In Need Of A Good Rant

I managed to rally after my mini meltdown and feeling like a cornered animal Sunday. Rather than allow myself to be undermined by family and the church on matters concerning my child, I nutted up and flat out told stepmonster that she was NOT to take that gift to the donor. I even ignored her heavy handed pushing that “I’ll take her to meet him and be the go between.” NO. Spook is MY family and we will deal with it as a family. I sat Spook down and we discussed it and as I predicted, she changed her mind and told me she doesn’t want to see her dad right now and that the church guilt tripped her when she said she doesn’t see her dad and wanted to opt out of the activity. A church bullying an 8 year old, really fucking classy. But to be fair, I told Spook we can leave the option open and if she does decide she wants to see her so called father, then we will try to make that happen (assuming he’d be amenable and after 7 years of no contact, his interest in his child, or lack thereof, is pretty apparent. He hates me more than he loves her, I swear, what other reason is there not to see your kid except to avoid the ex?)

I was proud of myself for acting like a grown up and making it about Spook’s feelings as opposed to my own. But really, my lack of enthusiasm toward her seeing him is less about me and more about how his patterns of behavior and loss of interest in all 3 of his kids would be potentially damaging to my child. I am her protector and while I have to consider her wishes, I am never not gonna want to spare her pain, even the potential of it. Hey, if anyone is gonna piss her off, it’s gonna be me. I earned that privilege.

Father’s Day was further weirded out and tainted by a very bizarre conversation with my father on the phone. I called to wish him happy blah blah day…and somehow he got on the topic of prostitution and started going on about “All men pay for pussy, one way or another.” I told him he was a pig so he put stepmonster on the line and she started repeating the same thing, boasting that he’s paying for her with all their vehicles and joint checking account. I was like, so you’re basically saying all women are legal prosititutes… Classy. And there was no need for this detour in conversation, it was just bizarre. Maybe dad can claim old age, but she’s younger than me so she’s obviously just…disturbed.

Their spawn, my 23-but-mentally-ten half brother is getting on my nerves, always showing up unannounced to cuddle and hang out with my kid. Yeah, it’s his niece and they adore each other but I still think a 23 year old man hanging with a 7 year old is weird. And I don’t like my safe space constantly invaded, against my wishes. I have tried telling him, and them, that the constant unannounced visits are not wanted (bad bad for anxiety issues) but to no avail. But I know dad and stepmonster and if I go at it too strenuously, it will create some drama where they tell me to kiss their ass-they literally say this to people all the time, and not bantering-and of course, then the barter lawn mowing for meals will go away and yeah, it’s a thing for me, cos I am terrified of power mowers. I will tackle that fear another time, this isn’t the time.

Furthering the stress is stepmonster obnoxiously saying she’s ‘adopted’ my kid and Spook is there more than she’s home with me. Which is bullshit, yeah, she goes there, but rarely for more than a couple of hours and almost ALWAYS because my brother just shows up and says, “I’m kidnapping her.” The other day she was having fun playing in the pool when he showed up and chose not to go with him…and he kept texting me, asking, “You want me to take her off your hands?” NO. She’s my kid, she belongs at home. I do need breaks but if it’s going to lead to stepmonster having some delusion that Spook is her kid and doesn’t love me because she’s going to their house (they have dogs she likes to play with)…I may have to go scorched earth and risk the drama to put her in her damned place. Just because they’ve helped us out with furniture and such doesn’t give them the right to trample me with my child.

Further drama from the maternal faction. Mom is being very salty about dad and them seeing Spook so often when they don’t get to see her much now due to the distance. Well, I sure as hell don’t encourage her to spend massive time with them. Personally, other than calls or them darkening my doorstep against my will, I have little to do with them-or anyone else. My anxiety balance is tenuous and social situations trigger panic so of course, I am isolating. The Cymbalta definitely got me out of the rabbit hole of depression but it is by no means making me become some social butterfly.

I am just so sick of all the drama. And I knew it was going to be this way. Always in the middle since our parents split up. I’m the only one of 3 kids who doesn’t live with one parent or the other, and I like it that way even if it makes me a black sheep. I have to do what feels right for me and living on my own has always been better for my mental health. I like the independence. If I want to run my computers and TV 24-7, I pay the bill, so I don’t have to endure lectures about wasting power. (Yet turn around and give my kid the lecture, oh,what a vicious cycle.)

My brother has been here every day for a week and even Spook said she’d like a break from him. I reluctantly agreed to a movie night tonight with him, he’s totally lusting after our smart TV that streams Vudu movies. (Best $100 I ever spent, I think sometimes, that TV is too cool. I barely use it but it keeps the spawn occupied.)

Hopefully I will get a break from him and them as Spook is having a sleepover at my mom’s this weekend. I need some peace sans people yapping at me. I need to do housework, do some organizing…and ya know, by then, I will be so exhausted physically and mentally I probably won’t accomplish much of anything. But the drama and tension are giving me stress stomach aches so maybe doing very little but recovering is a good thing. IDK, we’ll see.

Today I am in a very low place. Earlier after the barrage of political news (it’s like a car crash, you don’t wanna look but you can’t help yourself) I just started having these dark dark thoughts that suicide is about the only way out of…well, the current state of things in the U.S. There’s so much evil and corruption and plain wrong things happening and I sign petitions but I’m in no position to help financially and I am too isolated geographically to become an activist. So it just festers and claws away at my sanity and will to live because face it, we’re fucked if things continue as they are now. I don’t think there’s a medication on earth to combat all the nastiness going on. It makes me sad, angry, outraged and it makes me feel helpless, something I am not okay with. The mentally health thing to do would be avoid news like the plague and yet that is part of the problem. Everyone is so disillusioned they’re becoming numb, looking away, and it just…Maybe I can’t really change anything but I can at least know I stood up for my beliefs against the evildoers.

Whooo…I needed to vent. Now the mental poison has been purged and I am gonna try to pep talk myself into enjoying movie night for the sake of my kid. But I don’t think it will go well. My brother wants to watch a comedy (he said Adam Sandler and that is a hell to the no for me) and I’m not feeling comical unless it’s a parody movie. I will bite my tongue best I can and endure it and I can always flee the room and take sanctuary in my bedroom crypt. At least the hormones are leveling out and some of that misery is gone. I was a powderkeg there for awhile, surprised I didn’t burn some bridges by going on a tirade.

On a plus side…the mood swings seem to be evening out. I spend most of my time not high nor low, just…well, here. I don’t see much hope on the horizon but then, I’m not plotting my own demise, either. Except for today’s little crash and honestly, if you have a heart and a conscience and read the news of what’s going on out there and it doesn’t make you feel sad…That’s plain disturbing even to someone as disturbed as me.


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