Hairbrush

Obviously I am running out of attention grabbing titles after 8 years of this blog. So I just pulled out the most challenging thing I’ve faced thus far this morning: Brushing my hair. I have thick hair that tangles easily and honestly, it can be a painful chore. Sounds ridiculous but I do try to brush it every day. There was a time, prior to Spook’s birth, when I was between doctors, unmedicated, and I’d go weeks without brushing my hair then have to go to have my mom and sister help brush it out because it was such a mess. I say this with no pride, mind you, it’s just what happened in the past. Bad as things are now, as heavy as that hairbrush felt, as hard as it was to pick it up and cringe my way through all the tangles coming out…I managed it. Does not detract from the fact I went 7 days without a bath, though, that is indicative of how bad the depression is even ‘fully medicated’ by the NP’s standards.

I did bathe yesterday, though. I did a lot of piddly work around the house and got overheated, sweaty, and just felt gross so I FORCED myself to do it. Which when it’s cold amd the heat ain’t working, it is unpleasant AF.

Yesterday was super productive, not that on the grand scale of things I even made a dent toward making the place clean and tidy enough to appease others. But I was able to whittle away somewhat and I felt pretty good about it afterward. Then in spite of a good night’s sleep and little spawn drama, I woke today and whatever ‘got into’ me yesterday and got me moving…it ain’t there today. I feel overwhelmed, sluggish, low, paranoid, cold, my stomach’s wonky…Oh, and to top it all off, the internet went down again yesterday at 5 p.m. and just now came back up at 11 a.m. I FUCKING HATE FRONTIER COMMUNICATIONS INTERNET SERVICE, IT IS GARBAGE!!!!!

I finished watching season 2 of Absentia finally. I quite like the show. Thn again, I like anything that gets me out of my own head for awhile and shows me people with worse problems.

Of course, it also leads to me feeling so utterly useless, purposeless, and…not even alive. This mundane bullshit of midwest existence and normality, while probably better for my anxiety, really deprives me intellectually. Gotta drive two hours just to take my kid to a fucking museum or water park, ffs. Forget concerts. Forget…well, options. And yeah, it’s so simple to say, if you don’t like it, move. When I win the lottery that I can’t afford to play, I will def spend that money to relocate. I know I need out of cold weather but I am currently having some sort of mental love affair with the scenery of Maine. That seems like a good place. Bangor. (Thank you, Stephen King.) Water as scenery as opposed to corn stalks and tractors. I don’t much care for seafood or the smell of dead fish that some oceans have but…It’s a nice fantasy, to think of going somewhere smallish but still able to access more metropolitan places without so much hassle.

My mind is really off track today. The day is half over before Spook comes home and literally, brushing my hair is all I have gotten done. Sad. But it’s the ebb and flow of depression and the more I kick myself, the worse the inertia is. By letting go and letting myself just be…sometimes it leads me out of mental nomad zone and I find a path to walk. Until I forget where I was going and come to a grinding halt. The confusion that comes with panic and depression is frustrating. You just never have any clarity and it’s…not a good way to live.

Nor is being disabled and having people remind you constantly what a loser you are. When I did those dishes for dad and stepmom the other day for ‘trash service’, my brother made a remark about, “Least I have a job” and oh, I could have gone off but I said fair enough. He works 15 hours a week. He pays no bills. He has zero responsibilities. But yeah, sure, he has the right to make me feel shitty when I was more mature at 14 than he is at 24.

I must admit that I am feeling pretty low about myself, seeing all these people around me move on. Even stepmonster is going to school. The chronically unemployed potheads are all working now. I know right now my focus has to be on my child and my own mental health, but it does not change the fact that I DESPERATELY WANT TO WORK. I want my self esteem back. But the world out there, for someone with my disorders, it’s just not feasible. So I wonder, what kind of schooling could I get to enable myself to work from home via computer? I was always fairly book smart and got decent grades so it’s not as if I don’t have the intellect to get some sort of degree that would enable me to regain my self esteem, control, independence, and never have to listen to cruel insults from people who just don’t get it…But I don’t know what interests me other than writing or doing net research or music or TV. I’m willing to work hard. But if you don’t have a clue what your mental state will be an hour from now, how do you commit to a career choice, attempt to get that training, and then hope someone takes a chance on you? Because I don’t think I can attend anything but on line classes. I flail in those situations. I need to work within my limitations, not pretend they don’t exist, bully myself through it, then get all crestfallen when every time it fails.

The confusion…not being able to even feed myself…I haven’t had a morsel of food since Monday. I think about feeding myself then I can’t decide what I want or I forget…then I am too tired to bother. For now, I am bathed, hair brushed, my kid is at school, and…some days that’s as good as it gets. And temps will be dropping into the thirties this weekend so it’s only going to get worse as the seasonal depression kicks in. I haven’t even decorated an iota for Halloween. It’s hard to see success when you can’t even manage your happy place because there is so much confusion.

I think I need an episode of Van Helsing. It’s like Z Mation, with vampires instead of zombies, and I am warming to the idea of this apocalyptic future where it’s fight to survive or perish. Ya know, where people are too busy trying to ration out cans of soup for a week of meals to worry that your floor hasn’t seen a vacuum in weeks. Where rich and poor cease to exist because in an apocalypse, all that shit falls to the side and…survival of the fittest. Not sure I’d be the fittest but I’d be a hell of a lot less stressed if my world didn’t revolve around how clean others think my house is. I mean, sure, don’t live with trash piled up, wash dishes and clothes, try to leave clear walk paths but…why are cobwebs and dust bunnies such a bad thing? And why does it bother me so much when the old me gave zero fucks?

Oh, right, the old me didn’t have a kid some well meaning idiot could have taken away because they think dustbunnies make a home unfit. And yeah, there are people that fussy out there. Sometimes, I wish I could hire one of them to come do all this shit for me because my hardest still isn’t good enough and I have such limited mental resources…it would be a huge weight off my shoulders. And I swear that isn’t laziness talking. I really am a disorganized chaotic thinker and it reflects in everything-my writing, my hygiene, my housekeeping ability…I manage to do so much else and keep going…It would be such a heaven send to have help with the one thing I can’t do well and can’t maintain to anyone’s standard.

It is so not normal to watch shows like Z Nation and Van Helsing and The Passage and think…wow, the future is bleak as fuck but at least I wouldn’t have to worry about housekeeping, just keeping a axe sharpened…

It’s escapism. I don’t even own an axe.

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