Unsafe

It’s very difficult to explain-in a manner in which non bipolar people can understand- when I get to feeling ‘unsafe’. It isn’t delusion, it isn’t paranoia. I don’t think some masked murderer is lurking in the shadows to kill me. I don’t think someone is out to poison my soda or that the cats have donned leather jackets and switchblades in an effort to murder me gangsta style.

It’s more this feeling of emotional nudity, this vulnerability, where if I leave my safe bubble, I am on display, painted with targets, and at risk for…emotional ahhilation? Complete mental break? Yesterday I was forced out of my cocoon and every moment I could think of nothing more than wanting to get back home to safety, to the comforting embrace of binge watching Dexter. I made efforts to remain off the radar and that failed so I ended up running errands for my stepmom which entailed a trip to Hellmart-my nemesis. Then Aldi, which the parking lot alone gives me panic attacks, there’s just too many cars and people moving in too many different directions and I can’t keep my head on enough of a swivel and my attention span locked down. It’s terrifying. And humiliating because for fuck’s sake, I am a bad ass who alienates men by being too harsh for their psyches yet I’m also some shrinking violet freaked out to leave my own home and carry out basic errands?

Well, depression and anxiety are definitely contradictions and I have them in spades.

Today I need to clean the biohazard house. But I can’t stand to look at it so I remain ensconced in my safe bedroom crypt, lost in Dexter’s world, where even the monster has more of a conscience than the creature I chose as my child’s father…Yeah still no movement on that one, the lawyer is useless, the donor strives to be useless, and the court system totally screws over an innocent 9 year old girl who they’re supposed to protect.

When I get that kind of fury bubbling inside me, those are the moments I connect most to shows like Dexter. Is it so bad to rid the world of scum sucking ass trashers who escape the system time after time?Morally and legally, my tether on reality remains strong. Of course, playing judge, jury, and executioner is wrong. But if it brings me a modicum of comfort and it’s just fictional…I’d call it therapeutic AF.

We got a donation to our fundraiser which completely surprised but delighted me because it was coming down to keeping my car insurance active (which the law requires) or keeping the water turned on…This wonderful generous person really made a difference in a positive way for Spook and I. And we’re not out of the woods what with holidays and winter heating bills and hey, I can’t even qualify to work as a gas station cos of my numerical dyslexia cos I failed the basic math test with inverted numbers…So, yeah. If you’re feeling kindness in your heart and generous…consider us a worthy cause. The elections are over but hey, you can still elect to help us. Gift card, social media share, or just ask for a list of things we need to tide us over.

I can’t seem to get going today. I am feeling unsafe ‘deer in the headlights’ right now and I can’t shake it off. I am trying. I am trying to have gratitude for what we do have, I am trying to have wisdom to accept what I can’t change, yada yada…Trying so hard. Depression is a cold hearted bitch, though.Zero fucks given how hard you’re trying or how you fantasize only about sleep or simply never waking up so you don’t have to feel depressed and anxious and unsafe anymore…

Also looming overhead is my car has to go into the shop Friday for a belt replacement and oil change so I have no idea how long I will be without a car. Plus side, my stepmonster offered to schedule it and pay for it because she knows I get $800 a mont for rent, power, gas, water, food-there isnt a spare penny to be found so it’s not like I don’t want to handle my own auto maintenance but….not like the donor left me much choice. I’m already sweating bullets cos Spook is down to 3 pairs of pants that still fit her so I have to keep doing laundry to rotate them for her and every day she is asking for something new that I can’t get for her and….

Really, fictional serial killers makes me feel less shitty than knowing how much I am letting down my kid here. I wonder if the donor feels any guilt.What a joke. I guess that’s why he was so amused by my what he called ‘Jewish guilt” where I flogged myself even for cutting someone off in traffic. I truly felt bad and he just laughed at me, said I was going overboard. Yes, well, having a conscience is a terrible trait in a human. Oh, no it’s not.

Pfft.

A fellow blogger has inspired me to focus even the tiniest bit on what I am grateful for in spite of how effed up life is..
My cats.
My kid.
Warm socks.
Acts of kindness like a donation or stepmom paying to make sure our car is serviced and safe for the winter.
Oh, and this dude from youtube who I have been promoting all over the place cos he’s talented and funny and even made a Die Antwood song not suck by metaling it the fuck up. Check out Leo.

And FYI, I’d totally dress up like Jigglypuff and rock out with Pikachu. Just sayin’.

Back to my safe fictional place. Even the serial killer has a heart for his stepkids and his own child all the while hacking people to pieces. That shouldn’t impress me as much as it does but…I guess I’m a sucker for people who don’t ditch out on their kids.

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