing income is a huge thing when expenses have tripled, so yes, it affects mental state negatively) and now…fuck nice. What about me? I’m a mom, and today, crampy drain-y moody mom just wants Fort Blankie, minus blankets, cos well, it’s warmed up. I will keep my word, though, cos in spite of our dysfunctional family dynamic, I love my mom and my daughter loves her grandma and aunt. I will ignore the fact that my sister’s interloping non family friends will be there. I try to be civilized and even like them, but the fact they invite themselves to EVERY family event we have annoys the hell out of me. If I wanted to hang out with a bunch of stoners, I’d become one and surround myself with the same kind.

But that could be hormones and mood talking. IDK.

I just know I pulled the arm on the slot machine and today’s a bust. Faking it gets so old. And the game of slots makes it impossible to make plans because as I said, two weeks ago I was okay with this thing. Then I found out the interlopers invited themselves, I lost income, PMDD hit, hypomania crashed downward…I do everything I can in an effort to keep my spirits up and splat still happens.

I’ve had a preview of my summer since the weather warmed up the last couple of weeks. Every day with a kid who is bored within five minutes of every activity, whiney, mouthy, and on the rare occasion I feel generous and offer to watch her little friend while his parents run errands ‘for an hour’…it’s gonna be two, three, four hours, and after hour one, they start bickering and my nerves are going to fray and split and break. But I guess it’s better than three months of six trailer park kids in my yard, eating our food, and causing trouble and destruction. Maybe my coping mechanisms will improve as time passes. It’s been a tough year, makes sense I am frazzled easily.

I do not want to go today.

I will go and I will pretend I want to be there and I will fake nice and cheerful.

Or I will try. When dad showed up yesterday with the rose bush, he growled, “What the hell are you scowling at us for?” And honestly, I had NO idea I was scowling. Anxiety shows on your face whether you intend it to or not, and I guess I wear mine unconsciously and very visibly. I wasn’t pissed off. And I don’t spend time in front of the mirror gauging my expressions then consciously trying to make them more pleasant for others.

I guess this inadvertent scowling may be why people find me unapproachable or unpleasant. I try to be friendly and most of the time, even when faking it, I pull it off. But if I stop trying to fake it at all times..well, scowl happens and I get my case jumped. Mood slots is exhausting to play 365 days a year. I hate gambling. The house is always gonna win, even if I manage to cash in on a few coins occasionally.

Anyway…Happy Mother’s Day to all it applies to, even petmoms. As well as single dads who are doing the job of both parents. It ain’t an easy gig being mom and dad both.

Read our story.

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