My Name Is Mud

(Let us not mention the Primus song of the same name, such an awful awful band, like worse-than-Backstreet-Boys awful.)

This is not a post about low self esteem or self loathing.

Rather, it is a post about the weight of depression and how it impacts your motivation contrary to your own desires and choices. Whe factoring in the ninja like swiftness and surprise of anxiety attacks and mood dips minus triggers…

It is a lot like when your feet get trapped in thick, wet mud and it makes that suction sound when you lift a foot, then you pry the other one up, only to find every place you need to step to get to your destination is a giant mud hole…That sixty second jaunt on dry ground becomes a five minute chore of frustration, exhaustion, and well, it pisses you off cos now your shoes (and sometimes socks) are all messy, maybe your shoes leak so your feet are also damp.

THAT.

That’s how depression and anxiety of the ninja variety feel.

So many things I want to get done, need to get done, and yet after last week’s hypomanic burst and sense of accomplishments…I am back down to hormonal drudgery with those mental health ninjas sneaking up on me. I manage to pull one foot out of the mud, only to realize it sucked off my shoe and I lost my balance and now my foot is planted in the mud again in my sock.

The ultimate insult to injury is to try so hard over and over and rarely succeed. And the body blow is that everyone around you discounts your minor victories, those small successes you cling to, because they want to see mega success. They can do it, so can you, move your ass!

I try to set small goals each day. Yesterday the goal was to take a bath (nailed it!), run an errand, and fill ice cube trays. Today’s goal was to binge watch The Arrangement, make sure my kid was homeworked and fed, and well…not let my brother bully me into letting him use the net when all I wanted was a quiet evening.

I am pleased to say that the spineless jellyfish syndrome I’ve been experiencing when it comes to dealing with dad’s faction of the family hasn’t made a miraculous turn around, but I HAVE started speaking up, drawing boundaries, and reminding myself-and him- that I am footing the bills here, not them, so if I simply don’t want someone here, I can’t be bullied into it. And it’s a small thing, but I am soo proud of myself for locating at least a portion of my spine, which means that part of me isn’t dead and buried. I 3 weeks on Cymbalta has brought a positive change like that, what could be possible with a dose increase and more time on it? It gives me hope.

But yeah, I’ve been bitching for days about the housework that needs done and EVERY day I go face it down and tell myself I am going to get this done…but both feet are suction cupped in the depressive inertia mud so I just wave the white flag and say ‘maybe later’. Then ‘maybe tomorrow.”

In another positive mental state change, I used to apologize for days when I post multiple times because ‘flood posting’ annoys people into shunning your blog. I’m not sorry for writing when I am able to write. This is my therapy, read it, don’t. The stuff I am truly proud of never gets recognized anyway so back to writing for myself with no public. Cos writing for the public with no sense of self simply isn’t gonna happen for me.

—-
And now (don’t get your panties in a bunch, PETA, it’s a metaphor) to beat the dead horse with the awful ‘f’ word…For those who can’t be bothered to even read our story on an external site…Allow me to copy and paste the transparent income versus expenses cost analysis I posted on that site to show how dare I have the gall to ask strangers for money.

Income $812

Rent $400 ($325 due on deposit, rent is current)
Gas and Electric $225 (varies from season, but averaged)
Water and Sewer $75
Trash $20 ($130 just to start service)
Car Insurance $47
That brings the total to $767- without internet, phone, household supplies, cat food, gas.

Due dates have all changed, which brings about late fees. My kid has no summer clothes. The cats need flea treatments. And the security deposit thing is a constant worry because senile landlord can decide to forget the agreement he made to let me make periodic payments when able thus have us evicted.

The move was not by choice. I would never have uprooted us without the appropriate savings to cover everything. We found ourselves in an impossible situation and this is where we are. I am looking for ways to earn side income, hoping the income we lost is quickly restored, but until then…Yeah, we could use a few acts of kindness. And frankly, someone willing to let the payments be made directly to landlord/utilities as opposed to being handed cash indicates how sincere I am being.

Even a share shows you care so ponder that much.

Thank you. I am now going to wait for melatonin to kick in. I don’t mind it when the sleep ninjas visit. Just wish they’d keep me asleep more than 3 hours at a time. Must be a ninja union thing, can’t grant too much mercy or something without losing medical benefits.

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