Carnival Of Terror

Well, tonight is the carnival I promised I’d take my kid to. I did not sleep well. I kept waking up from bad dreams, in a panic, counting down the hours, knowing once daylight dawned…the next time I can sleep will be after tonight’s ‘festivities’. I am terrified. Of the crowds, of the traffic, of what if the rides come apart and kill us, or what if motion sickness causes me to barf or anxiety causes me to barf…I know the what ifs are stupid, but they are still there, shouting at me through a megaphone, paralyzing me with fear and dread. I thought I’d wake up with a strong resolve and not make it about me and my neuroses, I am doing this for my child…But then I get to thinking, wow, if the disability people hear I managed to go to one carnival in 25 years, they will declare me all cured and it’s not like the psych nurse will side with me…To me, it’s all a chain of events that could lead nowhere good. I need to just focus on making it a good time for my daughter and a survival exercise for myself. I mean, two years ago, I couldn’t eat in public in crowded restaurants. Now I can at least brave half crowded ones on occasion. Maybe if I just expose myself to terror inducing situations…

Yeah, they stick their immersion therapy where the sun don’t shine. This stress stomach ache I have complete with nausea and woozy head is nothing anyone would willingly expose themselves to. Never will it cease to amaze me that we are encouraged to avoid foods that upst our tummies, yet if it’s an anxiety inducing event, well, suck it up even if you’re physically ill and in agony. What the actual fuck, society?

I have picked a battle with one of the camp counselors who has done nothing but rag on my kid all summer over her clothes being raggedy or not fitting right. When Spook said ‘she made me feel like trash1’ and burst into tears, well, I opened my ‘legit legal’ email and fired off one to the captain of the orgnization. The reply was terse and about talking to the counselors so all the kids receive love and acceptance. No mention of apology that their counselor made my kid cry and feel so bad. Not that I expected much, the counselor’s hell daughters have been bullying Spook all summer and nothing is ever done about that because ‘it’s her word against both of them and their mother’. What a collusive bunch of crap. I thought since it was a religious organization they would accepting and kind and spare the judgment and play fair because, well, in spite of my ranty misanthropy, I do tend to believe in the good of others. Once again, I am proven wrong. Yay. It’s a much easier fall to just believe the worst so when they prove you right, you tumble an inch or two. When you give them the benefit of the doubt, you have feet and feet to fall and land unceremoniously on your butt and pride. But what was the alternative? 3 more weeks of this woman singling my kid out over HER FUCKING WARDROBE? That so called counselor should have brought the issues she had to me and me alone, not to a 9 year old child. And Spook called her a fashionista and it was proven to me when my overly critical mother saw the cut off shorts Spook was wearing yesterday and said, “What’s wrong with what’s she wearing, she looks fine.” If my mother the pit viper isn’t bitching, then someone’s snotty standards are too high. I am biting back a super bitchy response about this woman’s name being a brand of banana so obviously she’s fruity…Oh, fail, I didn’t bite it back. My bad. Make my kid feel like trash and cry and the claws come out, bitch.

I’ve already had another discouraging fail today and it’s only 10:30. And it’s an annoyance, nothing life altering, but I thought I’d paint my nails for the first time in weeks…Well, the shit I used was all sheer so I painted two coats, then a glitter top coat, and it was gloppy and even after 20 minutes it smeared off half my nails. It just gets to the point of why bother trying to look or feel good about myself when I just fuck everything up?

I still need to work on the bath and hair wash thing. It would not do to go to a carnival looking too skanky, lest I see an enemy or frenemy and give them the satisfaction of putting me down for my skank level. The saddest part is, were it just me, I’d give zero fucks. But because my kid is experiencing bias on her own wardrobe, I now feel obligated to at least feign cleanliness so they can’t judge her on my behalf, too. Not that people will ever not judge even if I looked like a million bucks. There will always be some little inane thing they will relish criticizing. But being unbathed isn’t gonna be one of them even if I have to hand the water hose to my kid and tell her to spray me down while I hold a soapy loofa. And you can smirk or laugh but there are days it truly feels like that’s the only way this whole bathing thing is gonna happen. Of all the places we had to get, it had to be one with no bloody shower. I hate baths, hate hate hate them.

So wish me luck, I am gonna need it. I will try to get a couple of pics of Spook having fun and me looking like a deer in the headlights but smiling fakely. It could be worse. We could have to go with my dad’s crew, they’re seeing the rodeo tonight. I can’t stand watching them rope small animals and then there’s the clowns and….NO. I’ll take the rickety rides of doom and the threat of stampeding crowds, thank you.

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One Response to “Carnival Of Terror”

  1. Some of the very worst people I’ve ever known are lay church leaders lording their supposed holiness over others. Needless to say, I am not religious. Wonder, oh, wonder, why! Admittedly, some really great people who are beacons of light have also been religious. My general rule is whether a person believes or not won’t much change my opinion of them, but my liking of them tends to be inversely proportional to how often they want to make it *known* to me what a good whatever-they-are they are. Sorry Spook is dealing with that type. 😦

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